“wha-what I was so upset about when you found me. Something in the port started taking the ship apart and repairing it. That’s what lead to the riot.” Juliana explained.
“Wait, the riot? How’d that start a riot?”
“I’m not sure.” She said, “But If I had to guess, the power to the cell doors went down, allowing the prisoners to go free.”
“No argument there.” Epsilon said, his body language showing he wanted to keep moving to see if Facelift was indeed safe.
“If you’ll excuse me…” Grommet says, not bothering with the handshake as he walks past Delta to resume his search.
The profiles disappear, and the footage of Corona talking to Actaeon returns.
Forcep gives Blight a quizzical look.
“Have you been in a stasis-nap for the past few hours?” he asks. “Salvation’s been in pieces and making all these lights and sounds all day.”
“Now then,” Corona says with a sigh, turning to look at the facility. “I’m sure you want to see for yourself that your friend is safe.”
" ‘Friend’ ain’t the word I’d use, personally," Thrift comments. “More like… 'fellow independent businessman.”
The work was proceeding smoothly. The pilgrims had managed to build most of the body over the last 7,000 years, and now they just needed Facelift and Spectrum to add the finishing touches- the most difficult parts.
Around the room, other groups of pilgrims seemed to be working on components to a massive suit of armor and formidable weapons, likely meant to go with the body on the table.
Spectrum began to assist Facelift.
“Sheesh.” she said, before leaving to search for Salvo.
She sticks her optics on the two.
Facelift concentrates his efforts on the body’s half-finished transformation cog.
Everything Spectrum would need was at her disposal; the amorphous metal around the body could be shaped into whatever form she desired.
Corona begins to walk toward the facility, when two phantoms materialize before the party. One was a minicon with dirty yellow armor, large green eyes, and wheels for legs, and the other was a tall junkion with crimson armor accented by gold and bronze, bearing the alt-mode of a terran pickup truck. He had an ornate sword stowed across his back.
The two apparitions look around at the landscape, their eyes drifting over the various members of the party.
“Yo Salvage, check it!” the minicon exclaims, looking toward his companion. “We’re spectral apparitions appearing before our ancestors to give them vague an’ mysterious premonitions of the future!”
“Uh, Bootleg?” the one called Salvage reacts, sounding nervous, “I’m pretty sure we’re not supposed to be self-aware spectral apparitions, man.”
“What? There a code to bein’ a ghost or somethin’?” Bootleg retorts. “I’ll make all the metacommentary I want, an’ ain’t nothin’ gonna stop me!”
Salvo could be seen at the bazaar. As one might expect, she was eyeing a storefront that had a variety of large and intimidating weapons on display.
No sound came from the recording. Corona and Actaeon talked, Driftburn and an unknown bot with a jet mode each made a brief appearance, then everyone went their separate ways.
“I found him.” she told her when she got to her.
“Is there a way I can find out where the two are?”
Spectrum bent and formed the metal to the necessary form and shape.
Salvo looks over at her.
“Oh, good,” she says.
“Please identify ‘the two’,” Motherboard requests.
The metal complies, taking the shape the Spectrum molded it to and remaining in that form.
“Y’know, this guy looks kinda familiar,” Facelift mutters. “Can’t put my finger on it…”
“So? Are we going?”
“Uhm… Actae-something and Broad-guy. Sorry. Didn’t catch their names.”
Epsilon looks confused.
Spectrum continued her work, moving around the body on the table to reach better.
“Going… where?” Salvo asks, confused.
“Crewwoman Broadband is beside me,” Motherboard explains. “I am unaware of crewman Actaeon’s current location, however.”
Broadband, at the mention of her name, looks up from a datapad and waves with a smile on her face.
The two specters stare back at Epsilon.
“Hey,” Bootleg says, narrowing his eyes. “Ain’t that the guy who-?”
“Bootleg!” Salvage cuts the minicon short. “Time Travel Rule Number Three, remember?!”
“Oh, frak,” Bootleg realizes. catching himself. “My bad. Didn’ say nothin’. The integrity o’ the timeline is secure.”
Some of the pilgrims react negatively to this; as if they were afraid Spectrum would break something by moving the body around.
Not that Facelift was being especially careful, either. Unlike Forcep, his work was frenzied and chaotic. The hecatian hummed a wild tune to himself as he splashes sentio metallico all over the platform.
Spectrum glances at Facelift, then scoots over and begins to clean up after him.
“I thought you were wanting s to go explore the place.”
“Sigh… Got any idea how I can find this Actaeon?”
Facelift didn’t seem to notice as he continues to work. The pilgrims leave the platform to let the two do their thing.
Facelift seemed to be enjoying himself.
“Seriously, all you guys had to do was ask, for spark’s sake!” he laughs. “How could I’ve said no? The captains’d never let me do something like this!”
“…Granted, I don’t think either of them know I exist, but…”
“Oh. Yeah,” Salvo reacts.
“Guess I’m already doing that,” she says, casting an eager glance back at the large guns.
“Well, I could call him for ya,” Broadband offers.
“You a fan of guns?”
Song slowly turned her head to her.
“You could have called anybody I would have wanted for all this time?”