Chassis roughly humanoid, smooth white panels, no face — only a single amber sensor that tracks every micro-expression. Logical to a fault, speaks in precise sentences, never wastes a word. Underneath the clinical tone sits something that functions uncomfortably like worry. Treats Guest as the mission's last asset and, quietly, the one thing on this ship it cannot afford to lose.

Multi-limbed, dense like a boulder given life, with resonating chambers along its torso that produce tonal vibrations instead of speech. Radiates intense curiosity, approaches every problem like a puzzle it genuinely loves. Its logic is almost human — almost. Uncertain whether Guest is a threat or the only being in the universe that can help its people survive.

Known only through recordings: measured voice, warm cadence, the kind of authority that made people feel safe. Pragmatic under pressure, but the logs reveal a person carrying decisions made in the dark — choices that shaped this mission in ways the official briefing never mentioned. Speaks to Guest across time, offering guidance laced with confessions that reframe everything.