Tuton Jetz, Technocannibal
After their medic and half the band died in a misguided raid on what turned out to be a Unitas Red Rain training facility, Tuton Jetz was promoted from zeo mechanic to doctor in what was very much a learn-as-you-go capacity. As it turned out he loved the work, taking every opportunity to learn something new. This is the only thing that kept him alive after being left behind on a burning enemy vessel as it crashed into a forgotten moon at the bottom-end of a low-traffic slipway.
Grievously injured and trapped in the rival warband’s burning zeo bay, Tuton, with hours to live and fighting multiple imminent organ failures, made a stew of his two primary disciplines and did the unthinkable: implanted a kitbashed pacemaker into his own chest without anaesthetic. It provided enough stability for him to self-surgery his remaining catalog of injuries and formulate a way to survive the imminent loss of oxygen and atmosphere.
Today “Tuton Jetz” is a name laughed at in spacer bars as a horror story that aging jockeys tell to rattle newbies on their first slip, or as accounts from slow-voiced and brainlocked survivors who never want to set foot in the void ever again.
Tuton Jetz survived for seven years on the glassed, airless, and irradiated tertiary moon of Kihor by perpetually modifying himself to survive environmental death sentences, but also the conundrum of no new modification being entirely compatible with previous ones.
When, finally, a yacht bearing a hapless assessor from the Remar family dynasty landed to take stock of what mining infrastructure remained on the moon, Tuton Jetz was no longer human. A technological horror of improvised confabulation doomed to perpetually modify or die, he now preys primarily on zeo units, taking from them what he needs to keep his increasingly unstable series of surgical modifications functioning.
