Salvation: Part II

Epsilon nods, “Right, now to figure out where exactly Facelift has set up shop.” He tries to call Facelift on the comlink.

“There’s gotta be a way in.” She muttered, trying the windows.

“Hello hello,” Facelift’s voice warbles through the comlink.

“You’ve reached Facelift of Pescus Hex, renowned shellmaker and the best surgeon this side of the Benzuli Expanse. I also tap dance and s- oh, Epsilon! Good to be hearing from you!”


The windows didn’t open, but they weren’t exactly bullet-proof.

She didn’t wanna cause damage, but she supposed she had to. She drew her knife, and tried to carefully wedge it in between the window and the sill.

Juliana would be successful.

She slowly worked her knife around the sill, if she completed it successfully, she would be able to remove the window from the frame with little damage to either.

The window is successfully pried free.

Epsilon couldn’t help but give a good-natured laugh at the tap dancing comment, “Good to hear from you too.” He said, “I noticed your ‘office’ isn’t anywhere in the open and I was wondering if I could get some directions to your operating theater.”

She tilted her knife, pushing the now-free window towards her. When it tiltwd towrds her, she caught it, and dropped her knife. She balanced it on her chest, then grabbed it by the sides. She set it gently down by the side of the frame, and then she tried to climb through.

“Oh yeah, sure!” Facelift replies.

“Currently, I’m in a little stretch of tunnel just outside Engineering, I think. I’ll send you the exact location in a bit.”


Juliana would be able to fit through the frame.

The interior of the Antillain Sunrise was dark, lit only by soft rays of blue shining though the windows… and the glow of a plasma cannon’s barrel pointed right at Juliana. Halfrunner’s junkion friend, with the opaque visor and garish paint scheme, had been caught by surprise by her entrance, and had deployed his weapon as a precaution, not yet knowing who had broken in.

“Wait wait! It’s me!” She cried, covering her head.

The DJ lowers his weapon and tilts his head, peering curiously at Juliana for a second before he recognizes her. He startles, and there is a hiss as he hastily retracts the plasma cannon into his arm, reforming his hand. His mouth curves into an awkward, apologetic expression halfway between a smile and a cringe.

“Take your time.” Epsilon replied.

“It’s alright.” she said, “you’re just doing your job. I shouldhave known it was guarded.” She stood up, and brushed herself off, and looked around. “So… you live here huh?”

Epsilon quickly receives the location of Facelift’s lab over his communicator. True to his word, the cyclops could be found in a maintenance station branching off of Engineering.

Topside raises his forearm and activates his own communicator, contacting Motherboard.

“I need a team on standby, if you’re not busy,” he says to the first officer, who flatly replies:

“I am currently handling two thousand, three-hundred-and-seven separate tasks, captain Topside.”

“So… does that mean-?”

“Engineering’s security department has just been notified, captain Topside. They will move to apprehend Facelift on your signal.”


The DJ points a finger up at the ceiling; he lived on the floor above, apparently.

“Oh, gotcha.” She said. “Well, do you feel like helping me open?”

Epsilon seemed nervous, “Can’t we give him a chance to be given some leniency, at least until we get back home and restore the Allspark?” He asks.

“As hypocritical as it may sound given my behavior on Planet Omega, I think Epsilon has a point.” Zepar said, “Where do we draw the line between justice and mercy?”

“I say we negotiate with him depending on the results of the procedure and that we not make him more afraid of us than he already is.” Zepar told the group. “I think we can all agree there’s been enough bloodshed and hatred of late.”

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Split takes the punch, staggering a bit. He turns and fires the shotgun at Drone.

The DJ tilts his head to one side and looks at Juliana with a quizzical expression.


Topside considers Zepar’s words.

“With luck,” he says, “there won’t be any more of that here. Facelift’s dangerous, Zepar. I’d feel a whole lot safer with him in the brig.”


Drone staggers as the shot strikes his chest and midsection, though it seemed it would take more than that to take down the insecticon. He transforms to beast mode and takes flight as Clip rushes in and swings the flat of her blade at Split.

“Mr Halfrunner’s injured, and can’t open today. So, I was going to.” She explained.