Editor's Note: This has been done for awhile, and while I originally felt that I should have added something to it, I just now had a revelation that the ending was alright as is. Enjoy, and sorry about the wait! E.D.
Chapter VIII
"How do you know this?" Sarah asked.
"I don't for sure. But the head looks almost identical to what Rob's looked like, and the voice is identical. My guess is they replaced the chassis, changed his movement mode and made him more of a warbot. With the proper tools…" He twitched his arm and a Philips screwdriver popped out of his sweater sleeve. "…I might be able to confirm my theory."
A double clicking sound Bob's hand arm, which had lost the hand and was replaced at the wrist with what resembled a blaster cannon, was aimed at Eric's face.
"Don't Count On It. Scumbag."
"Or not." Eric put the screwdriver away and Bob lowered his arm. Jack went to the back cabins to look for anything left to them and Eric and Sarah sat down as Bob went back into the bridge.
"So what do you think of that Jack dude?" Eric asked.
"I don't know… I only really heard him and you complaining last night, and a little bit of you explaining our last outage here…" A long and uncomfortable silence. "You didn't tell him about…" she pointed to her armband.
"James and Vixy? I never got that far. I just kind of explained an adventure, the bare-bones part, and how I got here. Besides, how do you explain something like that?"
The sound of a door closing. Eric cocked an eyebrow, and Sarah called into the back. "Jack?"
For awhile, no answer. No sooner did Eric take a step forward, though, then, Jack's voice called out from one of the bedrooms. "I've been looking though some of the stuff in here. Apparently, they expect things to get nasty. They've got my gun here. I don't suppose you two have any weaponry?" He asked.
"I didn't know it was possible to miss em," Eric said.
"What in blazes do you mean by- HOLY HELL!" Jack cried.
"And we may never know…" Eric said, a tone of mourning in his voice.
"What do you have in these?" Jack said, walking in, Murasma in one hand, Beamstriker in the other.
"Magic." Eric said plainly.
Jack glared at Eric. "Seriously. I don't know how this got made, but talk about efficient kerosene management. My advice though, is to turn it off every now and then. Save the juice."
Eric glared at Jack and snatched Murasma and the scabbard, but before he could get a word out Sarah interrupted. "Jack, we know this looks weird, but this is not your home dimension, is it not?" Jack nodded. "Is it so hard to understand that in another dimension, magic might exist?"
Jack put his hand on his chin and furrowed his brow, as if in deep thinking. "I… suppose…" Eric gave Sarah a look that he hoped made him look triumphant and telling Sarah thanks. "Uh…" Jack was scratching his head, still trying to convince himself what a lifetime of scientific teaching taught was fake was, in fact, real. "Um… we'll call that a temporary explanation…"
"Either way, it doesn't look like they have very much faith in a victory via diplomacy," Sarah commented. "If they did, they wouldn't have returned specifically OUR weapons."
"We really are screwed, aren't we?" Jack muttered.
"Aw, buck up, Jack. Show some of that French Revolutionary spirit!" Eric said with bravado, and then doubled over in giggles.
"Does he get like this often?" Jack said, annoyed and jerking his thumb in Eric's direction.
"Only when he gets really bored," Sarah sighed.
"Hey, what's that doohickey do?" Eric said, after easing out of his laughter fit and pointing at what looked like a dark black pistol, with an extremely narrow barrel and various lights adorning the part of the gun above the handle.
"This?…" Jack said, holding it up. "Well, my father had an adventure awhile back. Brought this home as a souvenir, then passed it on to me."
"Looks kind of small," Eric commented.
"Well, it's not the size," Jack said, grinning. "It's how you use it."
"And I'm sure Katt would say the same?" Eric said, rotating his pelvis.
"That's enough!"
Upon further inspection of the ship, all they found were a battery charger, a change of clothes each, although none of them fit any of the passengers on the ship, another set of baggier clothes that looked like stereotypical desert wear that wasn't quite so uncomfortable, and about a weeks worth of ham, bread and water for three people. Sarah explained the mission and the days passed uneventfully, but right when they were about to get into landing range of Allahor, Bob's alarm went off.
"Warning. Spontaneus Engine Failure. Computer suggestions: Brace for impact."
"Fuck, the mana level's fuckin' with the electronics!" Eric cried out.
"What?!" Jack yelled, grabbing onto the bolted-down furniture. A higher and higher pitched whining from the engines could be heard as the ship plummeted, faster and faster. Some of the lighter things around the room, like pillows and the odd potato chip bag started floating.
"Fifteen seconds to impact." Maybe it was the effect of the G's at falling at such a speed, but Bob's speech seemed to be slowing down and slurring.
Sarah looked around, wedging herself in between the doorframe leading into her room. Time seemed to slow down as she looked at Jack and Eric, each bracing themselves in their own way. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears, as the warning blared in the ship.
"Five seconds…"
An unexpected jolt of turbulence unlodged Eric from where he lay, holding on to a protrusion of the wall seemingly intended for use as a chair. He skidded over to where Sarah lay and held on to her.
"Rrroun Sekond…"
"Sarah? Eric? Jésus Doux, Sarah?"
Sarah opened her eyes and was greeted by a migraine-like pounding in her head. The took several deep breaths as the room stopped spinning. "Nngh…" She moaned as memory of the incident came back to her. "You okay, Jack?"
"I think so," Jack said. "I just woke up."
"Any idea what happened?" Sarah asked.
"I don't know," Jack admitted. "Eric said some crazy merde right before we crashed."
"Eric!" Sarah jumped up, suddenly remembering. "Is he okay?"
"He's still out cold," Jack said, looking at Eric.
"Is he…?"
"No," Jack responded. "I took his pulse. He's down, but not out."
"I guess there's nothing to do now but wait," Sarah said. "Bob, are the sensers still working?"
No response. "Bob?" They looked over and saw Bob, standing upright, all joints stationary, and the lights that looked like eyes were out.
"Man, everything's being destroyed! Look, my digital watch is replaying the scores to last year's Super Bowl," Jack complained.
"Chicago Fire. 1. Las Angeles Elementals. 1. Tie game," Bob droned. The light that may have passed for a mouth was blinking, but the eye-lights stayed off.
"And now Bob is making up team names and scores," Jack added.
"That's weird, my analog watch is still fine," Sarah mused.
At this moment, Eric woke up. "Eric! You're okay!" Sarah cried out, throwing her arms around him. Eric, still recovering from the pounding headache, was hardly aware of the gesture and grumbled something that sounded like "What happened?"
"We crashed. All the electronics either shut down or malfunctioned," Jack said, jerking his thumb in Bob's direction as Sarah pulled away.
"Well, we'd better get moving," Sarah said, helping Eric to his feet. "Pepper said we were supposed to be looking for some people Eclipse looked for, right?"
"Uh…" Eric said groggily, rubbing his head.
"Yeah. So we're bound to run into them at some point in time, right?"
"Excuse me?" Jack butted in.
"Hmn?" Sarah responded. Eric cocked an eyebrow.
"You're widely optimistic. This is a friggin' planet! Whatever you're looking for could be on the entire other side!"
"We still have to go…" Eric said quietly.
"I agree. At the very least, there might be somebody out there who could give us directions."
"Directions? Pff," Jack scoffed. "Okay, okay. SOMEBODY has to go along to be a voice of friggin' reason here." Jack grumbled.
"Glad you approve," Eric said smugly.
Sarah went into their rooms and got their desert gear for them, and after a little trouble forcing the door to open; they left Bob in the ship for the sandy unknown.
Meanwhile, back at the Shroud Residence…
"Hey, Steve? Do you know where-" Marie called, then stopped short. Looking down at the floor, talon-indentations in the thick carpet were going downstairs.
A grunt coming from downstairs. Marie gut clenched. The reunion was over and most of the guests had gone home, but for some reason, Tina and Sam were still over…
"Mr. Lombardi?" Falco started limping faster.
"Steve!" Marie called. Marie dashed down the stairs. Falco unable to keep up, tripped onto the couch and grunted in pain.
"Are you okay?" Marie asked.
"Where am I?" Falco asked.
"Do you remember Eric Shroud? He mentioned you a bit..."
"Eric? What about him? Where am I?" Falco demanded.
"You're in his house. He found you badly beaten and brought you here," Marie explained.
"But you're... human... why?"
"Pardon me?" Marie asked, baffled.
"Why would one of you help one of us?"
"I'm not sure what you're talking about, you need to lay down... Eric helped you before, right?"
"Yeah..." Marie started helping Falco to his feet. Steve showed up and gave Falco an additional shoulder.
"So I'm in... Eric's house?" Falco asked.
"Yeah," Steve said.
Falco furrowed his brow, although it may have been from pain as opposed to difficult thinking. After a long pause, he uttered, "Thanks."
Steve helped Falco into the bed while Maria went to get some extra food and drink. As soon as Falco's head touched the pillows, he heard a voice.
"So." Steve looked over his shoulder.
It was Tina, and she was not happy to see him.
"Now, Tina, I can explain…" Steve said sharply.
"Your explanations are unnecessary, Steve," She replied, just as coldly. "I know what he is. I demand to know what you are doing associated with one."
"That's my business. You stay out of it."
Tina's eyes narrowed to slits, but said nothing, almost for fear of revealing too much. She turned and walked out the door, and Steve could almost feel the heat coming from her hateful gaze.
Steve sighed with worry. He turned back to look at Falco. If it wasn't for his chest rising, he would have mistaken the avian to have passed away right behind his back, but his expression was an unusual complacent, as if the recent news of his friends' return had been enough to ease his soul.
