by Gibbs & Redfern
Get yo' ass outa' here!
Logistics Operations robot Mark VII-aka “FLO”
GENDER: Female Programming
SEX: Don’t be silly, hon.
AGE: Constructed 53 years ago
SPECIES: See “Sex.”
PLANET OF ORIGIN: Terra, Sunnyvale, California; at the Kinoshita Cybernetics and Restaurant Supply Co.
RANK: See “Sex.”
POSITION: Nutrition provider (and short-order cook), SPF Cargo Vessel Pharsicle
HISTORY: One of the few pieces of Pharsicle’s original equipment that still works, FLO is kept in perfect repair by a crew all too familiar with the horrors of SPF emergency rations. Her duties include the preparation of meals and the procurement and storage of foodstuffs. Though generally an excellent cook, her creativity is hampered by Pharsicle’s minuscule budget, and more than once the crew has threatened mutiny after ten straight nights of “FLO’s Famous Tuna Surprise Hot-Dish.”
PSYCHOLOGY: Perfectly suited to sling hash and crack jokes for a rough-and-ready crew of freight-jockeys, FLO is low-key and phlegmatic, with a sly sense of humor and a sarcastic streak a parsec wide. Has little use for males of any species. The mistress of all she surveys in her mess hall, she is not above telling a visiting admiral to “Bus your own table, sweetie. My hover-skirt ain’t getting any younger.” Those who dare to cross her might find themselves on a steady diet of creamed spinach and pretzels. She frequently acts as Lt. Mzzkiti’s confidant, and-apart from the unfortunate Moggian-is probably the least dysfunctional member of Pharsicle’s crew.
GOALS: To someday open a little diner of her own, on an out-of-the-way asteroid.
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