THE AMAZING, INCREDIBLE, MIND-BOGGLING ADVENTURES OF TABLE-HEADED SERVICE DRONE BOB!
Part Thirteen: You couldn't have thought that sooner?
Chak had been taken back to her cell. She was sitting dead still on the bunk, barely comprehending what was going on. Why did she even care for him? She wouldn't have lifted a finger for anyone else. But Bob wasn't like anyone else. He actually made an effort to be a friend to her. Not the type of 'friendship' people usually asked for back at her bar, or more often demanded, but genuine companionship, a feeling that he genuinely cared for her well-being. Which was funny since it was more often her helping him, but deep down she knew that he would've done the same for her.
The cell door opened, and Bob was dragged back inside by the guard. His eyes were wide open, but there was no life behind them, as if he was one of the waking dead. There were deep, bleeding punctures around the circumference of his head. Chak almost broke down at the sight of him, but didn't waste any time in running towards him. The guard placed Bob in her arms.
"Make sure he gets plenty of rest," cautioned the guard, "the quacks may want him again in a while, and we can't interrogate a corpse." On that happy note, he left the cell, shutting the door behind him. Chak cradled Bob, trying to find some sign of consciousness in him.
"Bob!? BOB!? Don't do this to me, Bob, DON'T DO THIS!" Chak cried, "I NEED you Bob! I can't get out of this place without you and you're....you're the only person I've ever trusted..." Bob began to gurgle and slowly rotate his head from left to right, blinked, then leaned over and vomited on the floor.
"Ugh....I don't feel good sir, can I have the day off today?" said Bob, showing definite signs of life, though little in the way of coherence.
"BOB!" Chak yelled, utterly relieved, "Bob! You're all-right!" Bob immediately responded to this piece of information as perception finally managed to respond to his senses.
"Do I LOOK all-right!?" Bob complained, coughing slightly, which only managed to bring another round of vomiting, "My brainmeats feel like they've been spliced. Shit, they HAVE been spliced! And it STILL doesn't look like Larb has what he wants..."
"You can't survive another round of that!" Chak argued, "you're barely alive now! Think of what another hour in that chair will do to you!" Bob was not in the mood to disagree. Though he WAS in the mood to vomit some more. The floor of the cell was now a sickly shade of yellow, with several chunks of Bob's meals for the past couple of days.
"We have to get out of here!" Bob argued, "but I don't know how! It's not as if we can just jump the guards or anything, they seem to be more intelligent than your average grunt." Chak thought back to things Bob told her before.
"You're good at electronics and technical stuff, right?" Chak asked.
"Yeah, but what's that got to do with anything?" asked Bob in reply. As an answer, Chak walked over to the cell door and pulled a panel from beside it, revealing a mass of wiring.
"Do the math!" Chak yelled at Bob, now getting annoyed that he didn't seem to have recognised that his talents would have come in VERY handy over the past few days. Bob, however, was still non-committal.
"Chak, my brain's have been put through the blender," argued Bob, "I don't think I'm really capable of handling complex technical problems." Chak, still annoyed dragged Bob over to the panel and stuck his hands in it.
"SORT IT OUT!" yelled Chak, almost on the verge of apologising for being so insensitive, but she forced it back, now was not the time to be caring and considerate. Bob, staring at Chak with a look of silent resignation, began fiddling with the wires. A spark from the panel signified that his efforts had succeeded, and the cell door opened beside them...
TO BE CONTINUED...
Part Thirteen: You couldn't have thought that sooner?
Chak had been taken back to her cell. She was sitting dead still on the bunk, barely comprehending what was going on. Why did she even care for him? She wouldn't have lifted a finger for anyone else. But Bob wasn't like anyone else. He actually made an effort to be a friend to her. Not the type of 'friendship' people usually asked for back at her bar, or more often demanded, but genuine companionship, a feeling that he genuinely cared for her well-being. Which was funny since it was more often her helping him, but deep down she knew that he would've done the same for her.
The cell door opened, and Bob was dragged back inside by the guard. His eyes were wide open, but there was no life behind them, as if he was one of the waking dead. There were deep, bleeding punctures around the circumference of his head. Chak almost broke down at the sight of him, but didn't waste any time in running towards him. The guard placed Bob in her arms.
"Make sure he gets plenty of rest," cautioned the guard, "the quacks may want him again in a while, and we can't interrogate a corpse." On that happy note, he left the cell, shutting the door behind him. Chak cradled Bob, trying to find some sign of consciousness in him.
"Bob!? BOB!? Don't do this to me, Bob, DON'T DO THIS!" Chak cried, "I NEED you Bob! I can't get out of this place without you and you're....you're the only person I've ever trusted..." Bob began to gurgle and slowly rotate his head from left to right, blinked, then leaned over and vomited on the floor.
"Ugh....I don't feel good sir, can I have the day off today?" said Bob, showing definite signs of life, though little in the way of coherence.
"BOB!" Chak yelled, utterly relieved, "Bob! You're all-right!" Bob immediately responded to this piece of information as perception finally managed to respond to his senses.
"Do I LOOK all-right!?" Bob complained, coughing slightly, which only managed to bring another round of vomiting, "My brainmeats feel like they've been spliced. Shit, they HAVE been spliced! And it STILL doesn't look like Larb has what he wants..."
"You can't survive another round of that!" Chak argued, "you're barely alive now! Think of what another hour in that chair will do to you!" Bob was not in the mood to disagree. Though he WAS in the mood to vomit some more. The floor of the cell was now a sickly shade of yellow, with several chunks of Bob's meals for the past couple of days.
"We have to get out of here!" Bob argued, "but I don't know how! It's not as if we can just jump the guards or anything, they seem to be more intelligent than your average grunt." Chak thought back to things Bob told her before.
"You're good at electronics and technical stuff, right?" Chak asked.
"Yeah, but what's that got to do with anything?" asked Bob in reply. As an answer, Chak walked over to the cell door and pulled a panel from beside it, revealing a mass of wiring.
"Do the math!" Chak yelled at Bob, now getting annoyed that he didn't seem to have recognised that his talents would have come in VERY handy over the past few days. Bob, however, was still non-committal.
"Chak, my brain's have been put through the blender," argued Bob, "I don't think I'm really capable of handling complex technical problems." Chak, still annoyed dragged Bob over to the panel and stuck his hands in it.
"SORT IT OUT!" yelled Chak, almost on the verge of apologising for being so insensitive, but she forced it back, now was not the time to be caring and considerate. Bob, staring at Chak with a look of silent resignation, began fiddling with the wires. A spark from the panel signified that his efforts had succeeded, and the cell door opened beside them...
TO BE CONTINUED...