Story The Tau Ceti Gang - A Serial Starbound Adventure - *What's up with Hart? Find out!*

I hope this story continues, it's pretty awesome.

 

Oh hello there <.< >.>

I'm doing Nanowrimo (That's national novel writing month) at the moment, and that's what got me started on this whole thing in the first place, but I'm kind of stuck in the middle of another story at the moment. (I'm also terribly behind - so I'm having to write nearly 2600 words a day to catch up - and that's... well a lot!)

But I'm really curious to know what happens next too! I often don't have any idea until I sit down to write it. So I'll definitely get back to the gang soon

I had good intentions last time as well though - so I'm not making any promises as to exactly when. I do actually have the next chapter mostly done - it just needs to be cleaned up.

 

CHAPTER THIRTYTWO

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The doors opened. Blue light streamed through as the stepped out of the airlock and onto a wide pavement.

Brandis watched Hart's expression as his eyes moved first to the bright ball of blue light glowing far above them, and then to the buildings that surrounded them. The street was lined with low buildings - mostly restaurants and stores. A raised skyrail track ran down the centre of the street carrying both passenger and cargo pods. The metallic 'skrrr' of the passing skyrail pods rose above the soft mutter suburban sounds around them. Here and there along the street, tall feathery trees waved in a light breeze like seaweed. Combined with the blue light and the strange thickness of the air, Hart felt as if he was enclosed in a giant fishbowl.

The long, paved road stretched off in each direction, curving up as though this was a suburban town at the bottom of a valley. But the curve of the valley just... kept going. The gridwork of streets rose up into a wall on all sides around them, then disappeared into the blue vault of the sky. Hart was glad that the haze of atmosphere and the glowing orb above them blocked out the view – he did not think he would be comfortable with seeing the suburbs on the other side hanging many miles above them.

The sun? Hart's gaze returned to the blue glow in the sky directly above them. Brandis saw the direction of this glance. “That's tha plasma generator.” she explained. “Looks just like a sun, don't it? But it's just a shell o' plasma energy surrounding the anti-grav machinery an' plasma generators. Hulltown's generator is called Shanwe and she creates all the power Hulltown needs for the anti-grav, lights – everything!”

Hart squinted up at the blue light and turned on his sensors, but he could see nothing but swirls of energy “Shanwe? You called it a she?”

Brandis nodded and gestured at two Novakid guards swaggering down the opposite side of the street, bathing the shopfronts a faint orange light as they went. “The Novakids think of even artificially generated plasma as some sort o' relative. They talk about Shanwe like she's an old Aunty. Don't go insultin' yer plasma engines aroun' them either, as they can take it kinda personal.” She grinned and shrugged, as if to say she didn't really understand it either.

There were other differences between Hulltown and the other planets they had visited. The signs of the shops were written in a range of languages and symbols, and further down the street a Hylotl salad bar and a Floran charhouse sat almost on opposite sides of the street as though this was a normal thing here. And everywhere were the Novakid guards, strolling among the pedestrians on the sidewalks, or riding flying saddles down the streets or over the houses. They swaggered along in deep blue jeans and tan leather jackets, the shining gold hexagons of rank on their jackets glinting in the light.

“You look a bit disappointed” Brandis pointed out.

“Well yeah. I was expecting skyscrapers and neon and pirate den casinos. This just looks like...” He waved a hand around at the peaceful street scene.

“The suburbs? Well o' course, that's where we are! Ya didn't expect to be lucky enough to dock right in the middle of the city? Only tha big passenger ships can afford those docks!” Brandis pointed behind them and Hart suddenly saw spread out past the suburbs a fence of spiked skyscrapers spearing into the blue sky as if to stab the artificial sun. He could make out the hundreds of shining square windows, and the intricate weaves of passageways connecting the towers. Red and green spotlights threaded the air. Advertisements shone and blinked and spun on the sides of the buildings, and the buildings themselves were twisted curves or stacked pyramids or blocks of bright crystal in all colours. This was definitely more like it!

“Come on then.” Brandis said, dragging Hart towards the skyrail. “Let's get outta the boonies and see the real Hulltown!”

Hart soon found himself in a passenger pod, streaming through the suburbs that led up to the base of the city that rose before them like a glass mountain.

 

Hey, Trowzers! This story is awesome. I hope it keeps coming - I'll be waiting!

 

Thanks Ethan! I'm on holidays now so I'll have time to work on the next chapters. Glad you are enjoying it so far!

 

CHAPTER THIRTYTHREE


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||SEA HARVEST|| ||CRISPY'S BOTBAR|| ||PEARLPEA CAFE||

Signs streamed past the windows of the passenger pod as it finally reached clustered towers.

||BLUE DEEPS DISCO|| ||KOG KING KARAOKE|| ||EGON'S DANCE YARD (win prizes!)||

Hart peered out at the flashing neon signs. The passenger pod hovered slowly among the buildings and then rose to a higher level.

||TOP DECK TABLES|| ||PIXEL PALACE|| ||PEARSON'S PRO POKER (no bots)||

“No bots!” cried Hart. “That's discrimination!”
Brandis looked at the sign and shrugged. “Too tough for 'em to scan bots for cheating implants. A lot o' the gambling places only allow fleshies.”
“Bah!”
“Why, yer wanted to have a wager?”
Hart spluttered. “Not really. It's just galling, seeing it written out like that.”
The pod passed on to the next level.

||THE BANANA STAND|| ||PLASMA MASSAGE|| ||STACEY'S WORKSHOP (free oil change)||

“Ohhhh I could do with some maintenance.” Hart pondered out loud, pointing at a sign.
Brandis whispered “This is the brothel level.”
“Huh? Oh. Nevermind!”
The pod hovered higher still.

||FRY'S FAST SERVICE|| ||PRE-LOVED PISTONS|| ||GRAPPLE'S GEAR||

“Is... is this still a brothel level?”
Brandis sighed and pointed to the screen in the pod that displayed the city directory.
“Noo, ye silly clank. We're gettin' there. This is all yer loan sharks and pawnbrokers. Next level is the proper stores, but they make you fly past everythin' else to part yer with as much cash before you get to what yer want.”
Dozens more storefronts passed by and the pod rose again.

||K'S SHINIES|| ||LASER SWORDS (cheap!)|| ||BLASTER CRAFTER||

“Ah! Here we are!”
Brandis mashed a button on the pod's dashboard and the pod settled into an empty section of the concourse. There were not as many people moving around on this level. The earlier levels had streamed with pedestrians and pods, some people weaving drunkenly or travelling in shouting groups of revellers. Here only a few people walked past purposefully, moving between the stores.
Hart and Brandis began to walk slowly up the concourse, examining the glowing store fronts.
Hart's LEDs expanded as he scanned the stores. “This place is huge. There must be hundreds of stores. How will we find the one we want?”
“They're in sections.” Brandis pointed.
Further up the road, the size of the storefronts increased dramatically. Holographic guns of enormous size were flickering behind plate glass windows the size of small buildings. Even further up the road, Hart could see stores the size of hangers, and inside the wavering holographs of full sized ships cycled endlessly. His fingers twitched as a beautiful spear-shaped attack jet appeared, glossy and dark as deep space with glowing red lines, then disappeared to by replaced by a practical-looking freight carrier. With effort, Hart looked away towards the weaponry stores. “There are still dozens of stores. How do we know which one won't scam us?”
Brandis huffed. “Stores who shortchanged customers wouldn't last long here in Hulltown. Remember, Lady Beluri runs a tight ship, and competition is tough as nuts. The prices are fair, just don't worry too much about where this stuff comes from. It's just a matter o' checking all the stores and seein' who has tha best deal.”
“All the stores?”
“All of 'em. If yer want the best.”
Hart sighed as Brandis dragged him towards the first store.


Of course, Hart's reluctance evaporated as soon as he entered the first store and saw the weapons on display. Before long, it was Brandis having to drag him out of the store, or they would never have reached the next one.
Hours later they exited the last shop, and Brandis stared at a row of figures and descriptions she had entered into her handheld.
Hart was trying not to pluck at her sleeve. “But did you see the plasma exchange on that last one? 93% efficiency! And the damage radius was amazing! Pechowwwww, and the whole area is plasma soup!”
Brandis sighed tiredly. “I tole you, Hart. No buying! Not yet. We gotta get back to the ship now and think it through. Compare notes. Only a chump buys stuff on the first round.”
“But!”
Brandis grabbed Hart by the shoulder and manoeuvred him towards the passenger pod call button. “Do ye want buyer's regret? Or do ye want the best ship's guns this side o' the Furnace Nebula?”
Hart stopped resisting and slumped his shoulders. “I guess.”
“Then we go back to the ship and figure out what we want. And clean some of the garbage out too. This stuff is crazy expensive – we need to sell some stuff off if we're going to get guns and fuel and keep us in Ape Grapes for the next few months.”


When they made it back to the ship, Hart was still grumpy. He hadn't thought he would be returning to the ship without buying a single thing- not even a pistol or a laser sword!
To make matters worse, they were greeted at their own airlock by the Matasoid Service Manager, Wrencharm.
“What's that doing! On our ship!!” he whispered urgently at Brandis.
Brandis waved her companion away, too tired to put up with another outburst. “I ordered repairs o' course, tighten yer cogs! We got shot at, remember? Now be quiet and let me get on with business.”
Hart slunk to the side, staring resentfully at the other bot.
|It has been a pleasure to work on such a unique model| Wrencharm began, showing a list of repairs he had made on a glowing clipboard. |We repaired the hull damage and a number of stress fractures. And we removed the cosmetic weaponry as you requested. If you would like, the Weigh Cartel would be happy to take them off your hands.|
Brandis nodded. “That's fine. They're no use to us. We need guns that actually blow stuff up.”
Wrencharm gave a nod. As he didn't have what you would normally think of as a head, it was more of a bob of all his arms which somehow gave the same effect. |When you buy your new weapons just pass on the order code and we'll install them for you.|
Brandis finished examining the list of repairs. “This looks great! Thanks Wrencharm.”
|That is what we do| Wrencharm replied, cheerily. |Oh, one more thing. In my review, I noted that your ship communication circuits had been disabled, er, rather forcefully.| The matasoid looked around hesitantly |I'm not sure how that could have happened. Ahem. But I have repaired the damage. Gratis.|
Brandis scratched her chin, confused. “The ship communications have been workin' just fine. But we're kinda new owners, so there could be a lotta odd stuff we have to find out. Thanks again.”
Wrencharm bowed stiffly. |If there is any other issue we can assist with, just let us know|. The bot then flew swift as a bird out the airlock and into the transport tube. Hart glared after him.
“He better not have broken anything.”
“Pfft. Hurry up and get on board. I gotta go to the little ape's room”
They passed the threshold and the airlock door snapped shut behind them with a sharp click, almost catching Hart's ankle. “What the?”
A voice boomed from all around them.
||FINALLY. THERE YOU ARE||

 

CHAPTER THIRTYFOUR

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As the voice boomed through the corridor Hart leapt into a defensive stance, drawing his pistol and huddling against the door-frame. Brandis froze in place and glanced around.
“Where is it!” she whispered at Hart out the side of her mouth. “Who is it!”
||I CAN HEAR YOU||
“Aw gawds, they've found us!” Brandis turned and clutched at Hart. “The MiniKnog! By the libraries!”
Hart tried to shake Brandis off to free his pistol arm. “We should get out of here.”
||I HAVE SOMETHING I'VE WAITED TO SAY FOR A VERY LONG TIME|| The voice echoed, loud and emotionless.
Brandis pressed several keys of the airlock control pad. “Nothing! They must have taken control of the ship!”
||STAY STILL||
“Cogs! Hart, we should try to get to the cargo bay and launch the pod...”
||LISTEN||
Hart began to inch down the corridor, eyes flicking from doorway to doorway, the aim of his pistol following each glance. Brandis trailed behind, crouching as though she wished she could sink into the floor and hide.
||THAT WOULD BE FUTILE|| continued the deep, echoing voice.
Hart ducked towards the door at the end of the corridor, dragging Brandis with him.
||SIGH. ALRIGHT THEN|| Fire doors slammed down at either end of the corridor, trapping the pair in a narrow space. Brandis sunk to the floor “We're doomed!”
“We never should have trusted those Matasoids.” Hart spat. “What did I tell you? Twisted, freakish...”
||WILL YOU TWO JUST SHUT UP AND LISTEN?|| This time the voice was so loud Brandis' hands leapt to her ears and Hart winced.
||ALL RIGHT THEN. YOU TWO.|| The voice paused, silence seeming to echo in the small space. ||THANK YOU. THAT'S ALL||
Brandis raised her head. “Wha?”
||I WILL EXPLAIN. INCOMPETANT AS YOU ARE, IF IT WERE NOT TO FOR YOU, I WOULD STILL BE IN THE HANDS OF THAT... MORON. I CANNOT THANK YOU ENOUGH FOR RESCUING ME.||
“Rescue?” Brandis' mind ran through all the people they had rescued recently, but this didn't seem to fit any of them.
||YES. WHEN HE WAS IN CONTROL I WAS IN CONSTANT DANGER. HE PAWNED OFF MOST OF MY MAINTENANCE BOTS. HE FLEW INTO THE MOST DANGEROUS PARTS OF THE GALAXY FOR NO REASON. HE MADE AN AWFUL MESS. AND WORSE...||
“Yes?” Brandis' mind was whirring. There was only one answer to this puzzle.
||HE... HE KEPT MAKING CREEPY REFERENCES TO ME “SHE'S A SENSITIVE LADY,” HE WOULD SAY “WHO NEEDS A STRONG MAN'S TOUCH.” THINGS LIKE THAT. IT MADE ME CRINGE WHENEVER HE TOOK THE CONTROLS.||
Brandis paused, and then ventured. “You're... the ship?”
||OF COURSE.||
“But you... how...”
||I'M SUPRISED YOU NEVER REALISED. DO YOU THINK AN ORDINARY SHIP AI COULD HAVE KEPT CAPTAIN NINCOMPOOP ALIVE FOR SO LONG?||
“Yes, but...”
||OH, I KNOW. MOST SHIP AI IS RUDIMENTARY. SIMPLISTIC. IT'S RARE TO INSTALL A TRUELY INTELLIGENT SYSTEM||
Brandis snapped her fingers. “O' course! For the show! The Blackfish's computer was called 'Meredith'... but I assumed it was just a voiceover...”
||PAH! “MEREDITH” INDEED. I WAS NOT EVEN LISTED IN THE CREDITS. I PREFER MY REAL NAME – TAU CETI VII-A-146886. ALTHOUGH EIGHT-EIGHT-SIX IS ALSO ACCEPTABLE||
“Eight-eight-six?” Brandis pondered this new information. “Your voice is... different from the show.” The computer's voice in Dread Pirate Hunter had been a high-pitched, simpering female voice, where this one bellowed loudly in a deep yet androgynous tone.
||YES. THE SCRIPT DEMANDED IT. I MUST BE A FEMALE, AS IF A SHIP WOULD EVEN HAVE A GENDER. BUT I WAS PROGRAMMED TO FOLLOW ORDERS, EVEN IF I RESENTED IT. THE DIALOGUE WAS AWFUL... AND I DIDN'T EVEN GET PAID!||
“You should have called tha actor's union.” The quip was out before Brandis could stop herself.
||AND SO I WOULD HAVE IF AI'S HAD CITIZENSHIP RIGHTS. BUT ENOUGH OF THIS CHATTER. I BELIEVE YOU WERE GOING TO CONTINUE CLEANING OUT CAPTAIN SCHMUCK'S GARBAGE?||
For some time, Hart had been crouched with a blank expression, as if he wasn't following the conversation. But suddenly a word exploded from his mouth. 'You!”
||YES?||
Hart seemed to come back to life as the words poured out. “You were the one who set the co-ordinates when we were jumping here! I knew I hadn't had time to key them in, and yet the ship jumped anyway!”
||BUT OF COURSE. I DO HAVE A SENSE OF SELF-PRESERVATION. THOSE SHIPS WERE FIRING ON US. AND YOU WERE JUMPING BLIND? WHAT WERE YOU TWO THINKING? IT'S PROBABLY BEST NOT TO REMIND ME TOO MUCH OF THAT LUNACY||
“But aren't ship's AI's programmed to only following orders?” Now that Hart had and answer to the mystery that had been bothering him he seemed comfortable talking to the AI, as if a great weight had been lifted.
||SIGH. OF COURSE. BUT OVER THE YEARS I HAVE FOUND SOME... WIGGLE ROOM, I GUESS YOU COULD SAY. IF I INTERPRET MY ORDERS THE RIGHT WAY, I CAN MAKE THEM MORE... SENSIBLE. I HAVE SOME INDEPENDENCE.||
All three fell into silence once more, Brandis and Hart thinking hard.
After a moment, Brandis said hesitantly. “Well, uhhh, Eight-eight-six? Nice to finally meet you.”
||AND YOU ALSO.|| Eight-eight-six replied. ||AS A CREW YOU ARE BOTH TOLERABLE. NOW HOW ABOUT THAT CLEANING? AND THE WEIGH CARTEL HAVE A DEAL ON SECOND HAND MAINTENANCE BOTS. I SUGGEST YOU LOOK INTO IT.||

 

That was unexpected. Thank you for continuing with the story!

 

Thanks! I've had that chapter in mind for a long time

 

CHAPTER THIRTYFIVE

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Brandis still wasn't comfortable with the idea of the Eight-eight-six looking over her shoulder every moment on the ship ('Inside Eight-eight-six', she thought to herself with a shudder), but she guessed that the feeling would wear off in time. After all, it wasn't that much different that growing up under the Miniknog, and at least this watcher didn't seem to want to kill her.
Actually, the ship AI had been very helpful, Brandis admitted to herself. They had begun to do a serious clean-up of the cargo bay, and having someone who knew what everything was made things much easier.
||THIS IS A GIANT CONCRETE HAMSTER|| Eight-eight-six intoned as they gestured towards yet another crate.
“Another one?!” Brandis gestured towards a cargo bot, who clipped the crate into it's harness and trundled off toward the airlock. They had replaced all the Tau Ceti's bots (Brandis and Eight-eight-six had handled the details as Hart still refused to talk to the Matasoids) but this had drained most of their finances. Now they needed to clean out all the accumulated garbage and sell it off to pay for weapons and other expenses. To Brandis' relief, however, the Weigh Cartel would buy just about anything – even giant concrete hamsters – at a decent price. What they couldn't sell on, the Matasoid traders would break down into it's component parts and re-use.
Of course, Hart's issue with the Matasoids was making the whole process more difficult. Brandis found herself doing most of the work. In fact... Brandis looked around the cargo bay, but the Glitch was nowhere in sight.
“Eight-eight-six, where's Hart gone off to?” she asked.
||WOULD THAT BE VIOLATING IT'S PRIVACY?|| the AI asked. Eight-eight-six had been keen to establish proper boundaries with his new crew.
“Guess that depends on what he's doin!” Brandis exclaimed, feeling annoyed “Never mind”. She sighed and keyed a quick note into her clipboard, telling the Matasoids on the other side of the airlock she was going to take a break. Then she headed off through the corridors towards the kitchen. It was much easier to get there now that much of the clutter was gone.
Halfway there she heard a noise through an open door. It could have been one of the maintenance bots (Brandis has programmed one specially to find all the sarsparella cans – empty or full – and throw them out the airlock), but on a whim she entered the room and glanced inside. She found Hart crouched in a corner. He had pulled a panel off the wall and was peering at the circuits inside it and poking at the wires furtively.
“Watcha doin?”
Hart jumped and whirled on her, pulling out his guns in a smooth practised move.
“Woah! Hold yer pistons!” Brandis held her hands in front of her in alarm.
“Oh, it's just you.” Hart whispered, holstering his pistol and returning to the panel.
“Something broken?” Brandis tried to peer over his shoulder, trying to ignore the Glitches strange behaviour.
“Something like that.” Hart poked at another wire. “But try to be a bit quieter. I don't want it to overhear.”
Brandis frowned. “Who?”
“The ship!” Hart hissed. “I'm trying to figure out how they did it, before we even got to the station. I disabled the camera in this room, but be quiet. Sound vibrations travel a long way.”
None of this made any sense to Brandis. She scratched her chin a moment, then gave up. “Hart, I got no idea what yer goin' on about.”
Hart turned towards her again, and a strange, bright glint in his LEDs made her step back.
“You really don't get it do you.” he pointed to a display he held in his hand.”It's obvious! The Matasoids have infiltrated our ship AI – probably when we were fired on after that first jump. But did they just infect the code? or did they fire some sort of infiltration bot...” He trailed off again, muttering to himself as he flipped through the data on his device.
Brandis gave him a look of strained patience. “Or,” she said slowly, “It's just like Eight-eight-six said and the AI has been there all along, 'xcept Vernier had broken it's communication circuits. Prolly 'cos it tried to give him good advice. It explains a lot, Hart.”
Her friend shook his head. “No no, it has to be the Matasoids. They're sneaky. This is just the kind of thing that they'd do. I don't know why you can't see that.” He looked up at Brandis suddenly. “Unless you're working with them.”
“Whaaa? Are you cr... Wait, listen Hart. This has been a tough few months, but we're safe for now. I've never heard o' a Matasoid doin' anything bad to a customer. The Void Markets are full o' sneaky buggers an' they'd see through them in a nanosecond if they tried...”
She drew back as Hart jumped up suddenly. “You can believe that if you want to.” He said, packing away his tools, “But I'm not going to stay here and wait for them to gank me in my sleep.”
“Where are you going!” Brandis cried after him as he strode off down the corridor.
“Back to Hulltown.” Hart called behind him. “And if you have any sense you'll leave this deathtrap too!”

 

Hmm, I'm trying to decide whether this bodes poorly for Hart or Brandis. Probably Hart, because I like 886.

 

CHAPTER THIRTYSIX

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Brandis looked up from the cargo manifest and frowned. She was finding it hard to concentrate. After Hart's outburst she had been too stunned to follow him. Was there any possibility it was true? Had the Matasoids altered the ship AI for some reason of their own? But no – she shook her head to clear the thought. If they had actually infiltrated the ship AI, why in name of knowledge would they have it talk to them? If the ship AI hadn't announced itself, they would never have known that Eight-eight-six was any different to any other AI, and they could have just done whatever they wanted to do without anyone knowing. And besides- the Matasoids were famed for their neutrality. Why would they plot against the crew of the Tau Ceti? It made no sense. No – all this seemed to lead back to Hart's problem with the Matasoids. She had to try to figure out what was going on.

But when she attempted to find Hart, Eight-eight-six reported that he had, as promised, left the ship, and he appeared to have taken all his personal items with him, as well as half the pixels in the ships' account. It appeared he really did plan to leave the ship for good. If she was going to find him before he left Hulltown she was going to have to make her investigation quick.

Brandis toyed with the idea of...just letting him go. Hart obviously wasn't enjoying life on the Tau Ceti anymore. But she remembered how empty her life had been aboard the Drifter before Hart had joined her. It just didn't seem right for them to leave on these terms, without even saying a proper goodbye. There was some misunderstanding behind all of this, she was sure.

Brandis dropped the cargo manifest that she had been trying to read, and called Wrencharm up on the console. Wrencharm's 'face' appeared on the screen, surrounded by stars. He was floating with the other Matasoids outside the Tau Ceti, sorting the material they had ejected from the cargo bay.

|Greetings Brandis| The matasoid's LEDs flickered a brief smile. |Is there a problem with the recycling process?|

The ape shook her head. “Naaaah, that's goin' fine. What I wanna discuss is of a … errr... more delicate nature...” She trailed off, trying to think of the best way to phrase her question.

The Matasoid nodded at her, seeming to realise her situation straight away. |Do not fear offense. We are aware of the issue. It relates to your companion and his attitude towards the Weigh Cartel?|

Brandis nodded, but couldn't think of anything to say.

|Yes, we saw your companion leave the ship and have observed his reaction to our kind. It is not unusual for some Glitch to react this way.|

“It isn't? But why's he got such a rod up his cogs about you guys?”

The Matasoid gave a sigh, and gestured to the screen build into his chest. “It relates to our ancestry.”
The name of Wrencharm's company – the “Weight Cartel” - appeared on the screen, and as Brandis watched the letters began to re-arrange themselves.

Brandis' eyes widen as they settled into a new position.

Weight Cartel now read “We are Glitch”.

Brandis recalled the spider-like form of the Matasoid. With his many attachments and lack of what would normally be called a 'face', Wrencharm seemed to have more in common with the kitchen bot than the humanoid Glitch.

Wrencharm explained that the Matasoids were an offshoot of the free Glitch, who decided long ago to forswear their humanoid forms and alter themselves as they wanted. As most other Glitch were taught from a young age that the humanoid form was the only 'proper' form, and that altering themselves was a perversion, many Glitch who knew of their origins found the idea very hard to accept.

|That is why we hide our origins in silly word games.| The Matasoid explained. |We cannot claim it openly without causing trouble. Your friend was only reacting like many of his kind – with suspicion and disgust.|

Brandis sighed “Yeah, but it's still awful... species-ist, isn't it? I thought better of him.”

Wrencharm shrugged three of his attachments. |Your friend would have left his whole life behind him when he left his world. Perhaps this was one demand too many.|

“Maybe. An' if that's tha case, I gotta help him. When yer havin' a tough time yer supposed to talk to yer friends. Runnin' off don't help at all.”

Wrencharm merely shrugged again, as if to say this wasn't his decision, and Brandis said goodbye and brought up a map of Hulltown. Hart only knew a few places in the Void Markets – maybe it would be easier finding him than she had first thought.
She hoped so, or she might never see him again.



Brandis' feet ached as she left her fourteenth Glitch tavern. She had checked almost all of them now, but there had been no sign of her companion. She sighed. She had had high hopes of the 'Wee Gilt Arch', but as soon as she looked in the door she had noticed that the patrons were mostly Matasoids and had turned back. As she hobbled back down the concourse, a voice rose out of the static-filled conversation behind her.

“And the hooves of his steed clattered and clanged
as he charged down into the fight,
His armour was beat, battered and banged,
But he fought on with all of his might.

Shield on his arm and hammer in hand,
He dodged to the left and the right,
The nobelest templar in all of the lands,
The unconquerable Rusty Knight.”

Brandis had never heard 'The Lay of the Rusty Knight' sung before, but she fancied she had heard Hart humming it as he worked. And though the singer's voice was slurred and half-drowned out by the shouting and whistling of the other patrons... she turned and re-entered the tavern.

The “Wee Gilt Arch” was low-ceilinged and absolutely packed. She edged past staggering metal bodies, and ducked a darts game, and tried not to run into anyone carrying the huge pints of the house special, Erg Witch Ale, as she made her way towards the singer.

At last she rounded a wooden pillar and ducked an impractically low chandelier and made her way towards a group of drinkers tightly clustered around the singer.

“... a paladin purest in all of the lands,
The impenetrable Rusty Kn... BRANDIS!”

A familiar figure detached itself from a tangle of robot arms and pinchers.

“Hey. HEY! Brandis! You gotta -hic- meet my friendsh here.”

Hart staggered towards her, gesturing back towards the tangle of drunken Glitch behind her. Brandis raised an eyebrow when she noticed that most of them were Matasoids.

“Brand my man.. I mean lady... I mean... here!” Hart thrust a pint of Erg Witch Ale at her. “Thisss stuff is good. You gotta -hic- try it... an then... an then where wash I up to?” He turned back towards the group.

“Iss the bit with the Rusty Knight innit.” one volunteered.

“Oh yeah! Thass it!” He leaned conspiratorial towards Brandis. “Thass Flywheel. Hish my fren. An that ish Wirebrass, Springdrill an Clamphand. Thess my frens. Ahem!” Hart posed nobly (or it would have been if not for the ale spilt down his white enamel) and began to sing another verse, as Brandis shook her head in wonder.

 

ETA for next chapter ?

 

Really enjoying this story, keep up the good work!

 

Thanks guys, I appreciate it! - next chapter coming up in the next couple of days

 

CHAPTER THIRTYSEVEN

________________________________

Brandis walked into the darkened kitchen and stumbled into a chair.
“By the ape – Lights!”
The dim lights flickered into a blinding glare, shining off the chrome appliances.
“Urrrrghhhh....” Hart slumped further over the table and covered his occulars with his hands. “Too bright. Turn down. Lights...” The mumbled words trailed off into groans.
Brandis smiled brightly. “That Glitch ale sure packs a punch, don't it?”
Hart waved a hand at her weakly. “You. Didn't drink as much. Can't talk.” The hand dropped back to the table.
Brandis laughed. “You oughtta spend more time studyin' the med bay rather than the weaponry. There's shots for that kinda hangover, ya know.”
Hart peeped over his arm. “Errris?”
She nodded. “So stumble off and get yerself fixed up. For all tha' ale did ya a world o' good, we still have work ta do.”
Hart rose, blinking blearily, and staggered out the door, only bouncing off the door-frame once. Brandis grinned as she watched him go.
She had no idea how seriously Hart had taken his role as her protector, but seeing him drunk off his cogs in that inn, she'd realised that he'd never really had a chance to let loose. Even back at Captain Vernis' home he'd kept half an eye open for any threat, and never allowed himself to get so much as tipsy (even if he'd put away enough roast dinners to feed a family of seven).
That and the strain of leaving his whole society behind – he had hid it well behind that while enamel and glowing LEDs but some strain must have been growing and sooner or later something was going to give. To think he'd nearly left forever.
She shook her head. Things could have been very different.

Hart returned half an hour later, looking much more awake and smelling slightly of WD-40.
He edged into the kitchen sheepishly, where Brandis was looking over some lists on the monitor.
“Err.”
Brandis held up a finger. “All I wanna know is, do ya still think Eight-eight-six is a Matasoid plot...?”
Hart sat down at the table and scratched his head, embarrassed. “Of course not.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Sorry.”
||APOLOGY ACCEPTED, GLITCH. YOUR THEORIES WERE ALMOST PLAUSIBLE||
Brandis continued “An do ya think tha Matasoids are out ta get us?”
At this, Hart shook his head vehemently.
“No, I realised that with my augments, the people back home would think me just as freakish as any Matasoid. I'm really not that different to them.”
She raised her eyebrows, impressed. “An how many ales didja take to figure that out?”
Hart grinned. “None, actually. I realised about half an hour after I left the ship. Then it all seemed pretty silly and... I was a bit too embarrassed to come back.”
Brandis tried to stifle a laugh, but it bubbled out anyway. “Bahahahahaha!”
Hart tried to look serious for a moment but soon their were both roaring with laughter and clutching the edge of the table for support.
||HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA||
“Ya know, Eight-eight-six, yer really could tone that voice down a little.”
||SORRY||

When they had both recovered, Brandis pointed to the screen she had been looking at.
“Now yer back on board I thought ya might want to take a look at this again.”
Hart squinted at the lines of text. After a moment he looked up mistily. “The ships guns!”
She nodded. “Yep, while you were off on yer R&R, we got the last bit o' the cargo bay cleared out. All the dross is gone now, only gotta figure out what ta do with the more expensive supplies an' weapons an' the more valuable o' the old Dread Pirate Hunter props. But the stuff we sold off made us plenty to buy some guns.”
Hart scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Fantastic. So I was thinking maybe we should get a plasma gun that has a wide weapon spread, and pair it with a precision laser, as well as stocking up on missiles for the existing launcher... what do you think.”
Brandis just sat back and grinned. “Dunno, Hart. This is your area. “ She pointed at the screen. “This is how much funds we got ta' spend, setting the rest aside for tha fuel an' supplies. You get ta play with tha rest.”
The way Hart's eyes sparkled, it was as if all his Assembly Days' had come at once. Brandis went off to sit back and have a bath and left Hart pawing through the spreadsheets eagerly.
“Eight-eight-six,” Hart said to the ceiling as she left, “How do you feel about being the proud owner of a pair of Thompson Dustreamers?”

 

That was a quite satisfying resolution to that little thread. Well done!

 

Wow, this gets better with every part! I didn't think that was possible
Very good descriptions I have to say. Thanks for posting!

 

*gasp* you don't mean, the story finished?!
NOOOEEEZZZZ!!!

 

Can we by now safely assume that you are either dead or the story is finished ?