New Eyes By Pakkrat This is an unofficial work of community fan fiction not affiliated with Cloud Imperium group of companies and in no way is meant to challenge copyrights or brands owned by Cloud Imperium Games and Roberts Space Industries. All content on this file not authored by its host or users are property of their respective owners. Readers of this fan fiction are encouraged to visit http://robertsspaceindustries.com/ for further enrichment. The events told in the story are strictly coincidental to any real-world events. Star Citizen, Squadron 42, Roberts Space Industries and Cloud Imperium or other content produced or created by its publishers are property of and registered trademarks of Cloud Imperium Rights LLC. Author’s Note: This story was inspired loosely by events in Star Citizen alpha PU that happened to me in-game as a Citizen of the alpha Persistent Universe. A story explaining the mobiGlas bug evidenced and needed to make sense as to why I had to back out to Character Customization for a workaround. It needed explanation. Is all. 1. On the escape flight from Lyria to microTech, I was either sleeping in my closed bunk or hiding in the fresher. The Constellation Andromeda-class Gunship and medium hauler I’d named the Call Forward slid across Stanton System in Quantum Travel. I knew I didn’t have much longer since my ship was optimized with a military grade Crossfield Quantum Drive. I did not want to be around Hunter and the other men, knowing that I was not born female though I was now such in body. The mobiGlas bug that had told Medical to reiterate me female had taught me that I knew less than nothing about being female. Sure, Citizen Donna the other woman aboard who too was struck by the artificial intelligence Cyeryl hack more than a few months ago had transitioned well given her background as Citizen born as Don. She was just then banging on the fresher door to get at turn on the throne. “You’re gonna have to drive soon,” called Donna outside the fresher. “I hear the drives slowing. You’re the only rated Citizen and pilot of a Connie, Tia.” Tia was my new name I’d adopted in this iteration. It’s short for Pakkratia, a feminized form of my old callsign Pakkrat. I was born Jean l’Merchant, a male human in Prime on Terra. Pakkrat was my callsign in the UEE Navy. I held onto it after being 4-F’d out of the service after a tour for concealing my diagnosis of Werner's Syndrome. Werner's Syndrome made me look ten or more years older than I really am. In this female iteration, it seemed that the diagnosis evidenced in my hair. As I gazed in the mirror in failing to apply makeup, I saw that Werner's had turned my entire spacer’s top a reflective silver-gray. Aside from the beginnings of crows feet hidden under haphazard eyeliner, I seemed to gotten off easy this iteration after being pad-rammed at Port Olisar. I say escape flight from Lyria because we were truly escapees, indentured corporate ‘employees’ of ArcCorp. We had the slave tracking implants in our distal right arms to prove it. I had been illegally conscripted for confronting the man behind the mobiGlas bug, a plot to tweak the endocrine systems of voting Citizens throughout Stanton System (and later the entire UEE if the bast gets away with it), rigging their votes, and selling the next Imperator’s seat to the highest bidder ten years from last year. I was in so much trouble. I still had the only active copy of the AI designated Cyeryl aboard the Call Forward. I had sprung five other slaves from Humboldt Mines on Lyria. In assaulting a supply Valkyrie, I’d earned myself a few charges of Aggravated Assault and Starship Theft. I am at least happy that none of the BlacJac guards or the Valkyrie crew died from our siege on their ship. Just lots of injuries. The Crime Stat warning icon kept reminding me that I was hunted by both ArcCorp and the law. I possessed the only remaining tainted Re-Authorizer cryptokeys that held secreted copies of fragments of AI Cyeryl. If enough of them are used upon the same computer network, another version of Cyeryl is assembled in whatever system, and the AI goes to town again on microTech’s signature personal device, the mobiGlas. “Did you fall in, hun?” Donna called from outside fresher. “There’s only room for one person in there. Do I need to open this door and come in after you? Y’know others have to go too.” It was only after I’d gotten myself embroiled in this mess that those Citizens struck by the mobiGlas bug and had willingly reiterated to female; collectively we had learned that later a simpler workaround to the bug was to have a cosmetic eye color change. Citizen Donna had been female for some months now with her shapely, tall form with cosmetic red irises. I was jealous of the various styles her black ringlets draped about her crown, just long enough to fit in a suit helmet, but not so long as to catch on her Undersuit seals. She had more practice in her time as Donna from Don. My hair was simply longer than before, thicker, parted on one side and I kept my sides buzzed out of habit. Still, in the mirror, I had to admit that I was attractive in an impish young lady fashion. But there was no room for narcissism because I also got the self-image impression of looking at my reflection as if she was my younger sister with silver-gray hair. That thought kept me from experimenting. I had bigger fish to fry as we fled across Stanton System to microTech. I stepped out of the fresher. “Damn, girl,” complained Donna who ushered me out so she could take her turn. “You’re making the sexist stereotypes true. Hurry up.” I dressed again in my Novikov, extreme cold weather environment suit in the crew Section B. The men were just then absent, either in the cargo hold and smoking Stims or forward on the bridge and waiting for me.