The Voyages of the Penelope and the Yydryl

Eloquent and fragile, the Dandelion 'Sugar-Stealer' floated across the small clearing
and alighted in Pandora's hair. The small-white stipules snagged the raven-black strands
and held-on tight as a breeze passed by.

"I seek your muster -my Lady, I need your counsel" the out-of-place hooded figure
whispered to the prone female, but Pandora slept on.
Death waited, the Prince of Patience, the King of Wait... waited and scanned the
enviroment that Pandora loved to inhabit.

High mountains, blue streams and creaking elms surrounded the area, lush meadow
-grass lay underfoot and small violet flowers peeked through the greenness.
Except for around the Box... nothing grew there, The Box invited nothing anymore,
not since Pandora had opened it.

The seven-foot denizen of The Last Place steeled himself and finally, looked down at the
sleeping Goddess. To say Death was enchanted would be an insult to the word. For him,
the dreams of the lost and hopeless were his only food, tears of despair slaked his thirst and
the moans of the anguished -were lilts that he might even tap his foot to, but Pandora was
something more... something far more.

"You gave Mucklebones the flute?" a tinkling voice came and Death swam in the beautiful
sound, Pandora's open-eyes matched that beauty.
Death... the entity that held sway with life and the here-after, the One From Beyond Time,
The Final Word and the brother of the one-day Satan-Of-All -Boy In A Dress, revealed a
sappy smile and nodded. "Yes... I believed the Crone required it" he offered.

The arch of her neck, the way the coal-coloured villus curled from the top of that neck,
the shiny coils that flowed like Night-Vipers about her small ears and those eyes... those
eyes... those eyes had seen what lay in The Box. Pandora stood erect.

"I thank you for aiding my Second" the gorgeous mouth said and Death felt stirrings
that only mortals should endure... he focused on not trembling.
The imaginary sun lay gentle rays on Pandora's brow as she leaned close to the towering
figure. "The flute can stop this being's stupidness and bring harmony back to that reality..."
the ambrosial breath carried the words into the dark void of Death's cowl, the smell of apple
juice and washed babies coiled in his forgotten nostrils.

"... And all will be well again" she finished with a heave of her breasts in a breath and Death
wept inside at the sight. Somewhere faraway, flocks of birds fell from their skies.
"I thought it prudent that the Neo be given all the assistance -due to the importance of
the quest" Death whimpered and dared a second glance at Pandora's milk-white cleavage.

The one that held Death's dusty-husk heart smiled up at the tall figure before her and lay her
cherry blossom-soft hand to where Death's cheek would be.
"You care, that's always been your weakness" she chided and across the void, the Flames
of the Damned roared with a rare heat, Death shook like broomsticks in a haunted closet.

"Now..." Pandora announced and gathered herself in a serious pose, "... this Time-Weave
of the one they call CindyMarrs... can it be undone?" the blue eyes that played with rare
stones from far-flung suns searched Death's shadowy hood for a response.

"I believe it will cause some minor problems, but nothing that will bring further
complications" Death attempted a upbeat tone and enjoyed the relief from once again,
being serious.

A songbird called from the lower branches of an Elm and Pandora turned to listen to
it's melodic strain. The beauty of the tune was lost on Death, for he only knew of dark
sounds.

The thud of a lonely-old man slipping from a moth-eaten armchair and crumpling onto bare
splintered floorboards. The whimper of a frightened child that waited in a shadow-stretched
attic for his drunken parents to return. The low moan of the wind as it slipped through the tall
grass of a Peat Bog and finds a young girl's body staring at the wisps of fleeing clouds above.

Pandora looked back at the towering Holder Of The Gate and smiled again.
"Seek out your Neo and make sure he secures his destiny" she said with a marshmallow
-soft tone, Death moved his head to indicate that he understood and that he was being
dismissed.


Mucklebones suddenly gulped in a huge breath of air and tightened her grip on the glass
instrument in her hand, the red hair lay lank on her head and the blue eyes that once, gave
off the feeling of wonder -now snapped open and showed the old Crone of before.

"Reet... yer' friggin' sots... it's time to pay the FerryMan" she hissed and yanked back the
blanket.

Silo rounded the next bend to see a Harry in the hallway, Chumley dismounting, and carpet (now a blinding fuschia) managing the controls.

She sped up. "Chumley--....." but the airlock whooshed shut before she got there. She looked at Carpet and winced. "Good Jenovah how many batteries does it take to run THAT color, Carpet?? Turn it down a notch, can you?"

Carpet's alarming hue faded to one slim saturation less. "Nice to see you, too, old friend. Good enough?"

Silo sighed. "Sorry. Carpet, I'm very glad to see you."

Carpet lowered the saturation again in reward for her more civil greeting. "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome. Listen, we need to talk, Silo. Not at the moment, but..." He paused. There, now his burdens had been offloaded and he could not be held solely responsible if any plans failed.

"Of course we do. Later. Now what's going on in there? Adam and--"

Carpet interrupted her.
"--Dag and Ernie and Chumley, yeah, they're all in there. Beyond that, you got me."

*********************************

Inside the Recovery Bay Chumley, like a little kid horrified but fascinated at the same time was poking a tentacle at a bit of Bransom's remains, with a twisted look of disgust and delight on his face. He paled a bit.

"Dat like roadkill!" he said, turning to Ernie and Dag.

Ernie just nodded in agreement and pulled another cigar out of his pocket.

Dag shouted "What in bloody tarnation is ROADKILL?"

Ernie and Dag looked at one another as though it was futile to attempt. Dag could see they were both contemplating, in their unique ways, of how to get it across...and finally Ernie said "A'ight. You gotta plow, say, movin' snow. An' a stupid cat run right out in front the blade, an' its tail gets the chop cuz the blade 'n' the tail can't BOTH be a-touchin' that there snow...yeah, and so seein's the plow's the tougher the tail is...ya'know, roadkilt."

Chumley's eyes went wide on his stalks and his tentacle covered his mouth. He gasped, "Oh noooo, Squatch tail got-- you mean..." He drew his tentacle across the base of one of eye stalks and let the stalk topple like a felled tree."

Ernie nodded somberly. "Stupid cat."

Dag just wagged her head and said, "Back on the task at hand, fellas, what do we do now?"

Ship piped up then. "Dag, there's a situation in the center which needs some large and violent attention."

Dag snapped to attention. "Yes, Ship, how can I help?"

"It will require a team, Dag."

The three exchanged quick and silent glances of "all in", and started for the door. It had already whooshed open and Dag was nearly across the threshold when suddenly she ran back in, slammed open the top of Adam's chamber, and grabbed the Splitter from under his shirt. "Love you," she whispered, and ran out behind the others.

The door whooshed shut behind her, and no one but Ship knew Adam smiled or heard him mutter, "Good woman, that." He raised his arm and pulled the lid back down over his healing body, and began to chuckle. "Roadkill." He'd have to remember that one.

The sound of metal being dragged through brass shell-casings brought both Nenothtu
and Boy In A Dress' gaze back to the stone steps that they had just assaulted.
Light Flayers lay either side of the stairs and the dull -granite colour seemed glaucous
from the slick pools of the Guards' blood. Tibbs' head rose slowly from the lower part
of the Tower and the grunts from the old Vithian, indicated he was bringing something
heavy.

"Ugh... I believe this is yours" the small Time-traveller said and with a final pull, brought
The Caliburn Sword into the Throne Room Foyer. Nenothtu took it easily from the dwarf's
grasp and lifted it into the air. "Ah really don't need this... my pistol should hold their
attention" he drawled and turning his eyes from the wickedly-shining blade, he sought
a reply from Tibbs.

"You have to..." Tibbs panted and wiped his robe-sleeve across his brow, "... you have to
use it, it's in the book" he said with a sigh and slumped against the cool-blue smooth walls.

"You okay, fella?" Neno asked and passing the Claymore to BIAD, he hunkered down in front
of Tibbs.
"Don't worry about me..." Tibbs wheezed with a kind smile "... you're doing great works
here, my son... finish the game" and patted the Vandal on the broad shoulder.

Nenothtu stood up and rubbed at a twinge in his thigh, the old man looked plum-tuckered
out -Neno thought and yet, he has sand and knew he would follow the tall GunMan into Hell
-if he had to.

"Take a few moment's Old-Timer" Neno said with a kindly lop-sided grin and swung to look
at Boy In A Dress.
"Well -my odd-lookin' friend... are yer' ready to go to the dance?" he hissed and jerked the
handgun from it's holster. BIAD grinned and tossed the sword back -to be caught one-handed
by Neno.

Tibbs blew a small breath and looked back at the carnage on the stairs, the smoking Mini-gun
looked as exhausted as the old man felt. In the quiet moments that his friends took to
gather themselves, he muttered a small prayer from his childhood and peered at a spent
shell-casing.

The reflection on it's surface showed a warped Nenothtu and Boy In A Dress stood side-by-
side and the Vithian 'umphed' with an irony. "Warped-indeed" he said quietly to nobody
and pulled his robes closer.

High-heels clicked and worn-heeled cowboy boots tapped towards the Throne Room door
as the pair entered The Dark Lord's lair.

Dag and the rest of the party piled onto the Harry, with Chumley at the controls. Silo and Dag (predictably) sat together in the cramped back "seat" (the vehicle was a 2+2, not a four-seater) and were forced to hold the arsenal on their laps. Dag had slid the Splitter into her belt, though she checked it twice to make sure it was secure. The craft moved, but rather lethargically for a state-of-the-art piece of machinery.

"Step on it, Chumley!" said Dag with a roll of the eyes. Aside she said to Silo "Is that all this thing can do?"

Silo turned to her and said, "It's more load than recommended."

Ernie, hearing the females speak, craned his neck partway round to hear better. "Y'all ladies got 'nuff room, thar? Cuz I kin walk ..."

Suddenly Dag's head whipped back. One hand flew to her right ear, the other to where the Splitter lay against her lowest rib. Ammo clattered to the floorboard but was drowned out by her scream of pain.

"Dag! What is it?" Silo yelled into her uncovered ear, but Dag made no response. Her eyes had gone wider than anyone had ever seen, and even after her breath was gone, her mouth stayed open in the gesture of a scream.

Silo tried to wrench Dag's hand off of her rib to see what the problem was, but received a jolt of electricity for her effort.
"Owww!" Her hand went numb.

**********
Dag saw only blood....lots of blood...and stone stairs.......and heard nothing but the rasping of steel on stone and the clinking of spent shells. Her ribs felt as though they had contracted, merged, and then vaporized inside her suit, rendering her nearly catatonic. She did not see Silo looking into her glittering eyes, though they were wide open. Tears welled up and slid down her cheeks. Her face went from pale to a shade of washed out green, and sweat broke out on her face and throat.

***************
"What in the flyin'----!??!!!" Ernie stopped himself before he leaped out of the Harry like a golfer heading for the 18th hole whose cigar ash has landed in his lap. "Chumley, stop the damned bus!" he yelled as the Harry picked up speed. But they had moved round the next bend, so he didn't see Dag slip into unconsciousness.

The large steel-shod double doors opened into an antechamber, with another, equally large pair of steel shod double doors at the other end of it. The pair on the near end of the antechamber had a barred gratework opening answering the function of a window, apparently so those within could observe what was going on without.

Well, windows work in both directions. Nenothtu eased up to the door and peered through the corner of the window, reconnoitering what lay ahead. He saw the large doors in the other end of the antechamber, the windows on those closed off with heavy shutters. Between the two doors was a phalanx of guards, arranged in two lines, one on either side of the antechamber like a gauntlet line of the ancient North American Indians. Eyeballing the scene long enough to fix their locations, neno pulled back from the window.

"Guards" he said to BIAD. "Lot's of 'em. Just when I run outta ammo for the minigun, too. Ain't that my kinda luck? Anyhow, the pistol won't be enough for all of 'em - too much noise might warn the folks on the other side of the yon doors. I'll have to use this gawkward slip of steel, I reckon. Looks like Tibbs was right agin when he said 'it's in the book.' " Neno harrumphed and said "I'd a ruther waited fer the movie."

BIAD replied drily "I believe the noise of that bullet machine probably warned them a good while ago." His head was swiveling slowly, as if watching an insect in flight that no one else could see. Neno ignored that quirk - he'd long gotten used to those idiosyncrasies from BIAD.

Nenothtu holstered the pistol and hefted and tightened his grip on the Caliburn sword. "Wal iffen that's the case, we may as well git on with it then. Some general or other a long time ago said 'a half-assed plan executed violently, right NOW, is better than a perfect plan, executed half-assed next week'. We're already here, so let's see about fillin' out that dance card" and he kicked the double doors open and entered the fray, without telling the guards within beforehand that there even WAS a fray to be entered.

The Caliburn defined the phrase "living steel". She swooped with what appeared to be a mind of her own in long, circular graceful arcs, the end of each circle seeming to feed right into the beginning of the next, at a different angle. The great size of the sword made it appear to be moving deceptively slowly, but it was inexorable, and as if by planning there was always another surprised looking meat puppet somewhere in the arc.

Neno for his part of the waltz twirled and pirouetted like a ballet dancing dervish, moving along the lines to the next before the last had hit the ground. The net effect of the combination would have looked much like a translucent ball of shimmering steel had the Caliburn been a smaller sword. As it was, it appeared more like a cybernetic mowing machine, the marriage of man and steel that traveled inexorably onward, hewing down all in it's path as if they were only so much grass.

The guards tried, they really did. the problem was that they were apparently more for show than actual guarding, and the antechamber was too narrow for them to effective get on a transverse line to respond. They could only move forward two or three at a time, and all were getting in the way of each other in a tangle of limbs in their effort to bring a response to bear. The Caliburn solved the tangled limb problem in much the same way as Alexander's sword had solved the Gordian Knot - she cut through them without ceremony, and left the parts laying where they fell.

Neno had to keep moving forward. It was difficult enough as it was not to trip over the bodies and parts of bodies. Had he allowed them to pile up around him by standing still, he'd not be able to keep to his feet in the squishy, rolling chunks and mire.

In a matter of about two minutes, nenothtu had cleared the antechamber of living things. He was damned glad of it. Weary and tired after a mere two minutes of extreme exertion, he staggered and stumbled, gulping the fetid air for breath at the other end of the lines. "Kali's crusty rib bumpers!" he gasped "I'm too old fer this kinda workout!"

BIAD came forward in the wake of the destruction, still following his invisible insect, and now trying to catch is as he skipped along among the body parts. "You don't know what old is... yet, friend. I have it on good authority that you will eventually know that all too well, though."

Nenothtu snorted and delivered a lopsided grin. "I got muh doubts about that. I've been aimed at dyin' since the day I started livin'. Been on borrowed time since the day I was borned. Ain't nothin' ever guaranteed, an' it's jest a matter of time, that's all."

BIAD never stopped following and trying to catch the invisible insect as he spoke. "That's not what I've heard, but no matter. The sage said 'Only through a lack of fear of Death can one hope to gain life, and fulfill his station therein' ".

neno looked bemused at BIAD. "The sage said whut? How long you been talking to garden herbs?"

~*~ Wild Times ~*~

‘Chumley stop!’ Silo yelled for the third time when Erie raised his gun. She wasn’t sure if he was going to shoot the Regalian or into the air but she didn’t want to take a chance. Reaching over the unconscious Dag she pushed the barrel of his long gun away and shook her head as the Harry came to a slow stop.

‘Whad’ya do to her?’ Ernie asked standing beside the Harry peering down at the fallen girl. Ernie’s eyes roamed her figure checking for injuries. Or so Silo hoped. CindyMar‘s handyman had clearly taken a shine to Dag.

‘More like what’d she do to me.’ Silo groused and shook the numbness from her hand. ‘Not her though, it was that bloody Splitter that bit me. It shocked me when I tried to take it from Dag. What it did to her I’ve no idea.’ Silo pat Dag lightly on the cheek as she talked. Dag‘s inner eyelids fluttered open but obviously the girl was still dazed.

Ernie’s scowl would have made Muckles blush. ‘Why that dem thing. Get it off a her!’ Pushing Silo out of the way Ernie’s hand dove down the front of Dags shirt and fumbled around a moment before he pulled the Splitter back. Silo could see it squirming in his hand.

‘It didn’t...’ Silo - all eyes couldn’t believe he’d touched the thing with no ill effect. Her fingers were still numb.

‘Foolish thing wouldn’t dare try any a that sneaky stuff with me -now would ya!’ Ernie roared directly at the Splitter cupped in one hand before shoving it in his overalls pocket.

‘Tell yer big friend here to get this lil’lady outta here and back ter Ship propper.’ One beetled brow went high, the other low over his pop-eye. ‘As fer you missy, you and me‘s stayin‘ right here. We got work ta do.’ Ernie turned his full stink-eye stare on Silo, a look she wouldn’t argue with. Plus, his common sense mirrored her own.

‘Chumley he’s right. Take Dag back to the Recovery Bay. Ernie and I can go on alone.’ Silo turned Dag so she was fully stretched out on the back of the Harry. Whispering in her ear she told Dag she’d feel better soon and Chumley would help her. Dag struggled to say something and clutched at her chest holding fast to Silo’s hand. Silo had to pry her grip away to free herself. For a moment she felt bad. She should go with her friend she thought, but than gain Chumley would get her to the Recovery Bay just as quickly with or without her.

As Chumley expertly turned the Harry around in the direction where they’d come from Silo raised her hand to give him pause.

‘After Dag’s settled in the Recovery Bay please manually program the coordinates from the Sprint’s memory into Ship. Without a navigator Ship’ll need your help. And tell her we need to get back to the others as fast as possible...If she’s up for it that is.’ Silo knew Ship was better, but how much better she had no idea but the knot in her gut told her they needed to get moving. Chumley looked crestfallen but he’d do as he was asked. There were no commanders on the Yydryl but the crew knew when to do what was needed doing. Clearly he wanted to stay and look for Deson but his worry about his little friend overrode his own desires.

‘Dag ok, den I come right back?’ He nodded his head enthusiastically like the motion was catchy and Silo’d pick it up too.

‘Yep.‘ Silo smiled. ‘Come back and get us when you’re through. We’ll meet you at the ruins.‘ Silo remembered the area well. It was one of Deson’s favorite haunts and not so far into the Center they couldn’t reach it on foot if they didn’t lag along.

‘Oh and Chumley...‘ Silo spoke as she and Ernie were filling their hands with supplies, ammo and side arms. Ernie took the flame thrower. Silo saw Chumley wince. ‘Chumley listen up. You’re going to have to cover for Deson. We don’t know what to expect when we get back there.’ Silo clearly meant the Tower. ’We better go back loaded. Arm the Yydryl with anything and everything you think we’ll need to get Neno and BIAD outt’a there.’ Chumley looked so pleased he was about to pop. Free reign of Deson’s ‘toys’ was a dream come true.

Silo gave Dag’s cheek a final caress and wished her well. Ernie looked as if he wanted to but his hands were full of flamethrower.

‘You get right ta mendin’ there lil’ Lady.‘ He whispered over her and shot Chumley a glare that boded ill if anything happened to the girl. Chumley nodded an affirmative to Ernie then shared a customary high-five with Silo before he was off - driving noticeably slower than Silo would have thought over the grassy terrain. Ernie must really have the big guy scared she thought. Looking back at Ernie expertly holding the flamethrower while giving her that glare again Silo swallowed and shot her chin. She wasn’t so sure she wasn’t a little terrified of the handyman herself.

Chumley waited until he was out of Ernie's view to speed up the Harry. Not to a reckless speed, but out of simple indignation and defiance, and self-respect.

"He dare be all dat!?" He muttered. "He dare tell me how care for Dag? What do next? I sick of dat. Dat man, he new, he only brand new, and he act like bugger-all big man."

Chumley was frowning and he banged one tentacle on the altitude control lever. The Harry gave a little hop.
Chumley sucked in his breath with alarm. Glancing at Dag to make sure he hadn't spilled or disrupted her, he was relieved. She was still there, though still unconscious.

"Chumley need calm down. Use Security Chief mode, not hims own feeling mode." He mimicked Ship's calm voice. "'Chumley ship's head of Security. Chumley now Armor, too'. But big man roadkiller he be all, 'You do dis, you do dat. You not screw up. You answer to me.' I not doing dat! I not answer to him, he new, and now he get flame-thrower and I just driver. Dat not right." He wagged his head. "And Dag, she not think he such great shakes." He laughed out loud. "Funny when Dag be all, 'Look, new guy. I love Adam.' And he be like, 'well, Adam sick zombie.' And she be all, 'no, you don't know. You just good at killstuff and chop off cattail. Adam do more dan just killstuff and he don't hurt Squatch tail.' And he be all, 'well, liddle lady, I not zombie and I save ass of you and your zombie-man.' And she be all 'well, go find more things to roadkill, I not want talk to you more.' And he be all, 'well who you think sent your fanny back to Recovery Bay when you got Splittered, missy? Adam?' And she be all, 'Zip it , you new guy.' But new guy be all,'Listen, you—'.

The Harry had reached the main doors to the Ship proper, and Chumley put it to idle while they waited for clearance to re-enter. The noise was deafening. "Ship need oil-can," Chumley said with satisfaction, and his flaccid chest puffed out just a bit with pride. He knew who he was. He knew what he knew. He smiled.

The doors opened and he started forward, faster than before, but still at a controlled speed.

Then he continued: "But she hold her pretty hand up to his goggly eye and she be all, 'I say zip it, and you help us, yup, but so did Mucklebones, and she not in charge. You help us, but you not in charge. Chumley in charge. You don't even know who Mucklebones is! But you want be in charge. We tell YOU when you in charge, got it?'"

Chumley paused and increased the Harry's speed just half a notch more and heard a chuckle beside him.
He looked at Dag. She was smiling and sitting up."Is that what I would be all, Chumley?" she winked.

"Haaahh, Dag, you awake!" he said. "Dag, we go back to—"

"No," she shook her head. "I don't need Recovery Bay. We go straight to Deson's workshop, and then to the Sprint."

Chumley grinned wide at her override of Ernie's orders. "You don't worry, Chumley, we know how capable you are. And I know where Desom stored extra flame-throwers. Now step on it, I'm fine, and I know what we need to do."

Chumley sighed in overwhelming relief, and turned the Harry away from Recovery Bay and straight for the Armory.

"Hello Darling" came the small voice and Dag's eyes snapped open to a star-strewn
sky. A warm breeze swept across her prone body and as the memories of what she
was about to do and where she was supposed to be -also swept over her, she sat up
at once.

She was on a hill, a grass-covered hill on a warm evening and the view was breathtaking.
Below lay a vast array of a eldritch-green mesh of straight lines and sprinkled among these
grid-like rays, rotating spheres of different colours floated. Dag squinted her eyes and
enjoyed the light-show before her.

The thrumming lines carried on as far as the horizon and in every square of the grid, a planet
resided like old coins in a collector's box.

Dag looked over her shoulder to where the voice came from and there, with a constellation
that twinkled with marvelous colours above his head -was The Splitter.
"You know that 'Darling' is your full-name" the small being said and Dag leaned closer
to see what this stranger looked like. The Splitter was small elfin-like biped and there was
enough starlight to show that the being's skin was a dark-grey colour.

The large head held a mop of shoulder-length hair that seemed be of thick strands and the
uneven fringe stopped just above the large silver-shining eyes.
The Splitter sat on a small stone milestone with his long-fingered hands resting on his knees,
Dag saw all this and yet, those large glittering eyes called her attention.

"It's true... a long time ago, you were known as Darling" he reiterated and Dag saw a thin
-lipped mouth and narrow chin, the charcoal-like hue was also the colour of those lips.
"Where am I?" Dag said and turned her body and twisted her legs around to face the small
person, it all seemed sureal -she thought, but she also believed it was important.

"Ah... where indeed..." said The Splitter amiably "... and of course When" and stood to a
hieght of around four-feet.
"This is the Crossroads of Time, below us are the planets of yours and all dimensions, the
Crossroads of Time is the place where the Time-Weave has been activated" the small being
went on, he stepped closer to the wary girl with his hands showing he meant no harm.

"CindyMarrs is far-more than you're aware of, the Lady must have used 'Big Ju-ju to perform
such an act" The Splitter giggled and Dag showed wide eyes at the strange jest.
"But I'm supposed to be helping Nenothtu and Boy In A Dress stop The Dark Lo..." Dag began
to explain, but The Splitter placed a long finger to his lips and slowly shook his head.

"I know, I know..." he said softly "... and you will assist them. But first, I need your help with
this matter" The smooth-skinned naked Splitter hunkered down infront of Dag and looked
deep into the blonde-haired girl's face.
"The one you call Nenothtu needs to place the Glass Flute into the small rip that this 'Dark
Lord'..." The Splitter pulled one side of his mouth to show a sardonic smile "... has dabbled
with. The Flute will do the rest" he said and sighed.
Dag peered closer into the silver-Dollar eyes and saw The Yydryl slipping through the cold
void of space and gasped quietly at the sight.

"You will do this for me?" The Splitter asked nicely and stood up again, he held out a hand to
help Dag to her feet. With a slight stagger, she stood with him and above him.
(Continued below)

"You know -Dag, Tibbs caught me once and I vowed it would never happen again... it's a
game that has gone on for millenia-stacked on-millenia, He's very good at the game" The
Splitter said casually "I have tried to make contact with the being known as Boy In A Dress,
but he seems to be... er, different" he finished and revealing a furrowed brow of confusion,
he began leading Dag towards the chipped milestone at the apex of the hill.

"This is beautiful" Dag said and let the warm breeze wash over her as she viewed the scenery
all around, the stars above slowly circled as she watched.
The Splitter smiled and broke the puzzled look "yes... it is and let us together -keep it that
way" he whispered and squeezed the young girl's hand in affection.

Dag breathed in deeply and pondered on the request from this Time-Mechanic, then a
question slipped into her mind. "Why didn't you just contact Tibbs about the Flute?" she said
and gently untangled her fingers from his.

"Oh no, I couldn't do that... it would ruin the game" The Splitter said lightly and placed his
hands behind his back. Dag glared at the smaller being as she realised this elf-like creature
was presumably involved in some prank, her anger rose and was about to berate this so-
called Splitter when the lights went out and total darkness took hold.

Then she was back in the 'now' and sitting up, Chumley was gawking at her with his green
stalk-eyes."Haaahh, Dag, you awake!" he said. "Dag, we go back to—"
Dag shook her head and said "No... I don't need Recovery Bay. We go straight to Deson's
workshop, and then to the Sprint."

The noisy Harry trundled towards the Workshop and Dag wondered if she would have the
time to accomplish The Splitter's request.

~*~ Skinny & Squibs 2 ~*~

‘Skinny, you in there ol‘mop?’ The little droid Squibs, his squat body set atop antique rollers and shaped like an overgrown garbage can continued pushing Silo’s room buzzer. When Skinny didn’t answer the red sensor atop Squibs head rotated round and round in agitation.

‘Skinny, I know your’re in there. You’re the talk a the Yydryl you are. We all knows you’re takin’ care of that witch now open up.’ Squib’s motor hummed with distress. ’Come on mate, you’re not so ‘igh and mighty’ you’ll keep your ol’ friend Squibs sittin’ out here in the ‘all now will ya?’

The door to Silo’s quarters parted sliding open into the wall and staying open. Squibs decided in that moment he didn’t want to go in. Not really, but, he rolled forward calling for his friend. Skinny didn’t answer. Squibs need to leave swiveled him towards the open door before he swiveled right back again. Anxiously Squib followed his sensors farther into the room.

‘Skinny?’ Squibs rolled through Silo’s apartment slowly coming to a stop only when he found a faint trace of his friend on the floor near the bed. Yes, he was there, his form, slumped over like a broken doll, his mouth open, something sticking from his voice hole but Skinny was inoperable. Skinny was no more.

‘Skinny. What are you after ol’ bot.’ Squib circled around his friend unable to make him rise.

‘You!’ Shrieked the thing from the middle of the bed startling Squib so badly he sprung oil, his revolving light stopping in it’s own trace.

‘Mam?’ Squib responded. He had no eyes to cry, no lips to quiver, he had nothing but the knowledge something was very very wrong and that surety made him quake.

‘You here to pick up the trasssshhhhhh?’ She crooned sickly. ’So, pick it up! Pick it up! Get rid of that thing!’ Muckles howled her voice set apart from her slender arms, dove pale throat, limpid blue eyes narrowed but still alluring. Her charms were lost on Squibs where they’d not been lost on the bio-bot.

‘Poor ol’Skinny. Wha’d you do to ‘im!’ Squibs voice a an echo in himself, it wasn't a question he really wanted answered.

‘He wanted to be a boyyyyy. A boyyyyyo...’ The thing that killed his Skinny sang a sickly tune. ’He wanted to dance and be a boyyyyooooo!” Muckles continued her long slender arms swaying.

‘What’d ya do to Ol’Skinny.’ Squibs repeated not knowing what else to do, what to say.

‘I gave him drink, I gave him food, I gave him love and kisssssssssed his lips...’ Muckles cackled again before falling back into the bed quiet now after her gross outburst.

‘Skinny...what have you done to yourself lad? All for a fairy tale. All for lies!’ Squibs moaned over and over picking the fallen bio-bot up piece by piece, an arm here, Skinny’s chest frame there, his double jointed legs wrapped around themselves like he’d been caught up in a violent jig.

Futilely Squibs tried to tuck wires exploded from joints drenched in wine back into their sockets. A chunk of blood red apple stuck down his vocal pipe wouldn‘t come out. The more Squibs shook Skinny‘s neck and head piece the thicker a stinking black ooze dripped from his ear and eye sensors. The smudge to the side of the U-Man looking face wasn‘t a smudge at all but the black imprint of a pair of lips burned into his face vinyl.

‘Oh lad. It was just a story. You knew that mate...‘ Squibs voice caught, ‘We all knew it was just a make believe, a Bio who became real like a boy of wood and paint come to breathing by a lovely fairy.’ Squibs remembered it was Skinny’ favorite tale, his friend could hear it over and over again and never tire of it.

’But it was just a story lad from Silo’s memory disc. Just a story of a fairies touch, not a kiss from that...that...’ Squibs whispered the name Muckles was known by, that secret name only the bots knew like a cats secret name known only by the mice it hunted. ‘Not a kiss from...her!‘ Squibs rant abruptly ended. There was nothing left to say.

Checking the ground for any parts he might have missed while holding the husk of his fallen mate gently as a ro-bot can Squibs backed out of the room. He’d take his broken friend to Carpet. If Carpet could heal Adam, Carpet could heal Skinny.

~*~ Cont. ~*~

~*~ Skinny & Squibs 2 Cont. ~*~

‘Carpet Sir. You here Sir? I needs to ask your help Sir.’ Squibs spun in slow circles moving up and down Ship’s corridors.

‘What is it is Squibs.’ Carpet answered coldly. He’d heard the little droid calling him for the past hour but let him wait. Carpet’s relationship with Ship’s droids and bots was not an amiable one. They existed together at best. Their superior in every way Carpet did his best to ignore them as much as possible but this one was just not giving up.

‘Carpet Sir, she killed my mate Skinny.’ Squibs fear had his motor running on high, the whine in his voice threatening a bot meltdown.

‘Who killed your friend?’ Carpet now on alert gave over his attention. Skinny was one of Silo’s favorite bio-droids something Carpet had never understood and caused him no little jealousy. Skinny was also the droid who was supposed to be helping Muckles.

‘Her, that...’ Squibs used Muckles secret name. Carpet‘s alarm tripled.

‘Muckles killed Skinny? How?’ Carpet’s fibers quivered not liking the sound of this at all.

‘Mr. Squibs.’ Ship interrupted calling softly not wanting to startle the little droid but her presence set him to quivering anyway.

‘Ohhhhh! It’s Herself Skinny!’ Squibs whispered reverently to his friend the pile of motionless wires and twisted metal in his arms. Squibs sunk to the ground over his rollers the best he could do to show reverence for Ship.

‘Listen to me please. Take...Mr. Skinny to the armory. We’ll get him fixed up. I promise.’ Ship’s voice radiated calm affection, a patient mother to a worried child but still Squibs head sensor flashed an alarming red in agitation.

‘But Mam. I’m sorry Mam, but, can’t you make...’ His light paled then with fear. ‘Can’t you make Carpet help him. We all know what yon rug did for Adam?’ The hope in Squibs plea was pitiful. At that moment even Carpet wished he could do more.

‘I’m sorry Mr. Squibs, no, he can’t. Now do as I say. Take your friend and go...’ Ship’s voice was stern, but still kind.

Squibs rose up on his wheels following orders. ‘Thank you Mam.’ Pure dejection had cancelled out hope. Squibs rolled off down the corridor one of Skinny’s arms dragging forlornly behind him.

‘What did she do Ship?’ Carpet felt a little sickly watching the retreating figure.

‘She promised Mr. Skinny immortality. She promised to make the bio-droid a...boy.’ Ship sighed. If there were any two beings who understood why Skinny had taken the risk, why he‘d believed Muckles? It was the who sharing a poignant silence watching a little tin can droid drag his lifeless ‘friend’ away in his arms.

Ernie and Silo walked along through fields of clover that belied the dangers that were around in zomboid form. "Whar's this cave ye mentioned, ma'am? I hopes it's near. This gawdawful gizmo gits heavier every step I take" Ernie said, referring to the flamethrower he carried at the ready, heavy tanks strapped to his back.

"It's not far now. See the woodline over there? just inside the woodline is an old set of ruins, and the cave is not too far beyond that."

Ernie eyed the distant woodline and shrugged his shoulders to reposition the straps biting into them holding the tanks up. He decided the change the tack of the conversation, just to take his mind off the remaining distance, which might not be "far" to Silo, but looked like a lifetime of walking to him. "Bransom and Dag mentioned that y'all knowed a nenothtu, but it got a wee bit excitin' right about then, an' I never got to hear any more of this character. D'you know 'im too?" he asked.

Silo bristled at the mention of "a" nenothtu - as if there were more than one! She said in reply "Yes, I know THE nenothtu. he's a U-man, a Vandal from Earth that Was."

Her stress on "THE" was not lost on Ernie. he might look and act stupid, but he was anything but. " I didn't mean to offend, ma'am - it's just the way I talk. Iffen you don't mind me askin', what truck have you got with this U-man, an' a VANDAL at that?"

Silo, still peeved, was not mollified. She abruptly and pointedly replied "I can't see how that's any business of yours, Ernie. Just because you're from Earth too doesn't make him your brother or anything. He's from a whole different time and place than you are."

They had topped a rise and started down the other side into some tall grass. Ernie said softly as they went "but it IS, Silo, it IS my business. I knowed him when he was just a pup." A single zombie had risen from a nest in the tall grass and started for them while Ernie was speaking. Without a thought, and not even breaking his speech, Ernie triggered the flamethrower and set the zombie afire like a marshmallow in a campfire as he strode along talking. "It was me edumacated him in the ways of killin' during the Vandalian Clan Wars - well, one round of 'em anyhow."

Silo was astonished - whether at the claim that Ernie was making or the casualness with which he flamed the zombie and kept walking and talking during the event was anyone's guess. "You're from 21st century Earth, Ernie. Neno is from 24th century Earth. you can't have met him." she pronounced with conviction.

Ernie sighed. "I knows I looks old, but I'm a damn sight older than even I look. Been a lot of places, done a lot of things, in a lot of times. Yess'm, I can and do know 'im, an' knew him way back when, back when the most he could sprout on 'is upper lip was fuzz. We both had differnt names back then. I was called 'Ben Griffith', and everyone knew him as 'Freddy Carpenter' ". Ernie didn't miss Silo's smolderingly skeptical look, but he continued with "he was found as a toddler, wanderin' in the woods by Big Frank Carpenter. No one could ever find his parents, an' the Carpenters adopted him and raised him as their own."

Silo had heard bits and pieces of a similar tale from nenothtu in their journey, and began to wonder. "I'm not saying it's the same person, but what else do you know of this boy you knew?"

Ernie kept an eye open for more hidden zombies as they went, but didn't appear overly concerned about them. "Wal, he wuz a wild child, that one. but the Carpenters doted on that boy - they never had none of their own - an' he adored them. As he got older, he took to the woods a lot. it was like the woods were callin' to him or something. I never seen nobody take to the woods like that. The Carpenters, they had a spread next to mine out in the boonies. It had an old dilapidated cabin on it, and that boy, when he was about 13 er 14 years old, just a slip, cleaned that cabin up and fixed it up, and when school wasn't on, he spent more time out there in them boonies than he did at home. He'd come from his little shack an' stay at my place fer hours on end, an' we'd talk an talk an talk. I learned him a lot of stuff that I'd picked up over time" Ernie placed an odd stress on the word 'time', but Silo didn't ask, not wanting to interrupt the tale.

"So anyhow, when he wuz about 17, I reckon it wuz, - mebbe 18 - the Taggart Clan decided to go on the warpath agin' a combine of folks that were tryin' to do good fer the people around there dealin' with the Companies that were comin' in an' buyin' up contracts on the resources in Vandalia. See, the Taggarts, they thought THEY oughtta get all the money out of that. Thought they wuz mighty big folks, them Taggarts did. They got showed, though. they got showed..." Ernie drifted off for a moment before returning to the tale. "So Freddy was out at the shack in the boonies, an' had been there fer a week er so. It wuz time fer him to pack it up an' head back in, and when he did, the Taggarts struck. It was a two pronged attack. One bunch of 'em killed his folks an' burnt the house to the ground, and another bunch of 'em came fer me an' Freddy at the same time.

Silo was fascinated with the tale now, in a morbid sort of way, so she let Ernie continue to weave it uninterrupted.

"They timed it right enough, but missed Freddy. He was in between, travellin', and weren't at either place when they hit. They come fer me because they knowed I was a friend of the Carpenters, and knowed which side of their little war I'd be on. I'd made a name fer myself some time before that in an earlier Clan War - they was fightin' all the time, them different clans wuz, over 'bout the same things, ever since Old America fell an' got reorganized into the American Federal Empire. So anyhow, they sent seven men fer me, figgerin' I was some sort of dangerous desperado er sumpin'. I kilt all seven of 'em, but then thought I ought to be harder target to hit by being' someplaces other than expected, so I skyed on outta my camp an' started movin' around a lot."

"Now Freddy - yer 'nenothtu' - when he got home an seen the smoke an' carnage, well, that boy was inconsolable. he was damned pissed off, too, as ye might imagine. He took out of there before they could pin 'im down, and come back out to my camp. When he got there, all he found wuz dead Taggarts, an' he couldn't find me nowhere, so he figgered the worst. Kinda pushed him over the edge, I reckon. He musta felt like he wuz all alone in the world, and he set about his work all by hisself, never asked nobody else fer no help at all. I dunno what the hell he was thinkin', but he planned it out good. Took them Taggarts out one er two at a time - 'cept fer one case where he took out twelve at a whack through the miracle of modern 'splosives. Took 'im about eight er nine months, I reckon, to git 'em all, but he kilt every man-jack of 'em. Turned inter a pure killin' machine in that few months. When he wuz done with the Taggarts, he lit out of there like his ass wuz on fire an' his head was catchin', an no one never heard from him agin. I figgered he bit off more'n he could chew somewhere along the line an' got hisself kilt, but I reckon I figgered wrong. I shoulda knowed there weren't much he can't chew."

Silo silently digested this information, but Ernie wasn't quite finished with the tale yet. "I read in a future, whar he'd made it long enough ter see the Earth destroyed wif his own eyes. I can only imagine how that hit him. Everything he ever knowed kilt and destroyed in a big fire - agin."

That caught Silo's attention and pulled her out of her reverie. "What do you mean 'a' future? Come to think of it, what do you mean a 'FUTURE'? What's your story, Ernie?"

Ernie paused, then said "Like i said, I'm older than I look, an' I been a lot of somewhars and somewhens, an' done a lot of different things in 'em. How d'ye 'spect I knowed how to deal with that Splitter? Anyhow, we ain't got time to tell my own tale right now - yonder's yer ruins. Don't fret none, though. Thar'll be time later... there's always time, even when there ain't nothin' ELSE. Let's go poke around in there an' make sure there ain't no zombies holed up in 'em, then we'll move on and sterelize the cave."

"Keep yer eyes peeled" Ernie cationed Silo "they could be a hidin' behind anything from here on out 'till they're all dead."

Dag was unusually still as Chumley steered the Harry nearer the Armory. Just as he off-thrust to slow down they saw Squibs' reflection on the wall -- that pulsating red light that always preceded him. This time, though, the light had a strange, forboding tint, almost a ghastly sheen.

"Droid?" Dag ventured to Chumley quietly.

Chumley nodded, "Dat Squibs, but not quite. Dat a strange Squibby light."

Conscious of Ship's security, as ever, Chumley drifted the Harry past the Armory door and nudged it to the opposite wall from the reflection. He would not allow Squibs into the Armory, no how, no way, unless there was a life or death reason, AND Ship said it was okay. Like a protective mother Chumley reached one tentacle across Dag's midsection as the light came closer. Dag smiled to herself. She had become quite fond of Chumley in his unassuming ways and devotion to his job and highest principles.

She watched the light, mesmerized as it slowly grew more vivid, and then heard the faint squeak of wheels under pressure, as though an axle was overburdened. Through her mind flitted an image of the Splitter. She reached to touch her ribs where it had previously injured her. Yup, still tender.

"Shhhh," said Chumley in response to her silent motion. "Very still now, dat good, Dag. I got dis."

She wanted to retort that she WAS being "very still", but that would have negated the statement. The squeaking became louder just as the light became almost blinding, and then Squibs appeared.

"What he-----?" in alarm, Chumley launched himself toward the little droid. "Ohhhhhh!! Squibs! Dat not...."

Squibs' light stopped revolving and dropped from the wall to the floor. "Skinny."

Chumley drew his breath in in horror..."Who did dat? I not think any body could hurt Skinny so bad, ever! Ohh, dat not good, Squibs. Dat why you here now?"

"Ship sent me, Chumley, she said bring him to the Armory." Chumley patted the top of the droid's ... top...and nodded gravely. "You bet," he said. "Course you bring him right in. Dat just fine, Squibs, you have clearance for Armory, you say Chumley said it okay if anyone ask." Behind him, Squibs heard but could not see the doors of the Armory gust open and then close again.

"Chumley, Ship already said it's okay," said Squibs.

But Chumley was oblivious to this gentle rank-pull. He was tenderly supporting the dangling arm and wires that Squibs had been unable to lodge into the rest of the bundle. "Come on, Squibs," said Chumley, "we see if we can splice some of dis....Awwww, Skinny. Who you say do dis?"

Just then Chumley looked over at the Harry. But it was gone. And Dag with it.

"OH Nnoooooo!" Chumley felt the blood drain from his head in one of those "whoosh" rushes of panicky embarrassment tainted with adrenaline. "Oh no. Oh no."

His eyestalks swiveled so fast Squibs' eyecam blew a fuse keeping up and it locked into place rather than allowing the usual 360 rotation.

"Chumley," came Ship's voice.

Chumley jumped to a fighting stance, his tentacles lifted to parry, his legs poised to run. "Huh?"

"Chumley, Security Chief Chumley, report to the Armory immediately," said Ship. If Ship had a means to chuckle to herself, she experienced it at this time, despite the gravity of the entire situation aboard the Yydryl.

Chumley snapped to his full height, eyestalks straight ahead at the wall. "Aye, Ship," he said. He waited for further orders and Squibs waited with him patronizingly (since the eyecam was unable to respond to the eye-roll his circuit board relayed, Chumley took it as proper subordination). After about 20 counts, Squibs' urgency sensors sent raging signals through his core and he began, "Chum---"

But a tentacle lightly snapped his side. He was supposed to be silent and await further instructions.

Ten more counts passed, which to Squibs felt like an eternity.

*************
Inside the Armory, Ship was directing Dag to the various safes and cabinets, and unlocking vaults and lockers so that time would be saved. Dag was racing around grabbing ammo, weapons, side-arms, oil-can, and packing them expertly into the Harry, wasting no space and ensuring that nothing was out of reach if needed in a pinch.
She being thusly preoccupied, Ship paused in admiration of the fine young woman's natural talent. She would indeed make an excellent A.T.S.

In fact, it was Dag who realized that Chumley had not responded to the order announced throughout the Yydryl.
"Where in the....he was right out there!" she said and interrupted her task to go to investigate what was taking him so long.

Just before she reached the trigger zone to open the door, she heard Ship say patiently, "Now. Chumley."
Dag smiled to herself and wagged her head, and turned back to her activity to allow Chumley to save face as he escorted the droids into the Yydryl's most secure of facilities.

Carpet could not help Skinny, it was unfortunately a fact. But he COULD do something to facilitate this entire cluster. Once Squibs had gone, he crept up onto the bed in his friend Silo's chamber; a bed he had frequently enjoyed during his regular comforting and carressing-- he stopped the thought -- massaging of her. Now, the memories of his previous delightful rendesvouz notwithstanding, the furnishing revolted him.

Muckles was drawn up into a fetal position. Carpet felt the thick 'ick' in the air, and his nap prickled and snapped. A drab olive now, he slid beneath the covers, searching. Ship watched as Carpet's entire being shivered in disgust, and turned a ghostly grey. The covers moved and swayed in waves as Carpet searched out his target...

Then he abruptly slid back down to the floor and exhaled deeply. The nap, which had been in full hackle, relaxed back to normal, and a satisfied shade of blue replaced the telling shades of a few moments earlier. Carpet wrapped the flute back into a corner of his .... himself...and raised it up to where the sensors of the door would notice. The doors whispered open, and Carpet and the Flute were gone.

Lying in the bed, Muckles was slowly morphing back to the repellent shape that once had hidden odoriferously beneath a grungy green poncho. Her eyes opened, now the slate color they had been before the bath. She raised a hand from beneath the covers, and was relieved to see the familiar claw-like thing she had become so familiar and dexterous with. Tibbs would be pleased, she knew, that she had not returned to him in the guise of a lovely U-Man. She knew that he genuinely cherished her, foul stench and all.

"Yeah, Mr Ferryman, yeah. Like I said," she mumbled. "Time for payback. I won't do your bidding. I won't. And now those filthy demons are extracted from Ship, and that stupid star-struck droid will never animate them again."

A few moments later, after she had dug around under the covers for the Flute, Mucklebones silently rose from the bed once more, stepping gingerly round the remaining goo from Skinny's demise. She rummaged around among Silo's tasteful decor, her scrawny fanny bare to the air and loosing long-suppressed farts, but could not find the Glass Instrument, nor a garment.

"Grawk," she muttered. She couldn't waste any more time. Although she felt (and was) naked sans the missing poncho, and unprepared without the Flute, she slipped out into the passageway. She had to get to the Sprint before they left without her. Even if Neno got hold of the Flute, he would not know the proper mantra to activate it.

They would have to work together.

Muckles didn't bother to stop by the Armory. She had no reason to, she only knew that in The Center she had left Silo and Sslar, and she had to get back there before they screwed everything up irrevocably. As she hustled by, Ship sighed audibly, glad the foul creature would no longer taint the atmosphere on level two, in any case. Though she was still weak, Ship triggered the air filtration and ventilation system and moved on. She needed to see what they were all up to.

********************

Outside the Armory, all Carpet could do was wait. He was not allowed to enter the sterile facility, and didn't care much for the looks of it, from what he'd seen in the doorway previously. Too many sharp objects like razors and mowers, too many liquids and airhoses and siphons and vacuum tubes. He didn't care much for machinery that was designed for floor maintenance. The worst, however, was the buffer. He shuddered to think what would happen if that wax buffer ever got hold of him.

Inside, Dag was standing with hands on her hips looking at the sorry pile of mechanical and electronic debris. Chumley was busily rearranging flame throwers, then alternately jumping into the seat and practice-grabbing them.

"No, dat not right," he muttered, his eyestalks sagging as he sighed. He jumped back out, shifted the flame throwers a few centimeters up and forward, then back into the seat to test the reach again. "No," he said.

"Chumley," Dag interrupted his train of thought.

"Huh?" he looked at her.

Dag replied, "What do you suppose happened to this droid here? Squibs is too upset to tell me, but apparently he knows."

"Oh, uh," said Chumley, and cleared his throat with suitable authority. "Oh, yup, he say dat Muckles do some bad stuff to Skinny. Sumpin about gave him food and wine and a kiss," he added offhandedly as he once more turned to worry the ammo. "Ship tell him she fix Skinny; dat why dey here."

Dag was looking at Chumley with her jaw slack. "Muckles? Mucklebones did that to Skinny? How?"

Chumley shrugged. "I not dere, Dag, I been wif you all dis time, member? Dose zombies and de Recover Bay an Adam an de Bransom road--"

Dag winced and held up her hand. "Yes, you have been with me, Chumley, you're right. I just can't imagine, first of all, how Muckles got out of the Sprint with Sslar watching her, and even if she had, how in the galaxy she could have dismembered a droid three times her size. Are you certain you didn't misunderstand the little poppet here, the one who found the...wreckage?"

Chumley nodded enthusiastically. "Dat Squibs. Mm-hmmm..I very sure." Suddenly indignant he placed his tentacles on his own hip-sort-of-areas with a hesitation that made Dag smile. "What," he said. "Dat de story. Now c'mon, dey waiting for us in The Center. I was go back alone after you in Recovery, but you good now, so now we go wit wurchudders."

"Who's 'Wurchudders'?" asked Dag

"Huh?" Chumley asked absently as he climbed back aboard the Harry and fiddled with the controls. "Wur. Chudders. You know, you an' me, wurchudders." He waved his tentacles indicating the two of them.
"Ernie and Silo are in The Center wit durchudders." Now he indicated the other two elsewhere with a raised tentacle circling in the general direction of The Center. He paused to make sure Dag was catching on. She seemed to be, so he waved the tentacle back between her and himself, speaking more slowly and clearly. "We go wit wurchudders. You know. A team."

"Ah," said Dag. "Each other." He nodded, and in she climbed.

Mucklebones entered the Centre and felt that she was back on Carbiox, the trees
and moss-covered ground brought memories of when she had first appeared on
the planet.

"Mmm... a veritable oasis" she crackled and eyed the the Cathedral-like windows
that surrounded the foliage. Without any concerns of her nakedness, she wandered
among the purple and dark green vegetation and sniffed the air.

The Flute had gone and she guessed that one of those damned mechanical-men had
stolen it as she had slept, "Bastard" she spat and broke wind at the same time.
The Crone hated technology and even though her Lover back on Carbiox enjoyed the
false-God, she would always reach for her magic potions and her bag of bones.

"Bollow-Crap!" she swore and her right hand automatically reached for where her
faithful bag of tricks should have been stashed, but her bare-hip held no magic items.
She now truly felt her nakedness and breathed a calmness back into her angered mind,
it wouldn't do to start ranting raving here -she thought and remembered why she was
here.

"The Splitter is here... the li'l bugger is here" she quietly assured herself and scanned
the shadowy undergrowth. Two minutes later, she found what she was looking for.

The Moth shuffled around in a full circle on the large chewed leaf and faced the mean
-looking Witch, dull-blue eyes blinked at the grey Lepidoptera.
"You know who I am?" Muckles whispered and screwed her eyes tightly to see if the
dusty insect would acknowledge her, the Moth tapped a fore-limb twice.

"You have an imposter here, someone who disguises himself as one of your own, do
you know of this?" came the snake-smooth question and again, the foot tapped twice.
Mucklebones' slit-like eyes darted left and right as a growing smile appeared on her
tight lips, "thank you, my sister" the Crone said and stepped away from the nodding
leaf.

"Show me where this Splitter hides" Muckles demanded and the small creature vibrated
it's wings, setting off towards a clearing that looked to the Witch as some kind of meadow.
The Moth danced in the air and Muckles followed with the stealth of a hunter.

A few moments later, Muckles vomited from the raging voice that had suddenly invaded
her wrinkled head, as she wretched, she saw clumps of red hair fall onto the crushed grass
where she knelt.

"BRING THE YYDRYL TO ME -WENCH, OR I'LL DESTROY ALL YOU HOLD DEAR" the voice
boomed and Muckles recognised the Dark Lord's acid tones.
The command came four-times and during the head-splitting ordeal, the Crone hacked bile and
phlegm and wept at her weakness.

The sobs subsided after a few minutes and letting the shivers subside, the poor creature
wished she was back with Tibbs, he would fix it... he would fix everything -she thought and
cursed the day she had agreed to The Dark Lord's plot.

The Moth clambered about on the sweat-soaked hair of the watching zombie as Mucklebones
rose from her scabbing knees to stumble onwards, the long meadow-grass hid the dead-but-
deadly onlooker and the drool from the decaying mouth dripped poison onto the waving
clover leaves.

~*~ Chumley Forgot ~*~

‘You catch on quick lil’ Dag so I tells you just once right?’ Chumley pointed at the vehicle’s dash. ‘This control here is for da up and down...’ Chumley’s face grew warmer in embarrassment, ‘...and dis one? Dat’s for the top if you need one you just push it and...’

‘Hold up there big guy, didn’t you just tell me we were going - you know - that wurchudders thing?’ She asked scratching her head. Bother but this Regalian could be confusing.

‘Sure Dag but I...I...I forget something...’ Chumley's eyes stalks dropped so low over his head his eyeballs lay atop his brow looking for all they were worth like big round marbles balancing there.

‘Wha‘d you forget Chum?’ Dag moved over into the driver’s seat when Chumley exited the Harry.

‘Something very important. A...secret!’ Chumley lied blatantly his eyes stalks falling over his face one to each side of his nose. If Dag hadn’t been so confused she would have laughed.

‘Well get on with this secret then and I’ll wait.’ Dag settled back wondering what he was all about.

‘No, you can’t wait, you go. I come later in my Harry.’ Chumley nodded vigorously as was his habit when he wanted something. Dag wasn’t swayed.

‘Chumley. You forget. I don’t know where we’re going in the Center. I said, I’ll wait.’ Her voice dropped it’s warmth and patience replacing them with pure stubbornness.

‘Ok den, You know da big doors? You go der. You wait.’ Chumley nodded pleased.

‘Yeah sure but Chumley it’s ‘that’’ Dag pronounced the ‘t and h’ against the back of her front teeth.

‘Huh?‘ Chumley looked at her cockeyed his stalks rising.

‘Remember you taught me ‘wurchudders’? Well, I teach you ‘th’. Try it! ‘Thhhhhhhis Thhaaaat. Thoseeee,‘ She enunciated, ‘Not ‘dis’ ‘dat and ‘dose’. Flipping the controls Dag raised the Harry so they were face to face repeating the words again so Chumley could watch her tongue.

‘See! It’s easy. You try it!’ She smiled expectantly.

‘You sure Dag?’ Chumley shook his head. Bother but Lil’ Dag was so confusing sometimes.

‘I’m sure now do it just like I did, use your tongue and...’

‘Thbbbbbisb, Thhhhbabt....Thhhbbbaoooosebb’ Chumley’s tongue and lips met, the dynamics brilliant.

Dad didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. When finished wiping the shower of spittle from her face and hair she reached out deliberately and flicked the controls of the Harry dropping the vehicle back to just above ground level. Hitting the second control she raised the Harry’s top and extending her arm from the window pointing her index finger away from the rig. After a moment she poked the air again and continued the pantomime until Chumley turned and ran.

~*~ Chumley Forgot ~*~

‘How I forget? I so stoopid!‘ Chumley whacked a tentacle against his thigh. Clambering into the Sprint he popped the navigation disk from the Sprints control panel. Eyeing his whip he’d left next to the pilots chair he rubbed it lovingly against his cheek. He’d promised Whisper he’d never be without it. He’d forgotten it too! Almost.

‘Now we go do what Silo say.‘ Turning too quickly Chumley gave a whoop and tumbled from the Sprint landing in a heap on the tarmac. Before he’d righted himself he came face to face with Squibs who’d skidding to a stop just inches from his face.

‘Where’re you off to Regalian?’ The little red light on his head flashed a warning. ‘My mates not fixed yet is he?’

‘Noze, not yet...’ Flustered Chumley raised up on his tentacles and searched the room making sure they were not observed before he continued. ‘I has to go Center Squibs. Ship business and all dat. I promise when I comes back I fix Skinny. But...you gots to do somethin’ for me.’ Chumley started his head nodding.

Squib’s light quit revolving. The little droid was waiting.

‘Take dis,’ Chumley passed him the Sprints coordinate disc. ‘Puts it in Ship der in Deson’s station - no need to go to dat command deck.’ Chumley finished clambering to his feet.

‘Since you asked there’s no doubt I can and will be doin’ this, but Regalian, I need your word you’ll be fixing Skinny...’ Squibs readied a speech.

‘Yeah yeah, I do it, promise.’ Chumley waved him away.

‘Anything else Regalian, Sir?’ Squibs sarcasm was lost on Chumley.

‘Oh! Yeahs!’ Chumley slapped his thigh again. ’Dem Regalian forget. You needs to arm the Yydryl with da big weapons, da good ones.’ Chumley kept nodding.

‘Your sure then? This thing you’re asking me to do is a might off isn’t it?’ Squibs hesitated.

‘No no! Silo tell me to do this. Den I tell you do this. So it same as Silo tell you do this. Got dis? An remember, all da big guns and dem torpedoes and lasers an all dat good stuff. They go live.’

‘Live?’ Squibs asked for confirmation.

‘Live.‘ Chumley gave it. ’You do dis and when I come back I make Skinny live too.’

It was all Squibs needed to hear. He spun in place and headed for the Armory as the Regalian ran in the other direction flapping his lips and talking to himself as he went.

"... And that is why Muckles placed the spell on Skinny, so that I could come through
into this reality" The Splitter said and stretched the stiff arm once more. Ship waited a
moment and then excused the Repair-Arms that had busied themselves earlier, as they
slipped back into the Armory walls, another piece of metal-plating fell from Skinny's
body and so -revealed the charcoal-grey colour of Splitter's skin.

"But you indicated that this Witch-creature was seeking you..." Ship said "... and that
she worked for the one they call The Dark Lord?" Skinny stood up from the steel table
and steadied himelf on it's edge.

"Yes, she's working off the idea that I can be used to barter for her love -Tibbs... she
fears for his safety" Skinny said and became no-more.
The metal that comprised of Skinny's outer-shell clunked and clanged to the floor
and there, standing among the scrap -stood The Splitter.

The Yydryl's mind pondered the current plot and found it some-what confusing, the
main-hitch seemed to be this Gray-Crone that was running-riot at the moment.
The large-silver eyes of The Splitter creased in good humour as he sensed Ship's troubled
musings, but he waited for the questions anyway.

"What is going to happen, Splitter?" Ship asked after a few moments of silence, the Armory
usually buzzed with repairs of Droids, but with recent events -a welcoming quiet resided
there.

"You're going to be dragged through time and space, I believe the exact coordinates will be
with you very soon ..." Splitter announced "... sadly, you will be putting yourself and your
crew in extreme danger" he continued and stepped towards the exit-door.

Ship stopped the door from opening and responded with "If that is true, then why would I
allow that to happen?" The console at the side of the exit clicked from red back to green as
Ship realised it was inappropriate to imprison this entity.

The Splitter turned and faced back into the room and his huge glittering eyes seemed to give
off an extra lustre. "Somewhere, all this has already happened... in some time, you are
already there... take solace in being shown the event before it occurs" The Splitter said with
an ominous voice.

The quietness came again for a few seconds, before Ship asked the question.

"Will I die?" the voice asked and the tones were from a fearful child hiding in a cupboard.
The Splitter smiled kindly and turned back towards the smooth contours of the door, "Enjoy
the ride -Ship... enjoy the game" the small being whispered and stepped from the Armory
and into the corridor.

"Sleep well, Skinny" were the last words Ship heard the strange-being utter as the door
swished closed behind him.

~*~ Adam Healing... ~*~

Pulling the cover to the healing pod closed Adam felt the first pain. Dag was on the outside, somewhere he was not. He was on the inside, alone, somewhere she wasn’t.

He missed her already. He lay still - being too dead to move didn’t give him much of a choice - but his ever active heart? It raged for her. With every breath in, and every breath out.

If he’d known what was coming he’d of fought...and fought hard. Rejuvenation was not easy or clean and simple. In fact it hurt like the very fires of hell. But he’d do it for her. Willingly. This was his last rational thought before multiple large bore needles descended from the cover of the healing machine like some ‘iron maiden’ from ages gone by.

His skin was punctured. Every inch of it. Even his eyes.

Take out - put in. A simple process that caused agony beyond description...until...until the new blood forced into this veins laden with a heavy cocktail of pain killers made...him...smile...

And as the rich red liquid circulated though his system warming as it went...It finally touched his heart. A song from his past - 'their song' - and the sweet sweet memory of dancing with his love in candle light in a cabin on an earth far far away rose and swelled sending him into the drug induced coma needed before the next process of his rebirth began.

Dag fiddled with the controls a bit after Chumley left her. Up. Down. Left. Right. Diagonal.
She smiled. "Fun!" she said. Chumley had said go ahead to the great double-doors....
where was it again??

Using her instincts, she pointed the Harry the way she thought seemed correct.
A strange tune came into her head..."If I just lay here...."

She thought of Adam.

Chumley would be awhile, judging by his bizarre and sudden relinquishing of the now-loaded Harry over to her control. She chuckled. Whatever he had "forgotten," when he was done with the task he would realize that the Harry, carrying arms which he himself had adjusted to his particular reach and ease of access, was in her possession. She stopped the Harry, and turned it about.

"No, Chum, you take this one...you've already outfitted it for your particular style of combat," she muttered aloud. She headed back for the Armory.

Just as she rounded the bend, she saw the Splitter. If it was possible, her face went paler than its usual hue. The Splitter saw her at the same time.
"Oh," he said. "Hello, Dag. I just checked on Adam, he's doing very well. You might want to look in on him yourself, Darling. Just -- you know -- so he can feel your presence."

Dag's beautiful lilac lips pressed into a very firm and thin horizontal line. "And where are you going?" she asked.

The Splitter began to approach the Harry, but Dag flipped into retreat, and it moved just out of reach. It didn't take but a nano-count for the Splitter to comprehend her mistrust. He smiled warmly and waved his hand dismissively to trivialize his answer. "Oh! Oh, just exploring, really. Just...erm...looking around." He paused to look into her lovely violet eyes. "Do you have any suggestions? Really, I'm just killing time. Just.. kind of...curious, you know, a tourist-type."

The blatantly contrived 'leisurely exploration' didn't fly with Dag. Her eyes narrowed.

"I don't believe you."

"About curiosity?"

"That. And other things." Dag felt anxiety welling up within.

"I'm sorry, Darling. He -- it was too late."

Dag's mouth opened in horror. "NO!" she said. "You JUST SAID he was doing very well!"

"Well... he WAS, when I got there. Now, not so much," said the Splitter, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Well, which is it?!?" Dag demanded, using her outdoor voice.

"Look, I did nothing to him. I checked, he was okay, then I checked again, he wasn't. He is comatose. You saying 'NO!' doesn't undo what's done, my dear," said the Splitter. Now the smile became a sinister grin.

"You're LYING!" she shrieked. I KNOW he'll be all right. I activated you! I cried on his eyelids, and it gave him back the breath of life! What do you mean he's...he's.......Really?"

The Splitter nodded yes. Dag's complexion crimsoned. Then the Splitter smiled no, and wagged his head. Dag relaxed. She looked at him again. He nodded with an earnestness that made her falter. She glared at him again. He wagged his head, negating the assertion. Then he laughed outright, a sound like the tinkling of wind chimes fashioned of seashells in a summer's breeze.

Dag cleared her throat, her brows furrowing in clear indication of her consternation.

The Splitter threw his hands into the air. "I don't know! How would I know!? You're right. As soon as you, erm, displaced my, uh, well, me....I lost track. Well, I'm off. Just, you might want to take a moment to see him." And suddenly the Splitter was racing down the passageway away from her.

Dag needed only to hover for a moment, debating what to do. She knew Chumley would be a few minutes, and now she was worried. She looked at the control panel. Sure enough, there was a button for 'Recovery Bay'. She pressed it, and the Harry swiveled round and took off so fast her head flew back.

******************

Squibs arrived at the Armory at the same time that Dag reached the Rec Bay. The doors swished open, and Squibs rolled in, his overtaxed wheel from having carried Skinny still squeaking.
"Ship, Yourself?" he asked.
No answer.
"Ship? Ahh, Security Chief Chumley asked me to insert this locator chip into the, uh..." Squibs had no idea what he was expected to do, and glanced about the control board.

Ship was too weak to do anything but illuminate the portal in which the device was meant to be placed. Squibs stuck it onto the prongs, gently pushed and pulled to ensure it was seated, and pushed it firmly down, satisfied it was connected appropriately. Then he turned around to see Skinny's parts spread around the floor.

"Oh, Skinny!" he moaned. "Oh, Skinny, how did you become scattered?" He squeaked over to the chest plate of his friend and extended the mini-loader that was used for collecting floor debris. Distracted by the disshevelment of his friend he momentarily forgot that Ship was supposed to be receiving the encoded coordinates of the Sprint.

After several minutes, Squibs had Skinny piled into a neat arrangement, a sort of pyramid of parts. Then he looked at the control panel and saw the display. "Transmission failed."

"Aw, blast!" he said. He would have to find Chumley and drag His Rotund Authority back to the Armory so the Yydryl would have the necessary coordinates to activate the Sprint.

He zoomed toward the door and it opened just a flash before he'd have rammed it with his bodytank.

"Chumley" he called. "Chumley!!" Squibs headed for the double-doors that led into The Center.

When he arrived, no one was there.

Chumley raced out of the docking bay and came to the very same transport-pod in which Carpet had handed off the Flute to Mucklebones. He pushed the "UP' button, but watching the lights could see it was going "DOWN." He frowned. But it arrived and opened, and there was Carpet, with the Flute.

Carpet's nap was quivering.

"Carpet? What doing?" asked Chumley. He got in the pod anyway, not caring that it was going down while he wanted to go up. At least he had command of the pod.

Carpet just waved his nap at the well-meaning Regalian. "No time!" The door opened and as he exited into The Center he called over his raised and rolled corner. "Gotta get this to Muckles!" He was glowing that two-battery fuschia again.

Chumley watched Carpet's ballistic rolling (it's what caterpillars do) out of the transport-pod, wondering what was wrapped in Carpet's corner. He tucked his lips to the side, but then recalled his task and pushed the "UP" button again, several times. He had to get a Harry and meet Dag at the double-doors.

***************

Chumley arrived at the Armory just as Squibs exited it, the little droid's light revolving somberly.

"Squibs!" Chumly stopped him. "You did dat ting? Dat ting Silo wanted?"

Now Squibs' light stopped altogether. He tilted forward.

"Oh, Squibs!" roared Chumley, his tone and volume beyond what anyone, including himself, had ever heard before. "What!? What wrong?"

Squibs said contritely, "The thing you gave me...Transmission Failed."

"Awww, Ohhhhhh, NOooooo!" cried Chumley and he pushed past Squibs so vigorously the little droid tipped over, its wheel squeaking more and more slowly as it came to a stop.

Leaving the despondent droid in the passageway, Chumey entered the Armory and glanced around hurriedly. Dag was gone. Check. Skinny still disassembled. Check. Chumley looked at the Yyrdryl's navigation portal. "Transmission failed" was blinking in yellow.