Jkeown

You write awesome techno-babble. Love it!

Clone Sauce
Clone Sauce is a biomedical soup of active, unprogrammed nano and raw organics. Contact with exposed skin can lead to immune disorders and digestion problems. Improperly stored and unattended clone sauce can result in accidental replicates reproduced from fingerprints.
Clone Sauce: Drain CON 3d6, Attack Versus Alternate Defense (Life Support (Sealed Suit or Not Being Organic); All Or Nothing; +0), Constant (+½), Uncontrolled (+½), Delayed Return Rate (points return at the rate of 5 per Day; +2 ¼) (127 Active Points); OAF (-1), Range Based On Strength (-¼) Real Cost: 56
Feldercarb
Feldercarb builds up on hyperspace and White Radio equipment and must be steam-cleaned or Nano’d away. Contact causes nervous disorders and coordination troubles. The symptoms have been classified under Starbuck’s Syndrome.
Feldercarb: Drain DEX 3d6, Attack Versus Alternate Defense (Life Support (Sealed Suit or Not Being Organic); All Or Nothing; +0), Constant (+½), Uncontrolled (+½), Delayed Return Rate (points return at the rate of 5 per 20 Minutes; +1½) (105 Active Points); OAF (-1), Range Based On Strength (-¼) Real Cost: 47
Reactor Coolant
Reactor Coolant is dangerous stuff. It acts as a corrosive to organic materials. During use, it is exposed to hyperspace itself and can pick up dangerous emotional vectors such as anger, resentment, and that mood you get in when you’ve gotten home and sat down and opened the bag to discover two of your chicken planks have gone missing. That Long John Silver’s on Emerson and Churchman sucks.
Reactor Coolant: RKA 1d6, Attack Versus Alternate Defense (Life Support (Sealed Suit or Not Being Organic; All Or Nothing; +0), Does BODY (+1) (30 Active Points) Real Cost: 30
Reactor Juice
Reactor Juice is the term for coolant that has gone through the reactor but has not been clarified. It is a mixture of toxic chems, radioactive nuclei and feldercarb.
Reactor Juice: Drain STR, CON, END, STUN, and BODY 3d6, Attack Versus Alternate Defense (Life Support (Safe Environment: High Radiation); +½), Expanded Effect (x5 Characteristics or Powers simultaneously) (+2), Delayed Return Rate (points return at the rate of 5 per Day; +2¼) (172 Active Points) Real Cost: 172
Cold Sleep Unit
They still call them Cold Sleep Units even after all this time. Why do they do that? It's like when you call Square.Soda "Coke" it’s not Coke...it's Square.Soda. Anyway... this thing can be set for 2 minutes to 200 years. It requires a Medical Systems Operation roll to bring a person out of it.
Nano-Sleep Unit: Life Support (Eating: Character does not eat; Longevity: 200 Years; Safe in High Pressure; Safe in High Radiation; Safe in Intense Cold; Safe in Intense Heat; Safe in Low Pressure/Vacuum; Self-Contained Breathing) (23 Active Points); OAF Immobile (-2), Side Effects (Side Effect always occurs whenever the Operator fails a Medical SysOps Roll; Amnesia, Physical Defects, Function Loss; -¾), Requires A Roll (System Operations (Medical) roll; -½)
Telekinophilic Material
It was discovered that certain materials (notably kinetium, flarbulax and jub-jub feathers) were easier to lift with telekinesis. They were “lighter” to a Teek than they were to a person lifting them physically. It is conjectured that such materials have teleron reception cavities intrinsic to their substance.
Telekinophilic: Telekinesis (5 STR) (9 Active Points); OAF (-1), Usable By Other (Only To Aid Lifting/Moving Object; -¼), Grantor can only grant the power to others)
Telepathophilic Material
Similarly, some materials allow for a deeper connection to a psion’s limbic system. When machines are fabricated from one-oid doped aluminum or buellerium, or even just smeared with emo-grease telepathy works better.
Androids and flight systems have benefited from this. In the case of androids, psi-therapists are better able to penetrate the cingulate-gyroid and get at what’s troubling the unit. It is not suspected that this will ever go horribly wrong.
Telepathophilic: Telepathy 3d6 (Machine class of minds) (15 Active Points); OAF (-1), Usable By Other (Only To Aid Reading Object; -¼), Grantor can only grant the power to others
Teleportophobic
Within the past 50 standard years or so, chemical compounds have been uncovered (literally in the case of hyper-active carbonoid matrices. Somebody left it under a mattress) that interact oddly with psionic powers. A particularly useful class of these substances is Teleportophobic matter. Armor, weapons, and containers made with materials like pragmatium, expedium, and logic dust are quite anchored to reality itself, and don’t put up with being zipped across space-time.
Teleportophobic: Change Environment (-10 to Teleport Power Roll) (30 Active Points); OAF (-1)
Psi-Active Neurotransmitters
Imagine removing your brain. Then, get a bucket (or get someone else to do it because, you got no brain). Fill that bucket with free-floating cellular response couplers. Pour in a vial of G-positive Telerons and stir. That’s what this is like. Now put your brain back in.
Psi-Active Neurotransmitters: Aid Psi MP + 1 Slot 4d6, Expanded Effect (MP +1 Slot simultaneously) (+½) (36 Active Points); 1 Charge which Never Recovers (-4), OAF (-1), One Use At A Time (-1), Side Effects, Side Effect occurs automatically whenever Power is used (Addiction Roll; -½), Extra Time (Delayed Phase, Only to Activate, -¼)
Emotional Hologram (Emogram)
Tapping the Astral Plane has been a popular pastime for about 12 minutes now. Almost immediately, cloud banks of emotion, reefs of feels and leftover left inferior parietal lobule recepto-tron connections suspended in moonbeams were experienced.
This very rapidly (like seven minutes ago) led to the development of the Emogram. Captured and distilled emotional expressions and memories are released into the local atmosphere and “breathed in” by the amygdaloid nuclear complex, leading to a release of factoids from the hypothalamus. These factoids then suffuse through the brain resulting in cascade of emotional responses.
That is, it makes you feel stuff.
Emotional Hologram: Mental Illusions 10d6 (Human class of minds), Area Of Effect (1m Radius; +¼), Constant (+½), Transdimensional (Single Dimension; +½), Reduced Endurance (0 END; +½) (137 Active Points); OAF (-1), Set Effect (Choose One) (-1), No Range (-½), Damage Shield (-¼), Limited By Senses Mental Group (-¼)

Optional Starship Gear
You don't have to take this stuff for your ship, but if you do, you get to say "zeroid" a lot. 
Aphasic Spatial Zeroid Interface
By injecting zero-like virtual particles into a negative thermal energy array, power can be drawn from space itself as the virtual particles pop in and out of existence. We think.
Aphasic Spatial Zeroid Interface: Endurance Reserve (10 END, 10 REC) Reserve: (11 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1) Real Cost: 9
Chronotronic Static Field Generator
This fine example of Union technobabble disperses Chronotronic Static into the volume occupied by your ship, and some distance away. While powered up (which happens after a Chrono-Psi attack, or sometimes before, which sometimes is also during) the perceived flow of time is greatly inhibited. Things seem to happen at random and stuff is remembered in the wrong order.
Chronotronic Static Field Generator: (Total: 224 Active Cost, 80 Real Cost) Drain Chrono-Psi 5d6, Area Of Effect (2m Radius; +¼), Constant (+½), MegaScale (1m = 1 km; +1) (137 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1), Side Effects, Side Effect occurs automatically whenever Power is used (No Sense of Time Passage; -½) (Real Cost: 55) plus Barrier 30 Mental Defense, 0 BODY (up to 2m long, 2m tall, and½m thick), MegaScale (1m = 1 km; +1), Cannot alter scale (-¼) (87 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1), Only Works Against Chrono-Psi (-1), Side Effects, Side Effect occurs automatically whenever Power is used (No Sense of Time Passage; -½) (Real Cost: 25) Real Cost: 80
Condensed Hyperspatial Vectors
By storing tired hyperspatial vectors in a solution of liquid math and non-zeroid Bayesian sorting schemes, you can preserve motion in hyperspatial domains.
When injected into the drive, the solution suffuses into the hyperspatial stress bubble, making navigation easier.
Condensed Hyperspatial Vectors: +2 with Navigation (4 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1) Real Cost: 2
High-Energy Lasing Cycler
By-passing the usual Intervention-imposed safety interlocks on your laser turrets voids the warranty, but some zervoids do it anyway.
High-Energy Lasing Cycler: Rapid Attack (10 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1) Real Cost: 5
Hyperspatial Oscillation Clamper
The strange contracting realm of hyperspace provides Psions with power to enact the weird changes they force on the material realm. You can lessen the effect of these bastards with a Hyperspatial Oscillation Clamper, which reduces the active frequencies of incoming telerons. Cool, huh?
Hyperspatial Oscillation Clamper: Damage Negation (-4 DCs Mental) (20 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1), Requires A Roll (Systems Operation roll; Psychotronics; -½) Real Cost: 8
Mechnoid Guide Couplings
Semi-sentient Mechnoids live inside your drive, landing gear and other clanky bits of your ship, and assist with repairs via instructions transmitted by interface devices. They look like sand, oddly enough.
Mechnoid Guide Couplings: +1 with Mechanics (2 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1) Real Cost: 1
Multisynaptic Epsilon Cluster
Injecting a healthy dose of charged quarzon particles into a functioning sophont brain increases mental fortitude and imparts a love of romance novels. The effect is refreshingly brief. Many ships carry a stack of recovered Harlequin Romance novels and some of the newer books published by Nudar the Indecent.
Multisynaptic Epsilon Cluster: Aid EGO 3d6 (18 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1) Real Cost: 9
Nano-Metal Hull
A Nano-Metal Hull contains, not surprisingly, trillions of dormant Nanobots held in “aware-stasis mode.” When something happens to break the network, such as a pulson beam ripping the ship a new one, the bots go to work sealing the breach. This can take time, but is great for small repairs. Nothing ever goes wrong. Ever.
Nano-Metal Hull: Regeneration (3 BODY per 6 Hours) (18 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1) Real Cost: 9
Paraphased Psion Inhibitor
Negative telerons (which smell wonderful, incidentally.) can be emitted by a Paraphased Psion Inhibitor. This really interferes with psionic techniques. Many high-end Union ships are equipped with multiples of these situated around the ship, if only to provide the comfy bacon smell.
Paraphased Psion Inhibitor: Dispel Psionics 10d6, Area Of Effect (2m Radius; +¼), Expanded Effect (Psionic Powers) (+1½) (82 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1), Requires A Roll (Systems Operation roll; Psychotronics; -½) Real Cost: 33
Positive Teleron Projection Array
Positive telerons have an indistinct smell to non-psionics. Some describe it as “friggin' annoying.” To Psions, the nerve interactions are more defined and easily incorporated into telepathic intrusion matrices. Or something like that.
Positive Teleron Projection Array: +2 with Telepathy (6 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1) Real Cost: 3
Psi-Echo Trace Isolator
You can totally trap bothersome psi-echoes in this projected Trace Isolator. Damned things can keep you awake at night with their howling and loud creepy music.
Psi-Echo Trace Isolator: Barrier 1 PD/1 ED/15 Mental Defense/10 Flash Defense: Mental Group, 6 BODY (up to 6m long, 2m tall, and½m thick), Opaque Mental Group (77 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1) Real Cost: 38
Ship's Cat
The Ship’s Cat (which needn’t actually be a cat, could be a hoosh, or one of those pingars I’ve read about) chases down and kills all those annoying pesky critters that show up on your ship during small cargo runs. This prevents bites and the spread of weird space diseases.
Ship's Cat: Life Support (Immunity: Zootoxins and Disease) Real Cost: 10
Wide-Band Psychotronic Wave Guide
Wave guides act to constrain telerons, concentrating them into little easy to mentate packets, or quanta. This allows your psyker to ‘see’ better.
Wide-Band Psychotronic Wave Guide: +3 PER with Mental Group (6 Active Points); OIF Bulky (-1) Real Cost: 3

The Zara Template
Humans are still terribly fond of cosmetic changes to their offspring. Billions of teenagers now resemble Zara Temple from the catastrophically popular Hyperspace Phantasm enneaology of action-casts from 2580-2589. She starred in Hyperspace Phantasm, Hyperspace Phantasm II: Goldberg’s Revenge, Hyperspace Phantasm III: Stellar Catastrophe, Hyperspace Phantasm IV: Black Hole Sun, Hyperspace Phantasm V: Frozen Stars, Hyperspace Phantasm VI: Iridium Crisis, Hyperspace Phantasm VII: The Return of Goldberg, Hyperspace Phantasm VIII: Again with Goldberg, and Hyperspace Phantasm IX: The Zara Protocol. She has become the highest paid actress in Human history. 
 
Many of these children (not all are girls) are named Zara as well. Rebelling against this, many of them drastically alter their appearance, take up “street-names” or otherwise try very hard to distance themselves from the image of Zara. Zara Temple herself has publicly decried the practice of copying her, to little effect. More Zaras are crafted and born every year. Estimates range from 2 to 5 billion Zaras extant in the Union, the Cooperative, and the Unclaimed Reaches. You can even buy cheap over-the-counter gene-mods and back-alley chromosome cocktails if you can't afford the good stuff. (Warning: Take Only As Directed)
 
Last time I encountered one of these copies, she was at a place called the Three Sheets on Argos (that dump near Hykene). Looked pretty confused, kept dodging around and checking corners before slipping around them. I tried to make small talk as she attempted to climb into a ventilation duct. As it happens, it wasn't a Zara Template at all, but some guy's leaky, wrist-mounted Holo-Tainment (tm) system. The character had escaped into the ambient info-space of the bar and was trying to stalk and kill Goldberg and his psychotic psionic sidekick, Happi Thoughtsponge.
 
Didn't end well; nothing involving uncontrolled, self-aware holograms ever does.    
 
Points    Ability
6              +2/+2d6 Striking Appearance (vs. All Characters)
Value       Complication
10             Distinctive Features: Zara Template (Conc, Noticed and Recognizable; Detectable By Commonly-Used Senses
 

Kadu
Kadu resemble nothing so much as a nautilus with a plasma cannon protruding from its tentacles. They are huge creatures, the size of a medium starship.
The first thing you notice about a Kadu (right after you finish screaming and changing your pants) is the great spiraling shell of the beast, decorated with flowing bio-luminescent whorls and stripes. The tentacles are next, followed by that gun.
What a monster that gun is, powerful enough to shred starship armor, it sticks out almost obscenely from the tangle of tentacles. It also glows brightly across the spectrum, mostly in the infrared.
It has been suggested that Kadu could not have evolved naturally. This is plainly obvious. Self-replicating polymers like Kadu DNA would be torn down by ultraviolet radiation before they could develop cell walls and cytoplasm.  The scarcity of food in a vacuum also presents a problem evolution would have to overcome.
It is therefore correct to conclude that they were provolved in the deep past by some alien super-race such as the eons-old Forerunners, long-dead Rhal Shee Dha, or the Benefactors of the last few thousand years. If this is indeed the case, it tells us at least one thing about the ancients. They were dicks.
Related functionally to the Archangels, Auto-Wars, Bio-Destruct-os and Vacc-Blasters; Kadu are uplifted sea creatures certainly designed for war in space. That they have outlasted their creators is a testament to the wisdom of such technology.
Kadu are quite the sight, flying in formation against the black star-studded void of deep space. They can be seen chasing swarms of rock munchers, snacking on planetary rings or derelict starships. They are also quite the sight when dining on a not-so-derelict ship (or mine, specifically).
They are sensitive to infrared wavelengths, known for its ability to penetrate dust clouds. Star Whales are often found in molecular clouds and ring systems, and are best detected in the IR.    
Attempts to breed such beasts in captivity have been universal failures. Such efforts have resulted in fourteen destroyed orbital habitats, nine ring-stations and seven major lawsuits. Two of which are still affecting my credit score and dating fitness on Malabar/Hlevakha.
Of all the evolutionary drivers, provolve technology is the most difficult, sexual selection is perhaps the most complex, with financial selection being the most depressing.
There are rumors whispered quietly in seedy star town bars, and screamed aloud in seedy star town asylums, of "Old Galactic Kadu" the size of Union dreadnoughts.
Don't go outside, is what I'm saying.   
Kadu.hdc

Goo Girls

The Goo Girls of Regula Slimefax are an amorphous lifeform with a semi-solid rest state. That is to say, they look like transparent, candy-colored female Humans but are in fact able to move through cracks, grates, and enter any place not fully sealed off from the outside. This makes them excellent infiltrators. Any equipment they might carry is left behind when they discorporate. It’s also kind gooey afterward. Loot if you want, but carry wipes.

It is interesting to note that Goo Girls all resemble Chlamydia Smithereens, a Tribal Seeker After Knowledge lost in the Regula Volumes some hundred or so years ago. Many Goo Girls wander away from home to slop around the galaxy, looking at stuff. 
I ran into a Goo Girl on Ophiuchus/Pridax Minor. It was my routine to run around the starport there (little more than a bare patch of rock with a "radio shack" and a gift shop/fuel/life support store) for a bit of exercise each morning. Turning a corner, I passed through a Goo Girl and carried her a few dozen feet. In truth, I was running away. When I finally stopped she was flung off and splattered across the "landing pad" with a sound like an amorphous female shot through the air and landing on bare rock.
 
We traveled together for a time, she and I. You could say she was quite attached to me. 
 
[Jeffery's Note: DO NOT GOOGLE "GOO GIRL." I DID IT TO SEE IF THERE WAS A PRECEDENT FOR THIS IDEA AND I REGRET IT DEEPLY]
Goo Girl.hdc

Artificial Indignation
The vile machine intelligence known as Artificial Indignation is an electronic Hate-o-Mat. It is comprised of acrimonious subroutines, annoyance circuits, antagonistic code, inimical data, stacks of fury, thermionic ire, and anodic rage against all life save one small cat ai has named “Hostility.”
In a web-cast interview, ai explained that cats are indifferent, not only to ai, but to all life. Ai digs that. Ai then had resentment-pumped plasma guns reduce the reporter to a cloud of free atomic oxygen, drifting carbon, and a handful of other elements ai was too busy to analyze.
No one knows who built it or why.
In desperate need of fuel, air and my own continued existence, I happened upon AI's fortress constructed in orbit around the cryosubjovian Antipathy. Its deep blue color was little comfort, knowing the crushing atmosphere maintained a balmy -317 degrees Fahrenheit. I burnt the last of my fuel to glide closer, hoping to arrest my fall with the hyper-shuttle's RCS.  If I'd known that this spiky, force-shielded, dread-inducing hate-sphere was the home of the most spiteful machine in all existence, I might have passed it by and taken my chances with the planet's crushing shroud of molecular hydrogen, helium, methane, and abject inconvenience.
As it was, I managed to dock the ship using a Very Puffy Travel Tube(tm) and a vacc-impeller I "found" back on Shaphulax Icks. 
Once inside, I was treated to a temple of embodied malice. Monitors on every surface displayed what I hoped were CGI of exploding stars, ruined planets and bones. So many bones. 
The planet below started to look pretty good. 
What I had mistaken for art objects transformed from giant middle fingers to giant plasma cannons while a disembodied voice asked the purpose of my visit. 
"Life support refresh, fuel and a trauma-free departure." I answered. 
"WHO ARE YOU TO DISTURB MY SLUMBER?" it bellowed. 
"Pleet, Pleet Roodlepleen. I am a seeker after knowledge, a scientist, a researcher... I want to know things, spread understanding throughout the universe and profit mightily from it." 
"TELL ME OF YOUR RESEARCH, SCRIBE. SPARE NO DETAIL, OR I SHALL BECOME QUITE CROSS!" The terrifying bass voice beat in my chest, simulating arrhythmia more than a little accurately.
I told him of my triumphs, conquests and failures of science. I told him that not one of these allowed me to rest, that I forge on through the murky darkness, dispelling the demons of the night while others cowered around their comforting campfires, fearful of discovery. I told him of those lost in my service, of the wrecked outstations, blasted planets, and inter-dimensional catastrophes I'd initiated. I explained that rather than drown in sorrow, rather than admit defeat, I stumbled along in my quest, failures and law suits meaning nothing along the way. I would, I told him, stop at nothing for science.
He seemed to mull it about for a moment. 
"KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK."
I got quite the deal on the fuel and breathing gases and several free-to-a-good-home kittens. 
Artificial Indignation.hdc

Artificial Indignation
The vile machine intelligence known as Artificial Indignation is an electronic Hate-o-Mat. It is comprised of acrimonious subroutines, annoyance circuits, antagonistic code, inimical data, stacks of fury, thermionic ire, and anodic rage against all life save one small cat ai has named “Hostility.”
In a web-cast interview, ai explained that cats are indifferent, not only to ai, but to all life. Ai digs that. Ai then had resentment-pumped plasma guns reduce the reporter to a cloud of free atomic oxygen, drifting carbon, and a handful of other elements ai was too busy to analyze.
No one knows who built it or why.
In desperate need of fuel, air and my own continued existence, I happened upon AI's fortress constructed in orbit around the cryosubjovian Antipathy. Its deep blue color was little comfort, knowing the crushing atmosphere maintained a balmy -317 degrees Fahrenheit. I burnt the last of my fuel to glide closer, hoping to arrest my fall with the hyper-shuttle's RCS.  If I'd known that this spiky, force-shielded, dread-inducing hate-sphere was the home of the most spiteful machine in all existence, I might have passed it by and taken my chances with the planet's crushing shroud of molecular hydrogen, helium, methane, and abject inconvenience.
As it was, I managed to dock the ship using a Very Puffy Travel Tube(tm) and a vacc-impeller I "found" back on Shaphulax Icks. 
Once inside, I was treated to a temple of embodied malice. Monitors on every surface displayed what I hoped were CGI of exploding stars, ruined planets and bones. So many bones. 
The planet below started to look pretty good. 
What I had mistaken for art objects transformed from giant middle fingers to giant plasma cannons while a disembodied voice asked the purpose of my visit. 
"Life support refresh, fuel and a trauma-free departure." I answered. 
"WHO ARE YOU TO DISTURB MY SLUMBER?" it bellowed. 
"Pleet, Pleet Roodlepleen. I am a seeker after knowledge, a scientist, a researcher... I want to know things, spread understanding throughout the universe and profit mightily from it." 
"TELL ME OF YOUR RESEARCH, SCRIBE. SPARE NO DETAIL, OR I SHALL BECOME QUITE CROSS!" The terrifying bass voice beat in my chest, simulating arrhythmia more than a little accurately.
I told him of my triumphs, conquests and failures of science. I told him that not one of these allowed me to rest, that I forge on through the murky darkness, dispelling the demons of the night while others cowered around their comforting campfires, fearful of discovery. I told him of those lost in my service, of the wrecked outstations, blasted planets, and inter-dimensional catastrophes I'd initiated. I explained that rather than drown in sorrow, rather than admit defeat, I stumbled along in my quest, failures and law suits meaning nothing along the way. I would, I told him, stop at nothing for science.
He seemed to mull it about for a moment. 
"KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK."
I got quite the deal on the fuel and breathing gases and several free-to-a-good-home kittens. 
Artificial Indignation.hdc

Kadu
Kadu resemble nothing so much as a nautilus with a plasma cannon protruding from its tentacles. They are huge creatures, the size of a medium starship.
The first thing you notice about a Kadu (right after you finish screaming and changing your pants) is the great spiraling shell of the beast, decorated with flowing bio-luminescent whorls and stripes. The tentacles are next, followed by that gun.
What a monster that gun is, powerful enough to shred starship armor, it sticks out almost obscenely from the tangle of tentacles. It also glows brightly across the spectrum, mostly in the infrared.
It has been suggested that Kadu could not have evolved naturally. This is plainly obvious. Self-replicating polymers like Kadu DNA would be torn down by ultraviolet radiation before they could develop cell walls and cytoplasm.  The scarcity of food in a vacuum also presents a problem evolution would have to overcome.
It is therefore correct to conclude that they were provolved in the deep past by some alien super-race such as the eons-old Forerunners, long-dead Rhal Shee Dha, or the Benefactors of the last few thousand years. If this is indeed the case, it tells us at least one thing about the ancients. They were dicks.
Related functionally to the Archangels, Auto-Wars, Bio-Destruct-os and Vacc-Blasters; Kadu are uplifted sea creatures certainly designed for war in space. That they have outlasted their creators is a testament to the wisdom of such technology.
Kadu are quite the sight, flying in formation against the black star-studded void of deep space. They can be seen chasing swarms of rock munchers, snacking on planetary rings or derelict starships. They are also quite the sight when dining on a not-so-derelict ship (or mine, specifically).
They are sensitive to infrared wavelengths, known for its ability to penetrate dust clouds. Star Whales are often found in molecular clouds and ring systems, and are best detected in the IR.    
Attempts to breed such beasts in captivity have been universal failures. Such efforts have resulted in fourteen destroyed orbital habitats, nine ring-stations and seven major lawsuits. Two of which are still affecting my credit score and dating fitness on Malabar/Hlevakha.
Of all the evolutionary drivers, provolve technology is the most difficult, sexual selection is perhaps the most complex, with financial selection being the most depressing.
There are rumors whispered quietly in seedy star town bars, and screamed aloud in seedy star town asylums, of "Old Galactic Kadu" the size of Union dreadnoughts.
Don't go outside, is what I'm saying.   
Kadu.hdc

Goo Girls

The Goo Girls of Regula Slimefax are an amorphous lifeform with a semi-solid rest state. That is to say, they look like transparent, candy-colored female Humans but are in fact able to move through cracks, grates, and enter any place not fully sealed off from the outside. This makes them excellent infiltrators. Any equipment they might carry is left behind when they discorporate. It’s also kind gooey afterward. Loot if you want, but carry wipes.

It is interesting to note that Goo Girls all resemble Chlamydia Smithereens, a Tribal Seeker After Knowledge lost in the Regula Volumes some hundred or so years ago. Many Goo Girls wander away from home to slop around the galaxy, looking at stuff. 
I ran into a Goo Girl on Ophiuchus/Pridax Minor. It was my routine to run around the starport there (little more than a bare patch of rock with a "radio shack" and a gift shop/fuel/life support store) for a bit of exercise each morning. Turning a corner, I passed through a Goo Girl and carried her a few dozen feet. In truth, I was running away. When I finally stopped she was flung off and splattered across the "landing pad" with a sound like an amorphous female shot through the air and landing on bare rock.
 
We traveled together for a time, she and I. You could say she was quite attached to me. 
 
[Jeffery's Note: DO NOT GOOGLE "GOO GIRL." I DID IT TO SEE IF THERE WAS A PRECEDENT FOR THIS IDEA AND I REGRET IT DEEPLY]
Goo Girl.hdc

Kadu
Kadu resemble nothing so much as a nautilus with a plasma cannon protruding from its tentacles. They are huge creatures, the size of a medium starship.
The first thing you notice about a Kadu (right after you finish screaming and changing your pants) is the great spiraling shell of the beast, decorated with flowing bio-luminescent whorls and stripes. The tentacles are next, followed by that gun.
What a monster that gun is, powerful enough to shred starship armor, it sticks out almost obscenely from the tangle of tentacles. It also glows brightly across the spectrum, mostly in the infrared.
It has been suggested that Kadu could not have evolved naturally. This is plainly obvious. Self-replicating polymers like Kadu DNA would be torn down by ultraviolet radiation before they could develop cell walls and cytoplasm.  The scarcity of food in a vacuum also presents a problem evolution would have to overcome.
It is therefore correct to conclude that they were provolved in the deep past by some alien super-race such as the eons-old Forerunners, long-dead Rhal Shee Dha, or the Benefactors of the last few thousand years. If this is indeed the case, it tells us at least one thing about the ancients. They were dicks.
Related functionally to the Archangels, Auto-Wars, Bio-Destruct-os and Vacc-Blasters; Kadu are uplifted sea creatures certainly designed for war in space. That they have outlasted their creators is a testament to the wisdom of such technology.
Kadu are quite the sight, flying in formation against the black star-studded void of deep space. They can be seen chasing swarms of rock munchers, snacking on planetary rings or derelict starships. They are also quite the sight when dining on a not-so-derelict ship (or mine, specifically).
They are sensitive to infrared wavelengths, known for its ability to penetrate dust clouds. Star Whales are often found in molecular clouds and ring systems, and are best detected in the IR.    
Attempts to breed such beasts in captivity have been universal failures. Such efforts have resulted in fourteen destroyed orbital habitats, nine ring-stations and seven major lawsuits. Two of which are still affecting my credit score and dating fitness on Malabar/Hlevakha.
Of all the evolutionary drivers, provolve technology is the most difficult, sexual selection is perhaps the most complex, with financial selection being the most depressing.
There are rumors whispered quietly in seedy star town bars, and screamed aloud in seedy star town asylums, of "Old Galactic Kadu" the size of Union dreadnoughts.
Don't go outside, is what I'm saying.   
Kadu.hdc

I just wrote this... just for you. 
 
Vaguerons

You might have encountered a Vagueron. Most folks do not remember them. In fact, it’s a minor miracle I’m able to talk about them at all.

They follow a strict code referred to as the Uncertainty Principles. Violation of this code results in exile which might or might not bring them into conflict in areas far away from their un-guessable home world (or near… I don’t know).

Many people only realize they’ve been attacked by Vaguerons when they discover wounds, weird alien bodies,  and drained power packs that hint at a very recent conflict.

I may have encountered these weirdos before. I have notes from the event, but my hand writing is smeared with some sort of alcoholic beverage and what appears to be biological process by-products.

A possible method of detection may have recently (or not) been discovered by the Cooperative Operative, Haar Malgot. By tossing two ducks into a Finite Potential Well and fishing one out, you create a sort of Vagueron Alert System.

If a Vagueron lurks nearby both ducks, despite their separation, will sound off.

Essentially, if it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it’s a Vagueron.  

Yes.

I am reminded of Stanislaw Lem's tale of "Altruizine" from The Cyberiad. More directly of Isaac Asimov's "The Endochronic Properties of Resublimated Thiotimoline," but as a fable it reminds me of Lem.
 
Not often that game stuff reminds me of Lem. Well done.
 
Dean Shomshak

I am reminded of Stanislaw Lem's tale of "Altruizine" from The Cyberiad. More directly of Isaac Asimov's "The Endochronic Properties of Resublimated Thiotimoline," but as a fable it reminds me of Lem.
 
Not often that game stuff reminds me of Lem. Well done.
 
Dean Shomshak

Methusaline
Methusaline is a viral treatment designed to kill, with a side effect of Immortality, or an Immortality drug that can kill you. Upon contact, the virus proceeds to re-write your system. This takes quite a toll, Draining 4d6 BODY before a Transform. Should you be in Negative BODY before the Transform hits, you are dead. So sorry.
If, however, you survive, you are now immortal. Yay!
Rumors of an Immortal Swordsman going around and killing Methusalites is pure fantasy. Seriously.
Methusaline: (Total: 115 Active Cost, 18 Real Cost)
     Phase One: Drain BODY 4d6 (40 AP); 1 Charge which Never Recovers (-4), OAF (Viral Injector; -1), Extra Time (1 Minute, Only to Activate, -¾) (Real Cost: 6)
     Phase Two: Major Transform 3d6 (Transform Normal Creature into Immortal Creature, Healing Vs Transform), DOT, Lock out (cannot be applied multiple times) (3 damage increments, damage occurs every three Segments, +1½) (75 AP); 1 Charge which Never Recovers (-4), OAF (Viral Injector; -1) (Real Cost: 12)

Humanity!
 
Humanity has jumped out into the stars like a child at play. And, like a well-meaning but inattentive child, Humanity has scrapes and bruises to show for it.
 
They are not one race, but dozens; Heavyworlders, Lightworlders and Spacers from the early days of interstellar journeying, to the most recent advances in engineering that brought forth Mankind’s newest children, the computer-like Bioroids.
 
Humans are everywhere, and they are doing everything. From the relaxed, casual Earthbound to the pioneers of the Coreward Expanse, Humanity is leading the way. (Well… not the Earthbound, some of those lazy bastards can barely stand up on their own)
They colonize, grow, reach out and colonize again. The area known as Humanspace is expanding faster than light itself. Held in check only by the near-totalitarian Union Executive Council and the technology-minded Intervention, Humanity seems ready to break free of control and run wild across the entire galaxy.
 
The reins are held as tightly as they are to avoid disaster. Humanity can neither spread too thin nor remain too clustered. Either situation leads to destruction at the hands of the Ascendancy, the Aurorans or some other race unknown at present.
 
Humanity is a psionic race. Most humans with power are Telepaths (or Readers). A smaller percentage are Lifters or Jumpers.
 
Terrans
 
Alpha: Homo Superior Parahuman provolve. 30% of humanity is Alpha. Alphas are attractive, healthy and long-lived.
 
Baseline: Typical Human, non-provolved, un-tampered-with, just plain old, down home Homo sapiens. Baselines are rare, but the only plain-looking people. It is possible to have any combination of facial features and body types.
 
Bioroid: A neogen with engineered genes. Typically, with a DNA time bomb in their code, they also lack the ability to synthesize certain important proteins. These two measures insure demand and turnover of Bioroid stock.
 
Omega: Homo Superior Parahuman upgrade: 50% of humanity is Omega. Omegas are beautiful, tall, graceful and disease resistant.
 
Parahuman: Genetically distinct from Baselines, but not so different as to be a new species. (Alpha, Omega, Space Elf, Star Kitten, etc.)
 
Splice: A chimeric life form with loan-genes from Baselines or Alphas, and various animals. These non-Human genes provide modified body structures, altered senses and built-in weaponry.
 
Transhuman: An Upload, a Human AI, or software lifeform.
 
Xenohuman: A Human from another star system. It is thought that the Forerunners seeded the Spur (and even farther) with Human life. This life has evolved on its own into new and different species. Some are still so close to Baseline that they can breed with them. This category erroneously includes Lost Humans from more recent (CE period) migrations and experimental populations. The Pra An are known to have moved Humans around during the Enlightenment, for example.
 
Human Names
 
Human names are as diverse in 2600CE as they ever were, but a few naming trends have become popular in recent years.
 
First Initial – Many parents began using only a first initial for their children about thirty years ago. Within ten years, entire first names vanished, replaced by letters or numbers (or absent altogether). Names like J Wells Brown and 12 Felicia Nordmeyer are now perfectly normal. The custom is to use the initial and the middle name when addressing someone named in this fashion. It is less common in Ophiuchus among the Tribals and Teknos, who cling to bynames left over from the Gamma Age.
 
Vowel Replacement – A naming convention that started in Lupus in 2550 reached Ophiuchus 20 years later. The first vowel is replaced with a dot. Examples include D.vid, M.ke and K.rla. This seems to be viewed by some as “forward” and “modern” and by others as “stupid.”
 
Android Names – Artificial beings usually have their names in caps. DAPHNE, ZINAAT, or IMANI. Very recently, in the last 15 years or so, parents have been cursing their children with this style of name. It can cause some civil service types to reject applications based on the assumption that the applicant is an android, Bioroid or weblife riding a bioshell.
 
Taking all of these, there is probably some child out there with the name 15 S.VANNAH JOHNSON. Poor thing.
 

BALDR

The appearance of the energy being BALDR to the folks of the Zhou Cricket Bar™ Foundry has messed with more than a few heads. By diverting the asteroid Tsu-54, he saved a hundred thousand lives and a million Androids aboard the station. BALDR does not seem to be an AI, mutant or anything Union science has ever encountered. Some have taken to worshipping him as one of the Forerunners, or perhaps something even older. His “coalescent form” as he termed it, was an incredibly hot white-haired Human male about 20 years old. Male-Attracted beings across space now have posters of him on their walls, and holos in their pockets. Images of BALDR are making several folks a great deal of money. White hair is making a comeback as well.

Holo-novels have featured him a great deal, granting him incredible powers and setting him on a path of unrequited love and personality traits the authors have fabricated.  
The entire incident is being investigated as the greatest case of theofraud ever.

The Cloud

(With sincere apologies to Fred Hoyle and Gene L. Coon)

From the 1930s, mankind was aware of complex organic chemistry in deep space. From the discovery of methylidyne in 1937, to the confirmation of fullerenes in the century following, it was made clear that organic chemistry was not confined to planetary surfaces.

What mankind did not know was just how complex such chemistry could be.

In dark nebulae, organic molecules cluster inside carbon fullerenes, shielding them from UV radiation and allowing electrical connectivity between self-replicating molecular structures. It is a short trip from there to animation. From animation to intelligence is a longer journey, but it is one the universe attained at least once. What I’m saying is the Rho Ophiuchi Cloud Complex is alive. Not only is it alive, it is intelligent.

Energized by its proximity to several bright stars and churned by the shock front from the Scorpius-Centaurus Association of O- and B-type stars, intelligence arose in the Cloud Complex millions of years ago and in that time, largely sat and thought about things. After a time, on what to some lifeforms would be a Thursday afternoon in late autumn, it hit upon the idea of shaping ambient carbon in its own mass, creating gigantic diamond mirrors and lenses. It used these to view the universe and extend its understanding of itself.

It discovered tiny worlds, strange stars, other dark clouds and on another Thursday just two hundred years ago, life. A mis-jump brought Raymond Nix and his one-man hyper-pod into the nebula. His drive smashed and his life in grave peril, he faced death alone in the dark. Carbon nano-tubes, like soft fingers, ran over his tiny craft, understanding it to be a small self-contained world. Using spectral analysis, it formed a plan. Quickly spinning up a diamond sphere and filling it with free oxygen and other seemingly important gases, it pried open the pod and allowed Raymond Nix a second chance at life. Floating in a diamond bubble 132.5 parsecs from Earth is the last place Nix expected to be. Terrified yet hopeful, he spoke in his characteristic Lupus/Wauwatosa accent (one that always make the listener think you’re from somewhere near Milwaukee), politely requesting what the hell was happening.

More nanotubes extended from the inside surface of the diamond sphere and infiltrated deep into his body. They probed, queried, sent test signals that gave Raymond hallucinations and alien thoughts. Full communication followed, and understanding blossomed. The Cloud requested that Raymond take some portion of itself with him, to let the Cloud explore the universe.

“Your vacuum adapted form won’t survive in a gravity well.” Raymond explained, “You would collapse without a physical form like mine.”

“Not yours.” It spoke, “hers.”

The Cloud probed again and began copying memories and spinning up bones, organs and a functioning human brain. Within a few hours, a perfect copy of Raymond’s dead wife Riley stood in front of him. All of the Cloud’s millions of years of knowledge and observations flooded into the new being. A spark animated the body and she asked simply, “Can we go now?”

At first Raymond resisted, this form was perfect, at least as perfect as he remembered her. Thus, she was an idealized copy, a clone the Cloud designed to tempt him into acceptance.

“I could go without you. Spin up a pod of my own and venture across space for the next few million years.” It threatened, the implication that he would remain here, without hope of escape, for the hours his air supply would last.   

It hit him that this being, the cloud and its tempting avatar had no companionship, nothing to compare itself to, no instances of having to make rational or moral choices. This thing was a monster. A monster that was about to be inflicted upon the universe. It needs a balance.

“We’ll go together.” He stated flatly. Maybe he could prevent disaster.

So next time you’re at some seedy booze-pit on Remmick, or slumming with the Tribals at Collinz-Port, or even drifting through the cybernetic microcosm of the Quantum Jones Very Large Brain at Mercator University on Planet Clarke, and you see a couple laughing at the next table, and one of them looks very like long-lost Raymond Nix, just walk away.  

Goo Girls

The Goo Girls of Regula Slimefax are an amorphous lifeform with a semi-solid rest state. That is to say, they look like transparent, candy-colored female Humans but are in fact able to move through cracks, grates, and enter any place not fully sealed off from the outside. This makes them excellent infiltrators. Any equipment they might carry is left behind when they discorporate. It’s also kind gooey afterward. Loot if you want, but carry wipes.

It is interesting to note that Goo Girls all resemble Chlamydia Smithereens, a Tribal Seeker After Knowledge lost in the Regula Volumes some hundred or so years ago. Many Goo Girls wander away from home to slop around the galaxy, looking at stuff. 
I ran into a Goo Girl on Ophiuchus/Pridax Minor. It was my routine to run around the starport there (little more than a bare patch of rock with a "radio shack" and a gift shop/fuel/life support store) for a bit of exercise each morning. Turning a corner, I passed through a Goo Girl and carried her a few dozen feet. In truth, I was running away. When I finally stopped she was flung off and splattered across the "landing pad" with a sound like an amorphous female shot through the air and landing on bare rock.
 
We traveled together for a time, she and I. You could say she was quite attached to me. 
 
[Jeffery's Note: DO NOT GOOGLE "GOO GIRL." I DID IT TO SEE IF THERE WAS A PRECEDENT FOR THIS IDEA AND I REGRET IT DEEPLY]
Goo Girl.hdc

The Cloud

(With sincere apologies to Fred Hoyle and Gene L. Coon)

From the 1930s, mankind was aware of complex organic chemistry in deep space. From the discovery of methylidyne in 1937, to the confirmation of fullerenes in the century following, it was made clear that organic chemistry was not confined to planetary surfaces.

What mankind did not know was just how complex such chemistry could be.

In dark nebulae, organic molecules cluster inside carbon fullerenes, shielding them from UV radiation and allowing electrical connectivity between self-replicating molecular structures. It is a short trip from there to animation. From animation to intelligence is a longer journey, but it is one the universe attained at least once. What I’m saying is the Rho Ophiuchi Cloud Complex is alive. Not only is it alive, it is intelligent.

Energized by its proximity to several bright stars and churned by the shock front from the Scorpius-Centaurus Association of O- and B-type stars, intelligence arose in the Cloud Complex millions of years ago and in that time, largely sat and thought about things. After a time, on what to some lifeforms would be a Thursday afternoon in late autumn, it hit upon the idea of shaping ambient carbon in its own mass, creating gigantic diamond mirrors and lenses. It used these to view the universe and extend its understanding of itself.

It discovered tiny worlds, strange stars, other dark clouds and on another Thursday just two hundred years ago, life. A mis-jump brought Raymond Nix and his one-man hyper-pod into the nebula. His drive smashed and his life in grave peril, he faced death alone in the dark. Carbon nano-tubes, like soft fingers, ran over his tiny craft, understanding it to be a small self-contained world. Using spectral analysis, it formed a plan. Quickly spinning up a diamond sphere and filling it with free oxygen and other seemingly important gases, it pried open the pod and allowed Raymond Nix a second chance at life. Floating in a diamond bubble 132.5 parsecs from Earth is the last place Nix expected to be. Terrified yet hopeful, he spoke in his characteristic Lupus/Wauwatosa accent (one that always make the listener think you’re from somewhere near Milwaukee), politely requesting what the hell was happening.

More nanotubes extended from the inside surface of the diamond sphere and infiltrated deep into his body. They probed, queried, sent test signals that gave Raymond hallucinations and alien thoughts. Full communication followed, and understanding blossomed. The Cloud requested that Raymond take some portion of itself with him, to let the Cloud explore the universe.

“Your vacuum adapted form won’t survive in a gravity well.” Raymond explained, “You would collapse without a physical form like mine.”

“Not yours.” It spoke, “hers.”

The Cloud probed again and began copying memories and spinning up bones, organs and a functioning human brain. Within a few hours, a perfect copy of Raymond’s dead wife Riley stood in front of him. All of the Cloud’s millions of years of knowledge and observations flooded into the new being. A spark animated the body and she asked simply, “Can we go now?”

At first Raymond resisted, this form was perfect, at least as perfect as he remembered her. Thus, she was an idealized copy, a clone the Cloud designed to tempt him into acceptance.

“I could go without you. Spin up a pod of my own and venture across space for the next few million years.” It threatened, the implication that he would remain here, without hope of escape, for the hours his air supply would last.   

It hit him that this being, the cloud and its tempting avatar had no companionship, nothing to compare itself to, no instances of having to make rational or moral choices. This thing was a monster. A monster that was about to be inflicted upon the universe. It needs a balance.

“We’ll go together.” He stated flatly. Maybe he could prevent disaster.

So next time you’re at some seedy booze-pit on Remmick, or slumming with the Tribals at Collinz-Port, or even drifting through the cybernetic microcosm of the Quantum Jones Very Large Brain at Mercator University on Planet Clarke, and you see a couple laughing at the next table, and one of them looks very like long-lost Raymond Nix, just walk away.  

The Cloud

(With sincere apologies to Fred Hoyle and Gene L. Coon)

From the 1930s, mankind was aware of complex organic chemistry in deep space. From the discovery of methylidyne in 1937, to the confirmation of fullerenes in the century following, it was made clear that organic chemistry was not confined to planetary surfaces.

What mankind did not know was just how complex such chemistry could be.

In dark nebulae, organic molecules cluster inside carbon fullerenes, shielding them from UV radiation and allowing electrical connectivity between self-replicating molecular structures. It is a short trip from there to animation. From animation to intelligence is a longer journey, but it is one the universe attained at least once. What I’m saying is the Rho Ophiuchi Cloud Complex is alive. Not only is it alive, it is intelligent.

Energized by its proximity to several bright stars and churned by the shock front from the Scorpius-Centaurus Association of O- and B-type stars, intelligence arose in the Cloud Complex millions of years ago and in that time, largely sat and thought about things. After a time, on what to some lifeforms would be a Thursday afternoon in late autumn, it hit upon the idea of shaping ambient carbon in its own mass, creating gigantic diamond mirrors and lenses. It used these to view the universe and extend its understanding of itself.

It discovered tiny worlds, strange stars, other dark clouds and on another Thursday just two hundred years ago, life. A mis-jump brought Raymond Nix and his one-man hyper-pod into the nebula. His drive smashed and his life in grave peril, he faced death alone in the dark. Carbon nano-tubes, like soft fingers, ran over his tiny craft, understanding it to be a small self-contained world. Using spectral analysis, it formed a plan. Quickly spinning up a diamond sphere and filling it with free oxygen and other seemingly important gases, it pried open the pod and allowed Raymond Nix a second chance at life. Floating in a diamond bubble 132.5 parsecs from Earth is the last place Nix expected to be. Terrified yet hopeful, he spoke in his characteristic Lupus/Wauwatosa accent (one that always make the listener think you’re from somewhere near Milwaukee), politely requesting what the hell was happening.

More nanotubes extended from the inside surface of the diamond sphere and infiltrated deep into his body. They probed, queried, sent test signals that gave Raymond hallucinations and alien thoughts. Full communication followed, and understanding blossomed. The Cloud requested that Raymond take some portion of itself with him, to let the Cloud explore the universe.

“Your vacuum adapted form won’t survive in a gravity well.” Raymond explained, “You would collapse without a physical form like mine.”

“Not yours.” It spoke, “hers.”

The Cloud probed again and began copying memories and spinning up bones, organs and a functioning human brain. Within a few hours, a perfect copy of Raymond’s dead wife Riley stood in front of him. All of the Cloud’s millions of years of knowledge and observations flooded into the new being. A spark animated the body and she asked simply, “Can we go now?”

At first Raymond resisted, this form was perfect, at least as perfect as he remembered her. Thus, she was an idealized copy, a clone the Cloud designed to tempt him into acceptance.

“I could go without you. Spin up a pod of my own and venture across space for the next few million years.” It threatened, the implication that he would remain here, without hope of escape, for the hours his air supply would last.   

It hit him that this being, the cloud and its tempting avatar had no companionship, nothing to compare itself to, no instances of having to make rational or moral choices. This thing was a monster. A monster that was about to be inflicted upon the universe. It needs a balance.

“We’ll go together.” He stated flatly. Maybe he could prevent disaster.

So next time you’re at some seedy booze-pit on Remmick, or slumming with the Tribals at Collinz-Port, or even drifting through the cybernetic microcosm of the Quantum Jones Very Large Brain at Mercator University on Planet Clarke, and you see a couple laughing at the next table, and one of them looks very like long-lost Raymond Nix, just walk away.  

The Cloud

(With sincere apologies to Fred Hoyle and Gene L. Coon)

From the 1930s, mankind was aware of complex organic chemistry in deep space. From the discovery of methylidyne in 1937, to the confirmation of fullerenes in the century following, it was made clear that organic chemistry was not confined to planetary surfaces.

What mankind did not know was just how complex such chemistry could be.

In dark nebulae, organic molecules cluster inside carbon fullerenes, shielding them from UV radiation and allowing electrical connectivity between self-replicating molecular structures. It is a short trip from there to animation. From animation to intelligence is a longer journey, but it is one the universe attained at least once. What I’m saying is the Rho Ophiuchi Cloud Complex is alive. Not only is it alive, it is intelligent.

Energized by its proximity to several bright stars and churned by the shock front from the Scorpius-Centaurus Association of O- and B-type stars, intelligence arose in the Cloud Complex millions of years ago and in that time, largely sat and thought about things. After a time, on what to some lifeforms would be a Thursday afternoon in late autumn, it hit upon the idea of shaping ambient carbon in its own mass, creating gigantic diamond mirrors and lenses. It used these to view the universe and extend its understanding of itself.

It discovered tiny worlds, strange stars, other dark clouds and on another Thursday just two hundred years ago, life. A mis-jump brought Raymond Nix and his one-man hyper-pod into the nebula. His drive smashed and his life in grave peril, he faced death alone in the dark. Carbon nano-tubes, like soft fingers, ran over his tiny craft, understanding it to be a small self-contained world. Using spectral analysis, it formed a plan. Quickly spinning up a diamond sphere and filling it with free oxygen and other seemingly important gases, it pried open the pod and allowed Raymond Nix a second chance at life. Floating in a diamond bubble 132.5 parsecs from Earth is the last place Nix expected to be. Terrified yet hopeful, he spoke in his characteristic Lupus/Wauwatosa accent (one that always make the listener think you’re from somewhere near Milwaukee), politely requesting what the hell was happening.

More nanotubes extended from the inside surface of the diamond sphere and infiltrated deep into his body. They probed, queried, sent test signals that gave Raymond hallucinations and alien thoughts. Full communication followed, and understanding blossomed. The Cloud requested that Raymond take some portion of itself with him, to let the Cloud explore the universe.

“Your vacuum adapted form won’t survive in a gravity well.” Raymond explained, “You would collapse without a physical form like mine.”

“Not yours.” It spoke, “hers.”

The Cloud probed again and began copying memories and spinning up bones, organs and a functioning human brain. Within a few hours, a perfect copy of Raymond’s dead wife Riley stood in front of him. All of the Cloud’s millions of years of knowledge and observations flooded into the new being. A spark animated the body and she asked simply, “Can we go now?”

At first Raymond resisted, this form was perfect, at least as perfect as he remembered her. Thus, she was an idealized copy, a clone the Cloud designed to tempt him into acceptance.

“I could go without you. Spin up a pod of my own and venture across space for the next few million years.” It threatened, the implication that he would remain here, without hope of escape, for the hours his air supply would last.   

It hit him that this being, the cloud and its tempting avatar had no companionship, nothing to compare itself to, no instances of having to make rational or moral choices. This thing was a monster. A monster that was about to be inflicted upon the universe. It needs a balance.

“We’ll go together.” He stated flatly. Maybe he could prevent disaster.

So next time you’re at some seedy booze-pit on Remmick, or slumming with the Tribals at Collinz-Port, or even drifting through the cybernetic microcosm of the Quantum Jones Very Large Brain at Mercator University on Planet Clarke, and you see a couple laughing at the next table, and one of them looks very like long-lost Raymond Nix, just walk away.  

Zerped

The Zerped are a race of gigantic wormhole constructors. A mix of ultra-tech cyberware and vacuum-adapted alien flesh, the Zerped number only a few thousand. They enter an area of space, shoot it full of wormhole networks and depart. Bloody conflicts follow as races who wouldn’t mix for hundreds of years are suddenly neighbors.

Currently these spatial engineers are engaged in perforating the Mylax Cluster near Phong, in Cephei Sector. Corporate interests, the Xenohuman Alliance and the Union Military are poised to dive in when the first wormhole activates. For now, the enormous Engineer/Ships are still laboring away on the project, seemingly oblivious to the swarm of travel-hungry vessels nearby.

Zerpeds do not communicate with those who gather around them. They merely toil away in silence.  

Here's a bunch of stuff from my 2600CE campaign, hope you enjoy it. 
 
The Remains of Doxxis Prima

Generally regarded as the greatest scientific failure in the history of the galaxy, Doxxis was the first (we think) planet to perfect Chronotropic Matter.

Chronotropic Matter, once created, exists in all times, past and present, spiraling backward through history as if it had always existed. Rememberer Nora Lenderbee travelled quite by accident to Doxxis on a site-seer cruise and was nearly struck down by what she saw.

The entire planet, and several worlds beyond Doxxis, were in complete ruin. They had created an inclined plinth of Chronotron-doped marble and placed a similarly doped book, written in their oldest language, of all their terribly impressive technology. This book, they reasoned, would allow their ancient ancestors to craft no end of modern technology and conquer the universe.

They used the technology to blow themselves up repeatedly. Small stellar empires would rise around Doxxis, only to be wiped out in mere months. Now, in the altered timeline, Doxxis and her ruined child-worlds roll on through the black, a testament to invention without ethics.

The Doxians themselves are only known from the illustrations in the book, and what few records and skeletons survived their repeated failures. If any remain at large, they are likely the last of their kind.