Chapter 20
Ramona picked her nose and flung some dried mucus away. Hands covered in grease, old ragged clothes dawned, and protective goggles strapped to her head, Ramona sat out front of Arts of Parts, fine-tuning one of her larger creations called a Lifter-Sifter-Five. It stood five feet tall with solid trasteel hydraulic arms which had wide pallets for hands.
In a somewhat organized chaos, scattered around on dirty bed sheets were dozens of tiny metal bits and wires which were occasionally plucked up and melded into the drone’s intricate inner workings. Typically, the workshop inside would have no problem accommodating such a large project, but Ramona thought it better to haul everything out into the sunny, breezy weather.
Paul awoke to the clatter of a wrench, the clash of metal, and the racing of a hypo-motor. Midday already, he had slept in. For the past few months, the dark visions came and went, the whispers of the cloaked figure swirled in his mind often: “I had no choice...I had to kill her.” Fortunately, however, the dreams’ intensity had diminished some. Still, sleep had become somewhat of a scarce commodity. Waking up in the wee hours of the night to Ramona sitting in the corner of the room had become the norm.
“I just can’t sleep…well, I never sleep, actually. I get lonely, I guess, at night,” Ramona said one night. A quirk of her species, perhaps? She certainly wasn’t human, not entirely at least. Certain subspecies of humans were not uncommon; generations had developed differing traits based on whatever planet they grew up on, or in some rare cases, interspecies offspring.
Then, of course, there were Progenitors, the pinnacle of power that could develop in most humanoid species, or so Paul had thought. Seeing Ramona demonstrate her abilities that night on the bridge was eye-opening; the Umlenze galaxy still had many secrets to be discovered. If Ramona turned out not to be human at all, well, that was something of great intrigue.
Martha was a much more gracious individual, kindness unwavering and joyful always, even under Ramona’s adolescent misgivings. It was not uncommon for Paul to get stuck in the middle of their squabbles; just a few days ago, they were going on about Owlen again.
“But mother!” Ramona exclaimed.
“No ‘buts,’” Martha said firmly.
“I...Owlen is...” She said, stumbling over her words.
“I said no. You will stay away from that man and let Paul do his work.” Martha’s parental furrow vanished to a gentle smile regarding Paul. “Ah-I’m sorry you have to listen to us bicker dear. More sweet bread?”
On top of an incessant need to remain untouched, free of germs, Martha was not above exhibiting strange behaviors. On two separate nights, Paul could find no signs of anyone else besides himself and Ramona, bedroom empty, everything straight, bed perfectly kept. A secret nightlife? Or was Martha of the same species as Ramona minus the glowing eyes? It was probably best not to ask such a rude question despite it rattling around his head.
The silver map, which led Paul to Kanchi in the first place, lay amongst the cluttered guest room like a forgotten memento. The alien calligraphy inscribed across its front impalpably connected to Ramona and her bracelet, and under Paul’s assumption, the Cathedral as well.
Paul’s favorite theory of what lay in the Cathedral was one of Omega’s Obelisks that seeped out terrible visions. But why were the Amani protecting it? Did they even know what it was? Perhaps they had been studying it and were on the verge of the next big breakthrough. No matter the scenario, Paul would find out one way or another. An eventuality, a task for another day, Paul would think to himself as he performed his daily calisthenics, sword drills, and when he sat down to breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day with Martha and Ramona.
“Hey, Ramona!” Paul shouted, poking his head out an upstairs window. No reply from the girl hunched over an open compartment of the drone, the revving and churning of her tools still ringing. “Ramona!” He repeated, “Roam! Drone lover! Insipid little girl! Evil alien! Ingrate!” He hesitated, “Rahmaru…”
The wailing sputtered to silence, Ramona cast a piercing glare over her shoulder. Eights warbled beside her. “Did my mom tell you that name, huh? Lord Nefarous!”
“Don’t call me that; people have ears, you know!” Paul shook his fist. He was downstairs in a minute’s time, still in his black evening tunic and brown pajama bottoms on loan from Martha. “It’s dangerous, you know. Calling me that in public just to get back at me.”
The girl shrugged indifferently as she went back to work, and Eights blurted something that resembled laughter. “Flat wrench,” she ordered, and the drone assistant reached out with one of its mandibles, plucking up the tool and handing it off to its master. “I bought these parts from Mia Cornstaff across the river, but they’re hardly up to snuff compared to my normal vendor. I mean, these exhaust motors are brand new, and two of em’ have already backfired. Very annoying…” She said, grunting from tightening a bolt. “Anyways, that two thousand credit investment you gave me when you first got here was nice, but it won’t last forever. I’ve used a chunk of that to build this guy.” She slapped its metal hull without taking her eyes off her work. “I’ll bet I could get at least three thousand credits for him. With that, I can pay the bills and still have some left over to buy that new Wonku racket I’ve been wanting.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“Wonku, you mean that sport?” Paul asked thoughtfully.
“Yeah-“She chuckled, “-sometimes I hustle the local teams to get some bonus credits in my pocket. Well, I say sometimes; I mean used to. Last time I beat Flunder’s Laundry forty-three to zero. Let’s just say I’m now known as the Scourge of Wonku. And nobody wants to play with someone who may or may not abuse her telekinetic powers to win.” She finished connecting some blue wires, sighed proudly, and looked up at Paul with a smile. “A girl’s gotta eat. Speaking of which…” She reached a hand out, and a biscuit came zooming through the front door of the shop right into her mouth.
Seeing Ramona use her powers, even for the most mundane things, never ceased to amaze Paul. “Do you have any other secret talents?” he asked. “I’ve been meaning to ask.”
“Well…” she began with a mouthful of bread, then gobbled the rest down in seconds, “there is one thing I’ve been working on for a while.” She cleaned the grease from her hands with a tattered pink rag. Stood up, popped her knuckles, and outstretched one hand towards the ground. “Now I haven’t exactly perfected this…” Blue arcing sparks leapt from her fingertips, crackling and hissing furiously. Then in an instant, it was over. Ramona shook her hand like she had just touched hot metal, eyes wincing. “Thing is…it burns like fire. And no, it doesn’t work with gloves.”
Paul raised an eyebrow, “That’s most impressive. How do you do it?”
“The same way I grip objects, it’s like reaching out and grabbing something almost. Except, in this case, I focus on the air particles around my fingers and compress them as tightly as I can. The friction causes these super-heated arcs…it kinda looks like lightning, huh? Super awesome,” she said pointedly, then sat back down cross-legged and went back to work on her drone.
Paul stood over her shoulder, watching her meticulous work; she was tightening a bolt with her hands while several other tiny pieces hovered into place simultaneously. Ever since the night at the bridge, when Ramona demonstrated the destructive power of her abilities, something had been gnawing at Paul. A question he had been nervous to ask, it would be highly irregular for a Tuyet Voi Progenitor. But it’s not like Paul was Tuyet Voi anymore, not as long as Felix Reyleonard reigned. “With abilities like that, you would make for a powerful Progenitor.”
Ramona stopped working and turned to Paul, her lip twisted to one side to create an arch in her cheek. “What, like an apprentice or something? Hold on...” She reached a hand out, a book came zooming out from the balcony window and into her grasp.
“That text again?” Paul said impatiently. “If you have questions, you could just ask me.”
“Ah-here it is,” she pointed to a specific paragraph. “Says here Tuyet Voi Progenitors don’t take apprentices, ever. But Amani do. Don’t tell me you’re going soft.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Paul scowled. Being compared to an Amani Progenitor, how offensive. “The Amani tremble at the very mention of my name, and soon even the Tuyet Voi. I shall forge my own path, the architect of a new galactic power. Should I decide to break away from convention and take on an apprentice, then so be it!”
“All right, all right, I was only kidding,” Ramona laughed, her bright green eyes looked at Paul with genuine interest. “You know I can’t sense danger or anything...or whatever.”
“It would hardly matter. With those powers, you could bring down any Progenitor with ease, even me.”
Ramona cast her eyes back to her drone, tapping her fingernails on its metal casing. “You mean you would take me away from this place when you’re done?” She asked, looking up at the shop. “I mean...I’ve dreamt of leaving this place for so long, but this is my home. I started building my life here, I started this drone shop, I know all the other local vendors and all the shortcuts and hidden beauties of this city. I even have a few friends, kinda.” She looked back up at Paul. “I’m not sure I can just drop everything to come with you.”
Paul knelt beside the drone to examine its insides. “It’s no wonder you’re so good at this. You can assemble these parts in a way not even machines are capable of. Life’s easy when you’re fixing drones; you have complete control, nothing to be afraid of.“ Paul turned to look Ramona right in her eyes; she seemed to be listening intently. “We’re all daunted to venture into the uncharted territory, I certainly was when I was taken from my home to train at the Academy.”
Nodding her head with a smirk on her lips, Ramona said, “now, where did you get all this charisma from?”
“I led a fleet for years!” Paul said irritably. “Inspiring is well within my repertoire.”
“Clearly,” she admitted while leaning back to look up into the blue sky. She breathed a long sigh. “A Progenitor Knight...me, huh? Well, technically, according to page fifty-seven of the text, only the Emperor can knight people or an Amani master. Also, technically I wouldn’t even be classified as a Progenitor since I don’t even share the same abilities. Think we’ll need a new name for whatever I am.”
“Fair enough,” Paul liked that idea. “So, you accept?”
“Tentatively, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested.” Ramona wagged her finger. “Just remember, if you try to pull the whole tough teacher thing, I can just crush you like a bug.”
Paul belted out a laugh. “I intend to ask your mother to come along as well. She’ll keep you in line better than I ever could.”
“Look at you, I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh,” Ramona said. “You know, I think she’d like that. I mean, she’ll go wherever I go after all. But, if for some reason she doesn’t want to, well, I’ve said goodbyes before,” she added with a mutter. “So, what about one of those swords? I’d get one of those, right?”
“Ha- eager? I doubt you’d even need one. But, of course, it is the tool and weapon of every Knight,” Paul said proudly. “I have a collection of them stored on Nateerie, prizes from past victories.”
Ramona scrunched her face. “Sounds grizzly, maybe not one of your blood swords. Maybe I’ll just steal one from someone else, shouldn't be too hard.” she smiled brightly. “But let’s not worry about all that right now! Hand me that point seven hydraulic pump over there…yeah, that’s the one.”