>> Decompression

“Sleep time! Sleep time! WOOO!!!” Badger cheers, spinning Tufty like a terrified bolas. “Sleeep time!!!” He launches the squealing cat, and drops into a one-handed cartwheel. “Sleep- OW MY FACE!!”

“Calm down, ya lil twerp.” I sigh as Kami fishes our pet idiot out of a kit-pile by his ankle. And our (very dizzy) pet kitty out of another. “Hey! I said calm it! Or you’ll be sleepin’ outside!”

“WOO!! CAMPING!! Let’s gooooo!!!” He yells, upside down.

“No-!” I flop my digital face into virtual hands, and contemplate The Murder Turrets again. “I mean, it could totally look like an accident. Who’d even know?”

“You’re still on tannoy, mate.” Grunts a happily re-trousered Zipper, squirming himself over the back of my chair.

Not an easy feat, with all those studs, despite how skinny he is.

“Yeah, but I’m in charge o’ the mission reports.” I grumble back, as Badger makes another mad loop. “So technically…..”

“Mate. Like, seriously? You never write reports. Come on.” He pauses to un-catch his belt-chains, and pop down onto the deck. “Like, who do we even report to anyways? Other than you?”

“I’d make a special exception.” I growl back, as if basking in the fantasy. Then my eyes snap open. “Right! Badger! Enough Zoomies! Got a special mission for ya! Go set up the beds!”

“WOOO!!!! Yeah! You can count on me, Spook!!!” He cheers again, leaping onto a sheet that skids across the metal deck. “Woaoaoh!!!”

CRASH.

But one mild concussion later, he’s up and at it again. Dragging out our collection of looted duvets, cushions, and more. Plumping himself up a cosy nest in the corner by me, with a big fluffy marshmallow plush - which he bodyslams, happily. That, as planned, leaves Kami and Zip some space to do their thing. Her laying out a simple pad on the newly dried floor - with the exact right duvets, and only those. Him kicking his gaming bundle back into order, while hunting for shirts.

Our cat hopping about on all fours - swiping at ‘Mega Marshie’ with his knuckles - as a giggling Badger waves it about. I let em party it out for a bit, then dim the lights down. Teeth get their weekly brush with nanite gel - under extreme protest from guess who. Then I call lights out for the shorties in twenty.

That won’t stop Zip & Kami nuking a few VR civilisations - but it does chill things down a little.

More or less. Kinda.

In the meantime I inject my consciousness into one of the robot mice, and go nudge Tufty. “Oi! Cat-butt! You feline okay? Hehe-” I yelp as he goes from zero to full predator mode in an instant – pouncing the mouse, and bowling it along the floor.

Then he jerks back. “Gosh! Wait! Spook! I can’t eat those!”

“Ya better not! They taste of batteries!” I growl.

“Um….” The now-giant kitty-boy blinks, leaning his face against the floor as he pats curiously at the mouse. That is to say, at me. “Are you going to run about…..?”

Yeah this might not have been the world’s best way to talk to a dang cat. But I’m sorta committed now.

“No…. Um…. Just wanted to talk? About all that….. stuff…. Earlier….?” He freezes, ears flopping as he shrinks back. “I want…. I want to talk about….” He shivers, very quietly, fiddling with his bag. “Look. It was dangerous. What we did. Lockin’ you up. It was stupid. And it won’t happen again.”

“Okay…..” He whispers, wilting before my eyes.

“We’ll work out somethin’ better. Alright?”

“Like trusting me!?” He sniffs. Snapping his head around to stare at me. One paw mushing down his his already flat fringe, and smothering it against his face. “If you’re not…. Not gonna….” He turns away, pulling out bed-clothes. “If I can’t be…. on the team…. I don’t wanna talk bout it…..” Another shiver. “And there’s…. nothing to talk about.”

What do I even say to that?

“Alright, then- yah!” I yelp, as a building-sized Badger pounces my tiny bot. “Hey! Who’s the bloody cat here!?”

“MEEEE!!!” He roars, mid-leap, while I scrabble back. “YOOOW!”

“Yeah, right.” I snort as he carries ‘me’ back to his nest in his mouth. Leaving the real kitty to fiddle and fumble with the buttons of his fuzzy pink kitty-hoodie pyjamas. Pinching them between gleaming green claws, and carefully slotting them through. Big, sad, green eye flicking toward me - in search of help.

Or a surrogate parent.

He glances up at my cameras, then at the others. But Kami has a console to fix, and Zip acts suddenly busy. And Badger….. well. I told the others not to help ‘cause I don’t want him to be helpless. Not that our one-handed-wally is any better with buttons, you understand. I’m just sorta worried Badger’s ‘fashion sense’ is transferable…. in the ‘Ebola’ sense of the word.

And it’s not just the fact that he’s wearing Zipper’s favourite shirt as a cape. Or that he’s wearing Zip’s second favourite shirt as his trousers….. somehow.

Oh no. The lil clown is wearing every hat, bowtie, and pair of boxers he owns.

And not all of em how you’d expect.

“One day I’m gonna sit down n’ explain clothes to the little bugger. With diagrams.” I mutter, as my mouse-self is steadily nommed.

“Purr purr!!”

“Yeah yeah. Y’little…. Cat…. Lovin’….” Sudden realisation hits me like a bullet. “Wait. Did…. Did you just….” Mouse eyes blink, then narrow up at that huge – suspiciously innocent - face. “….did you do that to protect Tufty!?”

He giggles happily, ignoring the question.

“Y’know…. sometimes your ‘random’ bleedin’ nonsense is a liiitle bit too well timed….”

I exit the doomed bot’s interface, and snort. Flickering from camera to camera as the crew settles down. Tufty letting out a huge yawn full of lil fangs, already half-curled up and blinking. Kami swearing through her teeth as she peels apart the console. Which, thankfully, wasn’t printed as a single unit. It’s almost hypnotic. Every tool and finger merging into a single, fluid, motion. All five hands in perfect sync. As if she already knows how every part fits, and she is programmed to do this.

Like Zipper with his drones.

Bit by bit, it unravels. Reels of printed plastic circuity unspooled into neat coils that she props up to dry. Even the shell itself is laced with tek.

Mere minutes later, she stops.

“Hey.” I hesitate. “Can you save it?”

A huff of breath, and a tired look. “I’ll…. I don’t know. Not yet.” She rubs her face. “Gotta check all the power bridges for burnout. Then the boards….. But-”

Zipper flexes gem-blue nails. Head low. Breath hard. Eyes on the door. And I can sense, like a barometer, that there’s a new storm of gale-force shouting on the horizon. A storm I gotta clamp down on, now, before things explode.

Thankfully, I speak his language.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“Hey.” I say as softly as I can. Manifesting my avatar beside him. “I know it sucks, b-”

“Mate, it more than-!” He explodes.

“But fightin’ ain’t gonna solve it.” I interrupt, hard and fast. “Yeah. Sure. Take out that trash in training, later. But for now you gotta get this outta your head so you can sleep. So…..” I lean in. Eyes canny. “Wreck her at R-Z-B.”

“Red Zero Black?” He blinks. “Mate, like, she totally sucks at that…. game…..”

“She does, huh?” My eyes twinkle. “Go on. Better than hitting each-other, right? Ya still got an hour before kip-time.”

Zip pauses. “Y… really, mate?”

“Go on.” I prompt, a little louder. “Get your own back. Freakin’ humiliate her.”

“Mate, uh, look-” He stutters as Kami’s eyes narrow to dangerous little slits.

“Like he bloody could.” She purrs.

Zipper erupts from his duvet, fists curled. “OH!? Like, you - like, you think so? Huh!?” He yells, spawning a vController in midair and hurling at her. “Come on! Like, Oldschool style! No jacking in! No implant syncing!”

“You’re bloody on!”

And in seconds they’re back to arguing. Only this time about whose cyber-enhanced super-criminal is better at murdering whose. And in what flavour of rocket-powered rainbow-tinted gravity bike.

“Heh. Just kiss already.” I tease, under my breath, from the safety of cyberspace.

“Friction is not a real sign of compatibility.” Notes a sudden, twisting, voice of static in the digital dark. And I turn to frown at Polybius.

“Eh? Back again, Mr ‘Dramatic Vanishing Act’?” I chuckle at the weird amalgam of shapes and symbols behind me.

“I have no physical gender.” The thing states in that endlessly emotionless tone.

“Right.” I shrug, reclining my sketchy neon head on sketchy neon arms. “Yeah, maybe. I still sorta bet they both secretly wanna bloody sneak off an’ make stupid bloody puppy eyes at each-other. Or whatever….”

Silence, and echoes of rain, are my only answer.

Wind rattling at fins on my metal body. Sending shivers up my hull.

“Mmmm….. Weather’s gettin’ spicy, out there….” I stare upward, into the dark, as rain hammers my lenses. “Gotta be the worst storm I’ve ever seen…..”

Not flying was a good idea…..

Silence, once more, and I turn to the Machine. Echoes of clockwork shifting in the void, as images flicker across virtual screens. All of them focused on…. Badger? Looks like Kitty boi is putting him to bed, and fussing over his hair. Actually touching him. And cooing in a play-pretend kind of parental voice.

Something Kami would never allow….

…..if she was paying attention.

“Cute, right?” I hesitate as the ominous machine ticks, quietly, behind me. As always, I get the impression it’s not choosing its words. Rather, it’s deciding how much to tell me….

“You have noticed,” It states, spawning more eyes to stare at me, “that Tufty changes when he thinks nobody is watching?” Images slide through the air to surround me. Framed by that visage of shuddering eyes. “In public, he acts far younger than his real age. Especially with adults, and older teenagers. But with Badger, in private, he adopts your role. He becomes the babysitter and adult.”

“Yeah…..” I mumble, frowning.

“Perhaps he admires you almost as much as Badger does.”

I stare at the scene.

Tufty reading to Badger out of a shining virtual book, with actual pages. Doing all the voices, and gesticulating happily.

I press my claws to the screen, and shiver. “Y’know….. It should be me doing that. For both of em….. Tellin’ em stories. Talkin’ to em. Hugging ‘em goodnight…. and…. Tucking….. Tucking em in….” I grip at the image. Longing and sadness welling up inside me. “Pfff. ‘Stead I’m up here. Seein’ everything, but doing nothing…. Wishing I could be involved, but never actually….”

“You are only the thickness of a chair from them.” The Machine Mind stutters. “Merely an arms-reach away.”

“I know.”

“It would be easy to disconnect. To go over to them.” It continues. And why does it sound like The Devil goading me into a trap....?

"It ain't that easy."

“Is it not?" The thing clicks to itself in the deep dark.

My fangs grit. “No. No it is bloody not......”

It regards me, for a long moment. "These walls are of your own making. You have manufactured them for yourself.”

“Hey. Wonder what story they’re doin’?” I say, loudly, and hit the mic. Though we both know it's an excuse.

“…and, um.... Hansel and Gretel were super clever!” Tufty reads in his most incredulous storybook voice. One visible eyebrow rising steadily. “They knew the.... (Evil Old Witch....?) was going to eat them up! (Somehow?) So they... yikes, wow..... they wired up.... grenades? In The Witch’s pots? And blew her up with landmines? The End!” He barely pauses. “Then Hansel and Gretel leapt out of the window while it was exploding! And then-" He frowns, tilting the book. "Um, wow. They blew it up even more!? Gosh! Where did that howitzer come from?? I mean, um, yes, uh..... So then it rained gingerbread? And everyone cheered, and 'got a bit'! (Um..... who's everyone?) The End.... again!? But for real this time!?” He turns the book sideways, and frowns. "That's.... not actually the end though.....?"

I snort over the intercom, making ‘em both jump. “Hey. Y’sure that’s how that one goes?”

“Yeee! Spook!” Tufty squeaks. “I, um, ah-! Gosh!!”

“YAH! HI SPOOK! Look!” Badger cheers wildly up at my cam - busting from his bomb-themed covers. “LOOK!!! I made my own version! And it’s WAY BETTER! IT’S TOTALLY AWESOME NOW! YEAH! D’you want to hear it!?”

“Haha, I gue-” Is as far as I get before Badger rips the book from Tufty and bursts into full - flailing - narration. Leaping from one fairytale to the next and back - within the space of a sentence - like some mad game of hopscotch. Soon there’s pirates involved - and Jack & Jill are beating the absolute snot outta everybody. ‘Course if you’ve ever heard a nine year old’s take on violence, you know exactly where this is going:

“YEAH!!! AND SHE PUNCHED HIS GUTS RIGHT OUT THOROUGH HIS FACE!!!!!!! AND IT WAS SUPER BRUTAL-AWESOME!!!!!”

“Heh, kid. Does the story gotta be this loud?”

“And then the wolf howled SUPER BIG!! And said he had BIG TEETH!! But Peter Pan swooped down an’ shoved a pipe bomb RIGHT up his-!!!!!”

“Alright, uh - maybe-”

“-and another up his-!!!!”

“BADGER! Bit bloody rude!” I yell through tears of virtual laughter, booping his face with that captured mouse. Without inhabiting it - because I can't. It's now it's his 'teddy', and being that close would...... “You! You’re a national bloody disaster!”

“YEP!! That’s what the news-man said!” Badger nods earnestly. "Specially after the second truck-bomb took out the foundations, and-"

Me and Tufty shudder. “Hah. Yeah….. Don’t remind me, squirt….”

“SURE THING SPOOK!!!” He beams - whole body waggling from side to side in time to whatever crazy-ass musical cartoon-world he lives in. But then he hesitates. “HEEEEY! Uh, Spook!? You, um…. You know what would be SUPER DUPER EXTRA BRUTAL….!?”

He stutters off, suddenly shy, and I swallow. “Go on?”

“Well, um, maybe, it would be cool….. If you came down here, and um, uh, um….” He stops very still, dipping his head and twiddling his thumb. “….maybe….. and then......” The kid tails off into shy mumbling, until his lips are barely moving.

Which ain’t like him at all.

I glance my camera at Tufty, who squirms. Ideas blooming in my head.

Oh no. “Uh. Wh-wh-what was t-that?”

“Right! Right!” Badger hides his face. “Could you, uhhh….. maybe..... tuck us in?”

“Tuck… you… in?” I repeat, getting a tiny mini-nod that fills me with dread - “Oh! Oh…. Um….” I droop my camera slightly. “I mean, you’re already kinda tucked in there…. squirt….”

“Yeah….” Badger looks away. “But not, y’know….”

By Spook.

God. Why…. Why did I turn that mic on?

What was I expecting?

We sit in mute, miserable, silence..... until I realise they’re are waiting for me. And, well….

Maybe I’m waiting for me too….

“It’s…. It’s okay Spook.” Tufty mumbles, clambering out of the little nest. Dragging his void-black unicorn-spackled pillow off to the GMO-proof crate at the back. Climbing in, and shutting it slowly. His eye the last thing to vanish....

Still staring up at me. Still hoping. Still waiting......

But then it shuts. With the click of a lock he can’t open.

“So yeah….” I mutter again, as even Badger wilts.

“Um…. I guess…… Um…." He tries to muster a smile. "Night Spook….!!” Then he yawns and rolls over. Everything quietening down.

And suddenly I’m all alone….

I scan Tufty’s crate, then engage the alarms. Not so much to stop him, as Badger - who seems to be going through a ‘Midnight Hijinks’ phase. Then I engage locks and defences on The Night Tyrant itself, and set up the security ring. Darkening the bird, until all that remains is the lightless - virtual - glow from Kami and Zip. Who don't even need their eyes open to play that game.

Finally, I yank the jack out of my skull. Huddling up in the chair with a duvet Badger dumped on my head….

Just me again. Not the ship.

Suddenly alone, in the empty dark.

And lost. So very lost......

So close to them all, yet so far from everyone. With only the rain and wind blasting away at our armoured hull….

It's so peaceful, and sad, and I listen to it hammer for a long long time. Picking bits of fluff of my chair as the storm rocks the hull….

Gently…. Like a cradle….

A message icon blips across my vision, but I wave it aside. Another hits me right after - and they keep bloody coming. The digital git. He knows he can annoy his way in, and he does - so I give up, and stab the icon with a finger…. The last message popping up, right as I mute the dings.

## Polybius >> He won’t be nine forever.

I fold in on myself - foundations imploding, walls collapsing…. I don’t bloody read the rest. I don’t have to. I don’t scream either. Or shout. Or launch missiles at the stupid pirate tower, and watch the whole thing burn…..

But I do start crying.

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