Phanya couldn't believe their horrible luck. She had finally, finally convinced Ms. Uxral to try opening up their own secret mining operation, and they were both so wrapped up in planning that they forgot today was tax day. Now Zero was hurt and they were all going to pay, and Phanya couldn't help but blame herself for the slipup. Gotta do better, gotta keep ahead.
The elders agreed that the best way forward was for the town to combine Rethar's funeral services and the fund drive into one event. The idea tasted bitter to everyone involved, but it also would have felt unfair to disperse Rethar's wealth like normal and then turn right around and re-collect everything that wasn't absolutely needed. Phanya, a little too eager to make amends, was ready to run straight back to Rethar's home to start collecting goods, only stopping at Ms. Uxral's stern urging that she at least wait for a few trusted adults to accompany her. They had to be briefed on the new mine shaft, which took precious time, but they could at least help push the large trailer and ensure that Phanya didn't overexert herself.
The only reason Ricky didn't accompany them was because he was nowhere to be found. Tapper reached the teen proprietor first and explained his immediate need for repairs, which Ricky jumped on with equal urgency. He led the robot back to the hideout in which it had first awoken and pulled out a metal box as Tapper laid down on the floor. The box was full of every usable tool that Ricky collected over the years — hammers, pliers, a couple wrenches of random sizes, even a blowtorch. The blowtorch's terms of service had long expired, but he hoped to one day learn how to make his own. For now, all he could do was his best.
Ricky wedged open Tapper's access panel and breathed a sigh of relief. The small computer interface, the pneumatic struts that handled movement, and the microgenerator were all way outside of Ricky's capacity to repair but they all appeared undamaged. The dents in his torso actually seemed mostly cosmetic, but at Tapper's insistence Ricky grabbed a small hammer and began the long, difficult process of gently tapping out the dents from the inside.
The process was actually surprisingly meditative once the shock wore off, not unlike when he would slowly hammer metal scrap into figures and toys for the other kids, so Ricky quickly fell into a trance of gentle tapping. He did love working with metal, the way it could be both such a sturdy material but also malleable under the correct conditions resonated with the young man in the strangest way. Or maybe it was just because Ricky had spent so many days imagining all the things they could do with metal, if only he had the correct tools. Even a cursory glance at Tapper's inner workings was giving him ideas, like welds that were starting to come undone and areas he could reinforce to keep the little robot from getting dented again.
One of the most interesting bits of literature that Ricky had ever found was an advertisement on the Hyperweld from Duponic Industries, which could fuse materials down at the subatomic level. Hand above, all the things he could do with one of those! The construction possabilities alone were endless, everyone could have a proper home instead of living in shacks held together with wire.
Or maybe it was just because he was still trying to find the best way to help Fableton. Ricky was right in that awkward age where he was too old to play dug-a-bug with the younger kids and too young to resign himself to working at the recycling facility or the mines for the rest of his life. He really didn't want to do either and all of the older adults have stressed that there were plenty of other ways to contribute — Wiessa was allowed to spend all day every day trying to turn plants into free food despite no success yet, and Grandbag Bristol was constantly weaving plastic bags into rope that was used for just about anything. But without proper tools, there was only so much Ricky could do without feeling like a freeloader.
The sun sat just above the junk dunes when they finished, waiting to tell Ricky just how badly he had lost track of time, and he tried to sneak them both back into town. But he was still lost in his thoughts, and caught entirely unawares when Tapper suddenly spoke up. Ricky didn't jump at Tapper, but he might've jumped just a little bit when Ms. Uxral answered his greeting.
She graciously pretended not to notice and explained that Phanya and the others had returned with all of Rethar's belongings, so they were going to hold the funeral for him soon. But, she continued explaining that they needed to raise some funds quickly after the incident with Zero.
Ms. Uxral looked Ricky up and down — covered in an obscuring layer of tools, bags, and hanging knick knacks that they forgot to leave at the hideout — and very pointedly said that nothing was worthy of taking to sell. Except maybe this tablet here, the only thing it contained was a catalog over a decade old and she knew that Ricky had already memorized every word of it. Ricky gave a noncommittal shrug to hide his internal wince, the Hyperweld that tablet described would always live on in his dreams and this was for the good of the town.
Ricky joined everyone that wasn't at work, gathering in the street before the warehouse to form a loose ring around a trailer. The trailer itself was just a simple metal platform with low walls and small wheels, but it was the largest functioning trailer that Fableton had. What the town did not have was its own vehicle to pull it, but thankfully a mercenary happened to be passing by with a car and a reasonable price tag. Their vehicle and its overlapping armored plates looked like a pillbug on wheels, but it tugged along the little trailer and its towering heap of Rethar's belongings.
Bulging bags piled high and threatened to spill over, held in place with generous amounts of braided plastic rope, and in front of the trailer Phanya and several other adults were taking a break. All of them were slick with sweat and downing bottles of water, it looked like they had been doing hard labor all afternoon and gratefully stepped aside when Ms. Uxral started to direct the proceedings.
The setup didn't take long, every month it seemed that someone was lost to a collapsing mine tunnel or faulty recycling machinery so everyone knew the traditions. The crowd was everyone in town that could possibly attend, regardless of their relation to the deceased. Even complete strangers would show up if they could afford it, and so the crowd was always a loose and informal mingling of small talk about the departed's achievements. At some point a large ball would be introduced, patched and re-patched so often that no one remembers what it originally looked like, and tossed into the crowd. Anyone that caught the ball would announce something of value that the departed brought into the world and the crowd would respond with praise, and then the ball would get randomly passed to someone else.
Below that revelry a second, more somber procession was also being held. Anyone that had any real stories about the deceased would bring their own bottles of alcohol into the crowd, passing out drinks and telling their tales just to the immediate attendees. These stories would travel just as far as the declarations, sometimes further, only they'd also grow and mutate as whispered rumors. Finally, a lone tablet would be passed through the entire gathering, allowing anyone to anonymously donate leave hours to the family of the dead.
Except, Rethar didn't have any family. And the reading of the contract didn't indicate anyone to inherit his own saved leave hours, so it defaulted to the base contract and every person in Fableton received an equal share of his hours. A surprising share of hours at that, and whole new rumors suddenly sprang to life regarding Rethar's wealth of leave and what he had been saving up for. Ms. Uxral quickly stood up and shushed them back down, reminding everyone that on top of this tragedy, they were also faced with the difficulty of additional debt with the miners. So while redistribution of wealth will still happen, anything that doesn't get claimed will immediately get sent to the recycling facility for reclamation. The profit margins for selling to the recycling facility were awful, but also one of the fastest ways to raise funds for Fableton.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The energy of the crowd quickly shifted as Ms. Uxral spoke. An equal claim to the unwilled were sometimes seen as the one silver lining to these funerals by some, and there were definitely some grumblings on just settling the debt by giving the miners the robot that caused all this. But no one formally called for a counteroffer, so the crowd that broke off and approached the loaded trailer was much smaller than normal. Some even had to be encouraged inward, like Grandbag Bristol, practically pushed forward to claim the electric scooter that everyone knew he both needed and earned.
At the end a little under half of the hoard was claimed. The mercenary never left his pillbug car during the proceedings, claiming that he had already been paid. Tomorrow anyone working at the recycling facility will sneak in small bits of the haul and add it to the queue of good salvage, and any reclamation profits will get paid to the town fund directly. It won't be enough, surprise debts with the mine always seem to be just a bit more costly than what they actually have, but it would help a great deal. For now there was just the grief, the guilt, the curiosity, and the celebration of Rethar.
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Phanya knew it wasn't going to be enough. She knew this because this was punishment for her trying to capitalize on Rethar's death, and no matter how much she justified it Phanya knew that on some level she had just gotten greedy. It was always bad luck to bet on the Phase, and the instant she even thought of profiting off the new tunnel there was suddenly a new debt to pay. And just like all the scary stories, of course Phanya could see no way out except to use the curse of this bad deal to escape it.
Every spare moment that she could find had Phanya sneaking off to the mine entrance, often dragging Tapper along to haul trash if the robot wasn't busy obsessively brewing his 'magic potions.' There was so much for her to do, from setting up safety structures to hold up the tunnel and hiding the entrance. The latter was something Phanya could do with ease, but she didn't know the first thing about engineering. No one that she would trust with this knew, except for Ricky. She didn't want to involve him, but she also knew just how hurt he would feel if she didn't come to him for exactly this sort of problem…
The young woman was so lost in her stressful musings that she almost didn't notice the smoke column one morning. A single thin line of multicolored smoke acted as a beacon, drawing the eye down to see the long dark vehicle that it was connected to. No! It had only been two weeks, they should've had more time! Phanya cursed herself blue as she pushed her way to the front of the crowd, just as the limo stopped in front of the warehouse and lowered onto its grav rails.
The first person to step out of the long car was the driver, a rail-thin reptilian that scrambled to open the rear passenger door. The second man was comfortably overweight in his late middle-aged years and wore a suit that at least attempted coherent style, and the crowd fell silent for a brief moment. It was somehow easy to forget that the owner of the mining operation was an amalgam of barely over two feet tall. It was easy to forget that he rode on a personal hoverchair, or that his hands were webbed, or that the pupils of his eyes were the wrong blobby shape.
Somehow, Mr. Belvidere always managed to appear in memory as just the friendly grandpa that helped hook you up with that job. This image quickly reasserted itself and the crowd closed in, reaching to shake his hand and thank the man for all the work he brought to Fableton. The older man was happy to react, nodding to those that couldn't reach him and making small talk as he moved through the crowd. Once he crossed the threshold into the warehouse the fans quickly thinned, the last few hangers-on muttering their thanks before scurrying out into the open. Even though the loading doors stayed open to expose the entire interior, all the normal townsfolk had received the unspoken instruction to give some space. The adults needed to talk.
Mr. Belvidere was the first one to talk, nodding his head in polite greeting. "Sophia, it's been too long. I see your little town project is still thriving, warms my heart to see a fellow entrepreneur enjoy the fruits of their labor."
"Yes thank you Mr. Belvidere, always happy when we can work toward mutual growth." Ms. Uxral was calm and measured, cool bordering on icy. She stood in the middle of the warehouse floor, tables and chairs already cleared aside for her and a handful of trusted adults. Tapper was there too, and Phanya darted to the side where she joined Ricky in a hidden nook among the stalls.
The two immediately launched into a whispered argument on where the hell they've been, and what the hell was going on. Missing your sibling for even a day can take precedence over common sense, and the two forgot how much danger they were in until Ms. Uxral's voice suddenly took on an edge. "Alright, enough with the niceties. We hurt one of yours, and on behalf of Fableton I am ready to pay reparations. How much?"
The little man heaved a heavy sigh, the dramatic motion causing his hoverchair to bobble. "Sophia, why so clinical? You know each of my employees are invaluable."
The feline woman rolled her slitted eyes and flicked a large coin in his direction. One of the lackeys caught it and verified the amount of funds on it. They all knew how much was on it before they even arrived, this was more to verify that any hadn't been hidden away. Somehow they always knew, but this is how the dance had taken shape. The head miner would think on it, then they'd haggle —
"Oh I'm touched, but this is far too much money!" Ms. Uxral almost choked at the words, Belvidere never asked for less money than they offered. He swiped a hand over the coin and it was sent flipping back with half of its money still present, and in the stunned silence his demeanor took a darker turn. "That's the money part, at least. You find yourself a robot to give you some free labor and you don't tell me? And then that robot goes and hurts one of my toys. It hurt his feelings, and after you fed through my hand? That hurts my feelings, Sophia." Everyone on Fableton's side of the crowd flinched at his words, but Belvidere continued unbidden. "Now, I know it was actually your gate guard that shot him, but that's just medicine and money. Plus, I would never raise a hand against one of our vets." The boss nodded at Struzick and the elder man visibly deflated with relief.
Instead, Belvidere just raised a hand and the gathering of lackeys split to make way for one figure. It was a robot, although so heavily modified that it was impossible to determine what its original function was beneath the terms of service violations. Now it was a lumbering beast, an oversized barrel chest supported two heavy industrial arms and two separate pairs of legs had been fused together to make it a sort of awkward centaur. The head was little more than a mishmash of cameras and sensor with a mining helmet welded on top so it didn't have a face to emote, but you always got the feeling that it was glaring at you.
"Don't forget that I have toys of my own, Sophia. Drillbot!" Nothing happened, and Belvidere pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe you all kept that stupid name. Drillbert!" Now the robot snapped to attention, drawing itself to a head taller than anyone in either crowd. "Tear their little robot to pieces."
Everyone froze, including the robot in question, and Belvidere glared at his employees in a way that said without words how annoyed he was about losing the big dramatic moment. One of the lackeys stepped forward and cleared his throat, speaking with slow and exaggerated pronunciation, "Ah, Drillbert, mine the internal components out of that robot." Without missing a beat the mining robot responded, both of its hands folding into themselves to form pointed cones that started to spin until they were just blurs pointed right at the bartender.
The initial delay is the only thing that saved Tapper from being obliterated right there and then. Most of the witnesses were still frozen with shock, but by the time Drillbert started to lumber forward the young proprietors had managed to shake themselves awake. Ricky and Phanya both came charging out of their hiding place to full-force tackle Drillbert, and even though the two humans together didn't outweigh the machine they still had the advantage of leverage. Drillbert was very top-heavy and its mismatched legs had an awkward gait, so when the two grabbed different feet and heaved they were just barely able to topple the mining automaton.
The loud crash as it fell finally spurred everyone else into motion. Miners moved to grab the kids and Fableton reps rushed to stop the miners, leading to an awkward tangle as everyone also tried to avoid the spinning drill hands that were randomly tearing gauges into the floor. Everything was clashing noise and flailing limbs and confusion, until one voice finally broke through:
"Tapper, run! Just get away from Drillbert, that's an order!"
[New Quest: What's Mine Isn't Mined
Escape from the mining bot]