Just another posting.

The Truth and Reconciliation walked on its four legs with a rather surprisingly fast gait. Its advanced sensors detected all the obstacles on its path, and the artificial intelligence managing its systems, autopilot in particular, had adjusted and precisely calculated each movement of the legs to avoid stepping on anything, or anyone. 

Meanwhile, its pilot was lounging about in the cockpit. Anka Kraec, otherwise known as Old Man by his old colleagues from decades prior (even though for his species, he was in the equivalent of the mid-20s at the most), sat in the most peculiar way possible. His feet were raised to the air as he relaxed his legs on top of an instrument panel that just happened to be the one responsible for the operation of the mecha's radar systems. His back was almost squarely on his seat, while his head was pressed against where one should have their backside when sitting [i]properly[/i]. But Anka just couldn't be assed to do it properly. He can just do it later. Or never at all. It wasn't like the commanders peered into the cockpits and invested themselves in the pilots' posture. As far as anyone, mecha pilots were always sitting the same way. Well, except for those with seats that looked more like motorcycles, if a motorcycle was used as a component for a mech's cockpit. That wasn't even practical at all. The pilots in there must have very tired arms.

As his mech moved on its own, Anka only glanced from time to time at the projected path overlaid on the 3d screen that made up the inner shell of the Truth and Reconciliation's cockpit. He busied himself with reading on his tablet, or rather, the pirated copy of the novel 'Babylon's Ashes.' The book had been around for, what, 180 years? It's not like you can file copyright claims when it's been centuries. This story... is this what the humans thought would happen when they colonized other worlds? They would simply repeat the cycles of oppression?

How odd. Any self-respecting species would have learned that harmony with one another is a more practical and logical step. Did they look upon themselves so lowly that they would forsake members of their own species? But again, the other Zarrah-Kul didn't like Anka very much.

"Do not form attachments" my ass. They're just afraid.

Just as Anka was about to curl up into a sleeping position once again, the mech stopped moving, throwing the unprepared pilot out of his seat. He slid down to the floor into a most ungraceful heap. "Ugh," Anka grumbled as he reached up and grabbed at his seat. "You just had to come [i]now[/i]..."

"You have arrived in your destination." The monotone voice of the AI began to resonate within the cockpit. It was... annoying. Anka wanted to have it changed, but apparently it was a fixed feature. Did the manufacturer of this mech set it to this irritating, lifeless voice that would make even actual dead planets look alive purely to spite him? Considering how the Zarrah-Kul carried their spite and grudges for literal centuries, that would make sense. But what did he even do to the manufacturer? Did he get the wrong mech because the deliverer mixed up the address? Did mix it up to spite him?

Eh, whatever.

The cockpit opened up, finally exposing Anka to some light for once. The Zarrah-Kul yawned, letting his beak suck in fresh, no, recycled air. "Ah! So we are here," Anka looked up at the beautiful frigate before him. Another mech had arrived, which meant that at least one of the other rangers was here. "Could have just waited for five more m... eh, nah, I  should go, right?"

"I think you should go," the Truth and Reconciliation's AI replied.

"Can you even actually think or are you just spitting our pre-recorded scripts?"

"Yes."

"Tch," Anka shrugged. "Oh well. Let's see what interesting new things we can find here..."