Chapter XIX
"What's the secret password?"
Rivet shares a look with Klunk, and then Pierre, the latter of whom shakes his head. Felton stands directly in front of the door, lowering his large first after having banged on the slightly scorched metal.
"Come on, don't make me say it."
"Ya don't say it, I don't open this door," Bob retorts loudly. Rivet can very faintly hear one of Courtney Gears' songs playing somewhere inside the shop.
Felton heaves a sigh, and Rivet's lips curve into a slightly frown at his next words. "'All hail Bob the Conqueror…'"
"C'mon, ya ain't done yet."
"'The glory of his level-twenty Spellcaster—'"
"Oookay, that's it," Rivet cuts him off, tele-equipping her FissionMallet and getting ready to swing. "I'm busting down that door."
"Wait, hold on!" Bob's shrill voice stops Rivet just short of striking the door. The song that's playing squelches to a halt. "Just a sec…"
The door wooshes open, revealing a small alien who Rivet notes to have a slight resemblance to Al from Kerwan. His head is larger than the rest of his body, not unlike a bobble-head figure.
"I know you two!" Bob exclaims excitedly, jiggling his feet and clapping his hands. "I've been followin' the two a' ya all over the news since ya saved Novalis and stopped the attack on Kerwan! C'mon inside, tell me whatcha need!"
He climbs over his worktable as Rivet and Klunk follow him inside. The young Lombax looks around, taking in the surrounding clutter. Lots of tools, open half-empty toolboxes, and random machine parts strewn everywhere. Kinda like home, she thinks. A pang of longing punches her right in the gut as she thinks of Veldin.
"We need something to get past that weird lock by the fighter garage," Rivet explains, shaking her head quickly. "Got anything that might help?"
She turns her gaze back onto Bob, who's staring at Klunk with an odd expression, arms crossed.
"What?" Klunk asks in thinly veiled annoyance when he looks over at the engineer and sees he's staring. "Have I something on my face, or is it customary for you squishies to stare at other people for no reason?"
"Sorry, pal, it's just—" Bob scoffs. "I rekanize that work." He gestures to Klunk, who simply narrows his eyes in his growing irritation. "Ya'll been to see Big Al, ain'tcha?"
"Yeah, he installed the heli-pack," Rivet tells him.
"I kin see that," Bob retorts, snorting. "I taught that idjit brother of mine everythang he knows!" He adds with a grumble, "'Course he got to meet the two a' ya 'fore I could." He then speaks up as he tells the duo, "Look, if ya want some real hardware, I kin fix this little guy up with a thruster-pack! It's got a sick power-slam move built right in that'll get ya past that lock."
"I am not a 'little guy,'" Klunk retorts indignantly, crossing his arms and glaring even more.
"Wouldja prefer 'tiny feller' instead?"
"If I am a 'little guy,'" Klunk goes on, ignoring Bob's quip, "then you are a 'Little Bob.'"
Rivet gives him a mild bump on the shoulder with her hand. "Klunk," she starts with a note of warning. "Do we need to have a talk about—" Bob bursts out laughing. Rivet and Klunk share a puzzled look before turning their attention back onto the giggling engineer in front of them.
"Believe it or not—" Bob struggles to speak between his chuckles. "— I actually tried to get that nickname to stick a couple a times. Didn't work. Third times the charm, I s'pose. Alright, now c'mere, little guy. Let's get that thruster-pack ready to go."
"There we are!" Little Bob lowers his screwdriver with an air of finality. "Better'n new!"
Rivet sends a smile and a pair of fingerguns Klunk's way. "Looking good there, bolts!" Klunk shrugs the wings of his new thruster-pack before hopping down from the worktable.
As Rivet lifts her partner up and attaches him to her magnetic mount, Little Bob adds, "If ya'll ever drop by planet Hoven, ya should stop by my sister Ed's place! She'd love to meet the two a' ya!"
Rivet nods with a small smile and gives a wave. "Thanks! And will do!"
"Okay," Rivet mutters as she slips on the helmet the Plumber had given her back on Novalis. She flips a few switches, and the engines hum softly to life. She looks over at her partner, who's buckling up for the ride.
The seatbelt is way too big for him, and she chuckles lightly in amusement, earning a glare from the crimson-eyed robot himself.
"What are you laughing at?"
Rivet snorts, forcing her bubbling giggles down. "Ehh, nothing. You ready partner?"
"As ready as I will ever be," Klunk answers, focusing his gaze on the jet fighter's sensors as the vessel in question rises up off the floor.
Rivet smirks and pushes down on a lever. The jet shoots forward quickly, and she pulls down on the steering. The nose tilts up, and the slim burgundy hunk of metal zips up into the sky, glinting against the sun. She directs the jet fighter towards the nearest hydro-harvester and slams her thumbs down on the twin red buttons atop the steering.
Four missiles, two on either side, burst from the carapace underneath the vessel and lock onto the hydro-harvester. Each one strikes a different container of water, shattering the crystal holding it and sending the water splashing back into the ocean below. She presses her fingers against the green buttons just in front of the red ones, releasing a spray of bullets on the three Blarg fighters that zip into view, firing at them.
Rivet whirls the steering, and the jet spins through the sky, weaving away from the enemy fire.
She smashes her thumbs against the red buttons again, and four more missiles soar through the air, striking the remaining tanks of water along with the head of the harvester and consuming them with violent balls of fire.
Rivet tips the jet up, soaring high into the sky, grazing a few low-hanging clouds, as the few remaining Blarg fighters continue to fire. She tilts the vessel down, zig-zagging between the mountains jutting out around the resort. She catches the sound of a couple satisfactory explosions behind the jet and smirks.
"Blarg fighters no longer in pursuit," Klunk announces.
Rivet nods, pressing her foot down on the booster and launching the jet forward, heading straight for the next hydro-harvester. She barrel rolls the jet as two Blarg fighters zip towards the flying contraption and start firing. Slamming her thumbs down again, the jet fighter launches four more missiles— all but one targeting the hydro-harvester's tanks. The last one decides to lock onto a Blarg fighter. Both tanks and the fighter explode into a violent sphere of tickly flames.
"We are all out of missiles," Klunk announces.
"Hmm…" Rivet swiftly performs a U-turn with the jet fighter, much to her partner's bewilderment.
"Rivet, what are you doing?"
"I've got an idea!" Rivet slows the ship down, just enough to let the Blarg fighters keep up with her as she weaves back and forth between their super-charged bullets. "We might not have missiles, but we've got some pretty terrible pilots back there— just need to make sure we blast off fast enough…"
Klunk tilts his head in confusion, tapping his chin. His eyes widen with the realization. "I understand what you intend to do now."
Rivet twirls the ship around, smashing her foot against the pedal and shooting forward. The Blarg fighters take a second, the pilots no doubt positively bewildered, and then promptly turn around to follow. At the last second, just before she can collide with the harvester, Rivet yanks on the steering, whipping the nose of the jet fighter up and zipping high into the clouds.
The Blarg fighters smash into the hydro-harvester, splashing a fireworks display against the sky.
"Yeah!" Rivet fist-pumps, smirking triumphantly. She looks over at Klunk and holds out her hand. He stares at it in puzzlement. "This is the part where you slap me five, bolts," she tells him, chuckling lightly.
"Slap you five…?"
"Seriously?" Rivet, raising an eyebrow, settles her hand back onto the steering and turns the jet around— blasting off towards the last hydro-harvester. "You know what 'poser' means, but you don't know what 'slap me five' means?"
"You hush," Klunk retorts, crossing his arms and harumphing. "I am still the smartest person in this vessel."
Rivet rolls her eyes, shaking her head in amusement.
Rivet shuts off the jet's engines as soon as it touches down on the floor in the garage. She clambers out first, Klunk following closely behind. She removes her helmet and uploads it back into her Quick Select as she and her partner step out of the garage and back into the sunlight blasting down on the resort.
Off in the distance, she can see the Blarg fighters retreating, metaphorical tails between their legs.
"That was something else, cherie!" Pierre exclaims, patting her on the back. "Granted, it is nowhere near my level of prowess—"
"Who are you again?" Klunk interrupts, staring at him in confusion.
"Quoi?" Pierre looks down at him in bewilderment. "You know not who I am?" He seems almost offended, with the way he places his hand against his chest and scoffs, looking away with his head tilted up. He lifts his other hand dramatically to the sky.
Rivet turns to look at Slag when she hears an annoyed groan, and sees him smack his face with his palm. "Now look what ye've done."
"I am Captain Pierre Le Fer! Pirate extraordinaire!" Pierre then turns his gaze back onto the Lombax and her partner. "And who might you be?"
"The ones who just saved your butts," Rivet answers, crossing her arms and shaking her head.
"Pierre," Slag starts up just as his partner opens his mouth again, "perhaps we should discuss rescheduling…?"
"Oh, that reminds me!" Pierre frowns, tilting his head and looking around. "Where did all the guests go? We had an entire crew!"
The two start talking amongst themselves, grumbling about their missing crew and labeling them "cowards." Rivet tilts her head when she catches Pierre saying something about nooses and feeding something named "Bubbles."
"Razz," Klunk starts, approaching Felton. "Would it be possible for you to give me information about this resort's lodgings? We require a place to stay for a night before we resume our mission."
"Oh, of course!" Felton exclaims, pulling out a notepad and a pen. "So we have a small bunk…"
The sun sets on Pokitaru for the first time in weeks— as sometimes those staying at the resort can pay a large sum of bolts for the solar satellites to shut down for a night.
Sitting around the small fire stationed in the beach are Felton Razz, Pierre Le Fer, Romulus Slag, Bob, Fred (the name of the Gadgetron Engineer they rescued previously, apparently), Rivet, and Klunk— who is currently being fussed over and sandwiched between reporters Darla Gratch and Juanita Alvaro on the reclining chair. After having properly interviewed both Rivet and Klunk, the two started flirting with Klunk, then started fighting over him because neither woman was apparently accustomed to sharing.
Juanita's long titanium pink nails aren't just for show.
It took Rivet and Pierre holding Juanita, and Slag and Bob holding back Darla, along with some very vocal threatening of lifetime bans on the part of Felton to get them to calm down and talk it over. Thankfully the two begrudgingly-ish agreed to share the little bot for the time being, and so now here they are.
Klunk doesn't quite know what to do with himself, with all this attention, so he simply sits there in between them, much to Rivet's amusement. She shifts in her chair, crossing her legs and settling her chin on her fist as she gazes at the fire. Pleasant chatter billows from both sides.
Rivet turns her gaze onto Pierre and Slag, who are making short work of the grog that had just been served to them. "So when do you guys think you'll have the wedding? Or take two of it, anyway."
"Probably next week," Slag answers, before gulping down the rest of his grog. "Assumin' this place doesn't get attacked again… oh, yeh, and if none of ye bother to show up, consider yerselves Bubbles-food."
Before anyone else can ask what exactly this "Bubbles" is, Felton cuts in. "I just hope that the new sea scrubbers will do their job," he grumbles, moving his marshmallows away from the fire and taking a bite. After he chews and swallows, he adds, "Those Blarg really did a number on this planet… it's gonna take a while to deal with all the mutated puffoids. And don't get me started on those telepathopi…"
"I have a question," Klunk pipes up, waving his hand for attention. When all eyes are on him, he continues, "In the transmission you sent, you referred to a deity— at least, I assume it to be a deity— named 'Orvus.' What exactly is an 'Orvus?'"
"'What exactly is an Orvus?'" Pierre repeats incredulously, sipping his grog. "First you do not know who I am, now you don't know who Orvus is?! What, were you born yesterday?"
"Not yesterday, but fairly recently," Klunk shoots back, glaring daggers at the pirate.
"Oh," Pierre says almost glumly.
Felton snorts, chewing on and swallowing another marshmallow.
"According to legend, Orvus is the leader of the Zoni," he explains. "They're little beings of powerful energy who come from a dimension very unlike ours. Because of that, they needed to wear special metal suits to be able to move about our dimension unharmed. They… used to be close to my ancestors eons ago. Orvus gifted them with the ability to travel through time. But because people are stupid and my ancestors were no exception, they accidentally wound up breaking the universe with overuse. So Orvus and the rest of the Zoni were forced to construct a machine. Something to repair the damage. Afterwards, they took away my ancestors' time travelling abilities, along with their technology. My ancestors never heard from them again."
"No offense, but that's a load a' baloney," Bob declares, crossing his arms. "Weirdo energy creatures from 'nother dimension, controllin' time itself and everythang? I don't even know where to start in explainin' how redikulous that is!"
"As a dabbler in general relativity," Fred pipes up, gnawing on a marshmallow, "I second that."
"I never said it was true," Felton points out.
"Aye, but our old Captain, he met the Zoni leader once. Or twice," Slag pipes up. "Captain Angstrom Darkwater. Now there's someone I haven't thought about in years."
"Wait, Darkwater met Orvus?" Rivet asks, sitting up straighter in interest. "How? When?"
"Back while he was still in command— and still taking in grog— he went plunderin' the Breegus system. He found some strange energy signature coming from the star cluster, so he investigated, and interrupted whatever temporal mumbo jumbo Orvus was dealing with there. The two hit it off and Orvus gave him a Fulcrum Star to keep in contact with him."
"And did he?" Juanita Alvaro and Darla Gratch are back in reporter mode, datapads and pens at the ready. Klunk seems slightly miffed at the lack of attention now, although he does also still seem somewhat fascinated with the story.
"Until Darkwater's… unfortunate demise, yes," Slag answers uncertainly.
Pierre snorts, finishing off his grog. "Everyone knows you offed him, mon amour."
"'Everyone' knows he died when drinking grog he incorrectly mixed himself," Slag shoots back hastily.
"Anyway," Rivet cuts in, drawing everyone's attention to her before a squabble can arise, "Real or not, it'd still be pretty cool to meet the Zoni someday. If they exist."
"While I am still somewhat skeptical of Orvus' and the Zoni's existence," Klunk adds, "I do agree it would be quite fascinating to meet them." A pause as he taps his chin. "And we did have that encounter with robotic pirate ghosts, so I suppose creatures such as the Zoni are not too far-fetched of a concept."
Slag groans, facepalming again. "Let me guess— ye had a run-in with Captain Blackstar, didn't ye?"
"Yeah, we did," Rivet tells him drily. "Nice guy. A bit on the explosive side."
"Did ye kill him at least?" Slag asks.
"Nope. We did a number on him, but as far as we know he's still kicking."
Slag groans again. "Another ten years of prank calls on the air to look forward to…"
Rivet holds back a snicker, and glances over at Klunk, who's once more being fussed over by Darla and Juanita. She slides off her reclining chair and trudges over to Felton, bringing up her holographic display. "I'm booking another room for the three lovebirds over there."
Somewhere very far away… in the exact centre of the universe… give or take fifty feet…
"Did you hear that, sir?" Sigmund twirls through the air, shrieking in excitement. "He said it would be fascinating to meet us!— Er, you— us? The Zoni!?"
Orvus chuckles at the Junior caretaker's ramblings and pats him reassuringly on the shoulder. "I'm sure he will be just as pleased to meet you too, Sigmund."
Sigmund squealed loudly, pulling Orvus into a tight hug, which the old Zoni gladly returned. "I wish we didn't have to wait so long…"
Orvus sighs, patting the rusty robot gently on the back. "I wish the same, Sigmund. But he is not ready, and will not be for a long time. But remember—" He pulls away and offers a soft smile. "— every day that passes is another day closer to his inevitable arrival."
Sigmund nods gently, smiling back. Still, for him, time tends to move way too slowly.