Iseph pulled their hand away from their side. Their fingers were sticky and purple with their own synthetic blood. The android winced and calculated the odds of completing the contract: 67.3%. Suboptimal.
This bulk freighter was supposed to be derelict, but the corridors were crawling with bone troopers and starving vacc ghouls. A bone trooper, grinning with its whole skull, perched at the controls of a turret and shot Iseph down as they tried to land in the cargo bay. The android’s integrated force field took the brunt of the impact, but a jagged bit of wreckage pierced Iseph’s side. A medpatch relieved the discomfort of severed processors. A few rounds from their semi-auto pistol took care of the bone trooper.
Iseph dashed down gloomy corridors toward the reactor core, a satchel of explosive charges swinging from their shoulder. The priest of Pharasma on Lucent Station who’d hired Iseph was right—this was a rogue Corpse Fleet vessel, locked on a collision course with the tiny asteroid settlement. An invasion? If so, cracking the reactor apart would prevent untold loss of lives.
Iseph found the blast door to the reactor sealed. A grinning skull icon sneered from the display. A quantum pick from their infiltrator kit and a good shove persuaded the cranky door to open. A deep hum throbbed out from the murky reactor chamber and a strong whiff of void energies tickled Iseph’s olfactory sensors. This was no derelict freighter.
Three grated catwalks, stacked one above the other, surrounded the hemispherical reactor far below. The blast door spat Iseph out onto the middle deck. Radiation flared the operative’s built-in force field. Levels just below redline, but that wasn’t the problem. The starving pack of vacc ghouls on the catwalk above was.
Recalculating. There is now a 53.5% chance of successfully completing the contract. Lucent Station required better odds.
An emaciated ghoul dangled from the cables above, waving a cutlass-shaped grindblade. Iseph sighted it through the sniper scope and blew it screaming to the reactor pile below. Another pair dropped in front of them waving grindblades. Iseph batted one slash away, gritting their teeth as dermal plating took the blow. That ghoul staggered out into midair and vanished. The android flipped their rifle around and bashed the second one, then drew their pistol and fired three rounds into its head. A third ghoul clambered like a spider along the underside of the catwalk right into the last sniper round.
Recalculating…75% chance of success.
Iseph’s next target was a tangle of vapor-swaddled conduits that rose up from the core, braided through the catwalk levels. A coffin-like emergency shunt sat on the deck nearby. An explosion there would reverberate up and down the conduits, maximizing a chain reaction.
Iseph gripped their side as they limped towards the shunt. A hulking creature emerged from the vapor clouds. Tall as a standard human, but twice as broad, it was composed of hunks of oozing flesh. A blue-and-silver armored coat festooned with the rank badges of an admiral barely contained its squirming flesh. The admiral grinned at Iseph with sharp, rotten teeth and swung a massive grindblade to the ready. A pair of rigor mortics, constructs of raw flesh and armor plating with integrated shields, lumbered into flanking positions.
Recalculating…50% probability of success.
Predictably, the rigor mortics charged forward shields first to shove Iseph off the catwalk. The admiral advanced behind them, wheezing in sharp, lungless gasps that the android hypothesized were an attempt at laughter.
Iseph grabbed one of the shields and yanked it clean from the rigor mortic’s bony grip, then plunged the zero knife into a visual organ. Silvery-black ichor streamed from the wound. Iseph slammed the pistol to its forehead, pulled the trigger, and sent the undead plunging headless into the reactor.
Iseph vaulted over the other rigor mortic, slicing a bundle of cables that festooned the deck. The cut cables vented steam and coolant, twisting on the deck like live serpents. The hapless rigor mortic became entangled in the coils. The android emptied the entire magazine of their pistol into its bulbous head, spattering gore across the deck.
Ammo depleted. Odds at 52%.
Snarling at the demise of its rigor mortics, the admiral lunged at Iseph with the heavy grindblade. Iseph hurled the zero knife and the cold blade buried itself deep in the admiral’s neck. Pus boiled from the wound, but the monster just laughed as it continued to advance.
Iseph grabbed one of the cut cables and swung out over the abyss. The grindblade whooshed through the empty radioactive gloom where Iseph had been only moments before.
45%.
Momentarily clear of the catwalk, Iseph unclipped the incendiary grenade at their belt with a free hand and pulled the electronic pin. Then they tossed the grenade at the admiral. The brute vanished in the explosion, leaving behind only jagged pieces of bone and metal. Iseph swung back to the catwalk and landed safely on deck.
Increasing probability of success: 89%.
Iseph approached the emergency shunt, reaching for a charge. They stopped short at the flow viewport. Inside, instead of a reactor feed there was a humanoid face. The humanoid was young, and softly glowing vermilion arcs traced across their features. An android. Distorted black veins of void energy pulsed in parallel swirls alongside their circuitry. The necrotization of tissue indicated a 35% chance the android was a borai or some other type of undead.
Iseph stepped back, still clutching the charges. This “shunt” was nothing more than a sarcophagus hooked up directly to the reactor. What kind of being would need to draw that much power?
There was a high probability this android was a necrovite waiting to be reborn in undeath. The android’s eyelids flew open and met Iseph’s searching gaze with their own. Their curious expression melted to pure terror. Though the operative couldn’t hear their cries through the thick portal, the meaning was clear: Help me!
Iseph glanced at the explosives in their hands. They could help free the android one way—or another. Was this a ruse? Processing new directive.Odds for success: Unable to calculate. Iseph placed the charges in standby and back in their bag. They toggled the latches on the sarcophagus. Clouds of vapor smelling like decaying plant matter spilled from the hatch.
The creature dropped to their knees and gasped. Trailing wires and tubes kept them connected to the machinery in the sarcophagus. “Thank you,” they whispered.
Iseph visualized half a dozen martial strikes to neutralize the kneeling android, but remained still, curiously moved by their stark vulnerability. “What were you doing in there?”
The other shrugged. “They t-took me.”
“Who took you?”
“Don’t remember. But I didn’t w-want to go.” The other’s voice was shaky, indicating confusion and anxiety. Iseph considered that. They, too, had once woken up not remembering.
“I have a directive to destroy this place,” Iseph advised.
The necrotized android regarded Iseph warily. They stood as the umbilical tubes detached with wet pops and examined themself as if for the first time, another familiar act. Something stirred in Iseph.
“Do w-what you must. I won’t stop y-you,” the other said.
“You won’t,” Iseph agreed, strangely conflicted about that answer. They set a charge against the power coupling of the sarcophagus and armed it. Shunt or not, the device was still connected directly to the reactor.
94% chance of success.
“I’m Avel.” The other’s eyes glimmered with vermilion light.
“Iseph. You should come with me.”
Avel arched a glowing brow. “Are you sure? I don’t know to what purpose I’ve been set.”
Iseph shook their head and set the rest of the charges. “Then find your own purpose. Everyone should have that chance.” Avel looked around at the cavernous ship of the dead, considering. Calculating their own odds, maybe? Iseph checked their remote detonator and set it on standby.
“Let’s leave this wretched place, Iseph,” Avel said with a shudder. They found the escape pods three decks above. No bone troopers or rigor mortics impeded them. Perhaps Avel was repelling them with a secret signal. Iseph opened the pod’s hatch and ushered Avel inside. The other android hesitated.
“Will they accept me where we’re going?” Avel asked. Iseph shrugged. The Pharasman priest would likely need to be persuaded. Iseph could handle that.
A huge shadow crashed into Iseph, knocking them to the deck. The detonator skittered from their hand. The admiral towered over Iseph, its flesh charred and suppurating from the grenade blast. Its jaw hung loose, enhancing its vicious grin. It held the splintered ends of the grindblade against Iseph’s throat. Avel stepped over to the detonator and picked it up. Was this betrayal after all? Iseph began to calculate the probability. Avel smiled and thumbed the button.
The deck shook and the admiral toppled back. Iseph kipped up to their feet, feeling their medpatch—and the artificial flesh beneath it—tear open in a new arc of fire. Iseph ignored the painful sensory stimulus and shoved Avel into the pod. They crawled in after, sealing the hatch.
The admiral’s howling face appeared at the viewport. Iseph slammed the launch trigger and the escape pod blasted into space. In the distance, the freighter’s hull spasmed as explosions in the reactor tore it apart. Lucent Station, still just a speck of spinning rock in the forward viewport, was safe.
Mission Complete. Or was it? Avel stared at their destination, expression tight.
“I don’t know what they did to me, Iseph. I could be a danger to the ones you saved.” Avel said. Iseph shook their head, wondering at this unexpected deviation from their mission. Avel had not been part of their calculations before, but they certainly were now.
Illustration by Mirco Paganessi
About the Author
Penn Romine teaches animation and VFX, following a career working in Hollywood on award-winning films and television. His first novel, The Mosquito Fleet, is available now from Broken Eye Books. His stories have appeared in Lightspeed, FUNGI, HELP FUND MY ROBOT ARMY, and BY FAERIE LIGHT. He lives in the Pacific Northwest and enjoys mixing cocktails and watching terrible movies. You can find him all over theinternet.About the Iconic
Iseph (they/them) is a nonbinary android operative who has cybernetically modified their body into the perfect precision weapon. Iseph swaps between their trusty pistol, rifle, and zero knife (plus other gear looted off their take-downs) and knows how to aim to deal the most effective damage to a target.About Iconic Encounters
Iconic Encounters is a series of web-based flash fiction set in the worlds of Pathfinder and Starfinder. Each short story provides a glimpse into the life and personality of one of the games’ iconic characters, showing the myriad stories of adventure and excitement players can tell with the Pathfinder and Starfinder roleplaying games.
Learn more about the operative class in Starfinder Player Core, releasing at Gen Con 2025, on paizo.com, and at your friendly local game store! Be the first to play Starfinder Second Edition by subscribing to the Starfinder RPG or Starfinder RPG (Special Edition) lines and receive a free PDF when your book ships!
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