Yesterday, 02:13 PM
This post was last modified Yesterday, 02:56 PM by UltraBudgie. 
"I'm in... a garden?"
Zorg tried to conceal his surprise. Swiftly, he took stock of his surroundings. Green foliage. Chlorophyll-based vegetation. Some type of tumor portruding from the leaf-entity beside him? His mind raced back to the orientation deep-learning scenarios that had been zip-trained into his mind. Ah. A "flower". Not a threat.
He took stock of his body. What, no pseudopodia? Two flap-appendages. How would he hold his blaster-rifle? Zorg realized suddenly that he was unarmed.
What a strange body. The tiny beak seemed unfit for any type of disemboweling. His talons, thankfully, were intact, although they seemed better suited for grasping dendritic entites rather than metatronic prey.
And what was this covering him? His exoskeleton was gone, replaced by some sort of patterned softness. Ugh. His neural database soon provided a name: feathers. Useful for flight. Well, that was something.
As his mission parameters reestablished themselves, Zorg attempted to howl his dominance. Only a shrill peep emerged. Embarrased, his head bobbed in quick consternation. Had anyone noticed?
Finally, the orientation adaptation was complete. Looking up at the night sky, Zorg took a brief moment to savor his purpose. Soon, soon, he could begin, and the sooner he began, the sooner this nightmare assignment would be over.
This planet's nightmare, however, had only just begun.
I followed the Science, and all I found was the Money.