Larzi's Questionnaire

I live in a small out of the way cubby in Engineering. I'm... tolerated there because of my usefulness. I'm good at what I do, and I what I do is engineering work. I've never been allowed to touch the engine (superstitious assholes), but I work on junction boxes, small devices, things that need fixing that require specialized knowledge. I'm willing to work for cheap in exchange for being allowed to live close by and continue my work creating prototypes of future engines.

The place I sleep is... I think a repurposed storage room? It doesn't have any of the dressing of a typical living space, no kitchen, no lavatory, nowhere to sleep. I have since fixed all of those things, mind you. Learning how to build a toilet was pretty fun!

I get my money doing odd jobs around Engineering. The kind of stuff that is considered too lowly for a member of their self-righteous cult to concern themselves with on a regular basis. "The Engine requires blah blah blah, go fix the toilet in section 27-B." That kinda shit. Sometimes literally. It's not that I mind the work itself, this ship runs on people like me doing work like this. C&C likes to pretend that without them the entire ship would fall apart, but let me tell you, if Reclamation decided it didn't want to clean the floors anymore, we'd all be dead. It's just assholes pretending to be above me by acting like it's embarrassing, or that I'm lesser because I do manual labor.

I want to make the perfect starship engine. Something so fast and fuel efficient, we'd be able to reach where ever it is we're going in less than a generation. I've heard stories about what it's like to live planetside, and I want to see it. I want to know what it's like to not breathe recycled air, to go swimming in a lake, stuff like that. I'm not so naive that I think all our problems would be solved by getting to a planet and finishing the job this ship was made for, but I think life would be a hell of a lot easier. People wouldn't feel so desperate, so caged in, so... violent towards eachother. At least, I hope so.

I... I really don't like hurting people. I think there's already plenty of that to go around, and we don't need more bloodshed on such a tiny ship. But, I think if I had to, I'd pull the trigger. If someone wants to hurt others and isn't willing to listen to reason... I don't know, actually.

Yeah. I'm willing to die.

Most defining event of my life was the explosion. I was working on another prototype for my dream engine. At this point I was a young and stupid kid, maybe 17. I was stress testing it, slowly upping its output to see just how much it could handle. In my infinite wisdom, I kept it a little past its peak while I was looking inside it. Wanted to get a more personal look at what was happening, sensors were too abstract.

Predictably, the engine fucking exploded.

Engulfed half my body in flames and nearly killed me. I was damn lucky it was shoddy construction, otherwise the blast would've been big enough to properly send me to Reclamation. Blew apart my larynx, and melted half my chitin. Body has never been the same, but I've learned how to adapt, for the most part. Getting body wash is still a pain in the ass.

Shreena is the closest thing to a parent I've ever had. I met them when I was a little kid, they were visiting Reclamation for business (that's what they call dumpster diving). We hit it off pretty easily, at least when it comes to an adult who looks human and a humanoid bug child. They could tell I liked to build things, that I was wasted on recycling duty. So they decided to take me in, made a little spot for me in their corner of the Factory levels. Taught me everything I know about engineering, and how to make use of the broken parts people usually just send to Reclamation. I call them Pops or Moms depending on how they're presenting that day. I love them.

Blinking-Pilot-Light is my... Landlord? I don't really know what to call him. He's born and raised as an Engineer, and worships that Engine with everything he's got. Sometimes what he's got is my rent for the singular room I'm allowed to call my own. He isn't unkind, but I can tell he doesn't like me very much. Whatever, as long as he doesn't give me shit, I don't really mind.

Marigold is a Messenger friend. She's taught me most of the languages I know, and has helped me out of a couple jams. She was born to the Cultivators but the lifestyle didn't suit her, so she left first chance she got. We met when I was older, around 20, I think. We hit it off pretty well, I hope. We've been friends for years so I guess that's a good sign. She helped set me up with a spot in Engineering, even if she thought I was crazy for wanting to live there. I've also had a huge crush on her ever since we met, but I doubt that will ever go anywhere. Not a lot of ladies like severely scarred, socially awkward Bug People.