Traveling Companions

Chapter Three: The Refreshments

Disclaimer: I do not own Wander Over Yonder. I know, it makes me sad too.

Welcome to chapter three! There's actually a lot more continuity to this story than I thought there would be when I started writing it. I planned to have each chapter be a different, short adventure, but somehow they became a connected story, and I'm quite enjoying them. I hope you all are as well!

Thank you to Caravan Lurker (Aluid) for their lovely comments on chapters 1 and 2. You helped encourage me while I was writing!

I dearly love Wander's hat and the relationship the two of them have. I wish we had gotten to see more episodes featuring it. I guess this is my way of helping with that a little.

Enjoy the next part of the adventure!

It was pre-dawn when Rambler woke again. He felt rested and oh so warm and cozy. For a moment he just enjoyed the sensation, snuggling deeper into the softness that surrounded him, but he was already starting to wake up. He was naturally an early riser, and as his awareness returned to him, he remembered why waking early was particularly important this morning. He reached up automatically to unzip his sleeping bag, but stopped as a thought tickled his awareness. He'd lost his sleeping bag yesterday when he had to vacate the camp in a hurry.

So what was he sleeping inside?

Rambler's eyes snapped open and he looked down at himself. In the dull, grey light everything looked flat and colourless, but he could see enough. Slowly he ran one furry hand along the material of the hat, tracing the edge of the brim with his finger. He was snuggled inside it, from his toes to his chin. He didn't remember doing that, and his first feeling at the realization was a flash of nervousness. He never wanted the hat to feel like it was being taken advantage of or used. He knew it would take a while to trust him after the situation he'd found it in, and he needed to show it he was a friend and not trying to be another owner. However, when he looked down shyly, he saw the edges of the brim curving upwards and found his own lips forming into a smile in response.

Carefully, he stepped out of the hat, slipping it gently back onto his head. He immediately felt the cold of the not-quite morning biting through his fur and gave an involuntary shiver. It had gotten a lot colder in the night than he had thought it would.

He wanted to say something, but found himself inexplicably tongue tied. He hadn't really traveled with anyone before, and this was a new situation for him. Sure, a lot of folks he helped liked to help him back, and he was always grateful when it happened, but this felt a little different and made him feel a little uncomfortable, though not in a bad way.

"Thank'ee friend," he managed after a moment. "I think I needed that." He gave the brim a gentle tug to settle the hat more firmly on his head, then bent to retrieve his backpack. He found himself humming softly as he secured the straps and made ready to head out.

The light was still very grey when Rambler slipped out of the storage shed. As he'd hoped, there wasn't a swat-soldier in sight as he navigated through the sleeping city toward the star port. They made good time. There was only one delay while Rambler restacked a collapsed pile of firewood by one of the dwellings, but they weren't spotted, and were back on track after only a few minutes.

The cold felt invigorating now that he was up and moving, and Rambler had to fight the urge to whistle while he walked. There was a warm glow of happiness all through his guttyworks and he felt almost like they were out on a relaxing stroll instead of trying to escape from an organized military and a power-hungry dictator.

He was a little hungry, but he didn't want to delay them further by digging any of his supplies out of his pack. Time was of the essence, after all. He could manage until they found a ride off planet and had a little more breathing space.

The star port, when he sighted it, was surprisingly industrial compared to what Rambler had seen of the rest of the planet. He supposed that the inhabitants must have relied on interplanetary trade a good deal before being conquered. There was a large expanse of smooth, black concrete on which several substantially sized hangers were situated. There were a number of ships already parked in designated areas with others arriving and departing all the time directed by two, tall control towers. This was clearly a part of the metropolis which never slept, and Rambler found himself once again having to keep out of sight.

Once again, their status was brought forcibly to the forefront of his mind. Wanted posters were everywhere, attached to buildings, lampposts and even some of the more stationary ships, and the nomad couldn't help admiring the hustle. Slarina was certainly being industrious about this.

Rambler had earned a fair few bounties in his time, and when the heat was on to this extent, it was always best to make yourself a little scarce. Given that Slarina's current base of operations was on this planet, he was hopeful things would quiet down at least a little once they were out of orbit, but to be safe, they would probably have to travel across half the galaxy. At least Gragnar and his troops had been absent after that confrontation at the royal palace. They must have been repelled if Slarina could spare so many troops for him and his friend.

That had certainly been a time and a half. Rambler had had no idea what he was walking into, and certainly hadn't expected to earn the ire of two heavy hitters at once by doing so, but he didn't regret what had happened. How could he when he'd been able to help someone and found a new friend by doing so.

The sun was coming up now, slowly but surly, painting the horizon with a pastel of reds and purples. And with the light and warmth of the approaching day came the soldiers. It almost felt like Rambler blinked and they were back. Several groups of them flew overhead before landing in perfect formation and resuming the patrols which had been suspended at dusk.

Rambler's eyes darted around in the growing light, searching for a likely transport that wasn't too far from his current hiding place. A big blue ship caught his eye. It was shaped rather like a whale with many fins along its sides and bottom. There was a group of braxiors clustered around it, big, powerful and a brighter blue than their ship. Their eyestalks were waving in agitation as they loaded heavy red crates into the belly of the ship. They seemed surprised and dismayed by the arrival of the swat-soldiers, which made Rambler hopeful that they weren't locals. They might be more willing to take on a passenger if their world wasn't currently under Slarina's control. Still, it might be best to broach this question with them once they were out of orbit. Even if they didn't turn him in, he would be seen by the soldiers immediately if he tried to stroll up and ask for a ride at the moment.

Rambler therefore tugged the hat more firmly over his eyes, checked that all those nearby were currently occupied, and slipped over towards the open doors to the ship's hold where the cargo bay was located. He knew he had to hurry, as there were only a few pieces of cargo still being loaded, and he had his eyes fixed on his destination. At a sudden shout behind him, Rambler started, ducking behind one of the crates that was still waiting on the concrete. He froze, pressing himself against the bright wood, heart beating quickly in his chest. He heard running feet, along with the buzz of wings, and several soldiers passed by his dubious hiding place to confront the group of braxiors. It sounded like they were citing some new shipping rules that Slarina had put in place when she took control.

Rambler shared a glance with the hat. It looked tense; brim taut and pulled down slightly. Rambler had to agree, though he still managed a reassuring smile. That was a little too close. They hadn't been spotted, which was good, but the soldiers were now between them and the cargo bay. They could really use a distraction of some kind to get on board.

The traveler began looking around to see what was available. There might be something usable in the crates, but it would be pretty rude of him to dig through someone else's things, especially when he was already planning to sneak onto the ship without the owner's knowledge. He didn't want to be more of a bother than he had to. He didn't think he had anything in his pack that would work, but it was worth a try, he supposed. Without much hope, Rambler slipped his backpack off and began rifling through it as quietly as he could.

"Gotta be somethin'," he breathed, hand working its way along the cloth sides. He was interrupted by a sudden weight on his head, making him jump. It was hard and cold. Confused, Rambler reached up one hand and felt under the hat's protruding brim. He pulled the object out and stared at it for a moment. It was a plastic bottle with an orange liquid inside and a colourful label. "A soda?" he whispered. He glanced up at the black underside of the brim. It wasn't that he wasn't grateful, but… "Thanks, but 'M not sure this is really the time for…"

Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk…

Rambler ducked his head slightly at the sudden barrage. Bottles bumped onto his head, piling up and falling out from under the brim where he had to catch them so that they didn't make a noise. It didn't exactly hurt. After all, there was very little force behind each bottle, but it was certainly surprising. As the assault slowed, the nomad glanced up again questioningly at the hat. His arms were full of soda bottles now in various colours, and the sides of the hat bulged with more that were still piled on his head. The wide brim pulled up again cheekily as he looked at it, and Rambler felt his face splitting into a grin in response. "Ding!" he breathed, finally catching on to the idea.

It made sense that the hat had figured out the perfect distraction first. It was more familiar with their pursuers, after all.

Rambler peered out from behind his hiding place, taking in the swat-soldiers who were still harassing the poor braxiors, as well as their comrades swarming the tarmac. He had to think about how to do this properly. A nearby loading skiff caught his eye, and Rambler stretched himself out partly from behind the crate, tongue hanging out slightly in concentration, trying to snag it with one foot. He hooked his sneaker under the edge and tried to pull it within reach. The skiff rolled slowly towards him.

The swat-soldiers were facing away, but Rambler could see a braxior child following the movement, her eyestalks bobbing slowly as the skiff bumped along. He knew he'd have to hurry before the child drew attention to them, or anyone else noticed what they were doing. He dug in his pack once again as the skiff came into his reach, grabbing what he needed and piling the soda bottles on the base as quietly as he could. A couple of quick adjustments, and the skiff was sent rolling across the flat expanse of the star port, bottles jostling together on top.

Shouts sounded immediately, swat-soldiers turning from their patrols to watch the speeding skiff. Many of them ran towards it to get a better look, and that was when it stopped with a jerk, Rambler giving a sharp tug to the rope from his backpack, which he had tied to the back of the device. The abrupt halt to the skiff's forward momentum also set off the other thing Rambler had prepared. He'd shaken one of the soda bottles, leaving its lid partially unscrewed and held on with more rope. At the sudden jolt the lid exploded off, spraying the skiff's surroundings with sugary fizz.

In the same moment, Rambler dropped the rope and darted for the ramp leading up to the open cargo bay once again. He could hear shouts from the swat-soldiers, angry and shocked at first, but quickly changing to joy once the flavour of the liquid hit them. They dove for the unopened bottles on the skiff, and Rambler shared a victory smile with his friend. He just hoped there would be enough there to keep them occupied for the moment.

The braxiors had clearly taken notice and had decided to escape at the same time. After gaping at the spectacle for a second, the lizard-like creatures shared a glance with eyestalks waving, then hurried to push the final few boxes up the ramp and into the belly of the ship.

Rambler was halfway up the ramp himself when he glanced behind and skidded abruptly to a stop. The braxior child who had been watching him before wasn't escaping with the rest of her clan. Instead, she had wandered a little away from the ship and was staring at the swat-soldiers clustered all over the skiff.

Rambler veered back around and down the ramp again. He ran to the child and picked her up, giving her a friendly smile and a wink when she started in surprise. The little braxior was almost as tall as he was and a little wider, and Rambler stumbled a bit at the added weight. All the crates were inside the blue ship by now, and he could hear the engine whirring to life. Gears connected and the ramp began to retract towards the ship. Rambler put on a burst of speed. He heard a sudden yell behind him. It seemed not all the soldiers had been focused on their surprise treat.

Rambler ignored the yelling. His chest felt like it was bursting, but he jumped for the ramp and managed to catch the edge with one hand. His other arm remained wrapped around the child he was carrying.

The nomad strained, trying to pull them both up on top of the retracting ramp. His arm shook and sweat broke out across his brow, but he couldn't gain any ground. The best he could do was hang on. There wasn't much ramp left now. It had almost all been pulled back into the belly of the big blue ship. His clutching fingers were nearing the slot beneath the door where the ramp was disappearing and Rambler didn't think he had the strength or reflexes to let go and then grab the edge of the cargo bay's floor. He braced himself as the ship came closer and heaved the child up and inside, almost losing his grip as the weight shifted. She landed safely, if a little dazed. Rambler swung his newly freed hand, furry fingers flailing to grab the edge of the ship. A firm blue hand grabbed his, and the nomad was pulled up and over the gap and into the cargo bay. He was set on his unsteady feet on the metal floor next to the little girl who tackled him in a very welcome hug.

The braxior who had saved him pushed a button and the big double doors closed, shutting out the sight of a few dozen angry swat-soldiers now heading for the ship. The floor lurched and the vessel was airborne. His host turned from the doors and gave Rambler a hefty pat to the back that almost knocked him over, but made that warm, welcome feeling rise up through him all the same.

"Good to meet ya, friend, and thanks for the lift!" Rambler said brightly. In more ways than one.

"Thank you!" the braxior returned. "I aught to have my eyes checked. If you hadn't been there, it might have been too late before anyone noticed Bethany was missing."

"Tweren't nothin'." Rambler smiled at Bethany who, seemingly turning shy, was hiding behind the older braxior's legs. "Never hurts to help! 'Tell you tha truth though," he continued somewhat guiltily. "I needed a ride off m'self."

"I thought you might." There was a deep chuckle and the braxior lifted one hand, unrolling a very familiar looking poster. "Those troops outside were very insistent that we keep an eye out for you." Rambler giggled self-consciously and rubbed the back of his neck.

"That sounds like them," he offered. "They're eager fellas."

The braxior chuckled again, then grabbed the other side of the poster with his other hand and ripped it neatly in two.

"Name's Bri," he said, dropping the two halves to the floor and wrapping his arm around the nomad's thin shoulders. "What's yours? And where are you headed, friend?"

"Folks call me Rambler." The nomad paused for a moment. It seemed a little rude not to introduce his friend, but it was probably safest not to spill those particular beans, nice as these fellers seemed. He tipped the hat to Bri instead. "An' I suppose I'm headin' whichever way you are."

"Well then that works out perfectly, doesn't it?" Bri answered. Pleasure to meet you, Rambler. Let me introduce you to the rest of the tribe.

They headed up the stairs from the hold together, Bethany following behind. She seemed to get over her shyness partway up and Rambler smiled when he felt her hand slip into his. He definitely picked the right ship.

The hat's brim was tilting up again, although it also seemed to be drooping a bit. Maybe it was tired. It had certainly been an eventful morning. His own limbs were still tingling a bit from all the stress he'd put them through. This planet had certainly been exciting, but he hoped they would have a little breathing room before any more excitement happened.

For now, there were some new folks to meet and a new planet to look forward to, and all with a buddy at his side. It didn't get any better than that.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

If you feel like letting me know how I'm doing, I always appreciate feedback!

Wasps like sweet stuff. You can distract them with wine, but I thought soda was a little more fitting for WOY. Yes, there are lots of wasp references in this story. I keep looking things up about them and finding stuff that would be funny for the swat-soldiers. They are having a great time, at least until they get chewed out by their commanders.

Next chapter we should learn at least a little about the other player in this civil war. And yes, I do plan to eventually show the actual theft of the hat and how all that went down. It might be quite a bit later in the story though.

"Taking The Plunge" or "Never Hurts To Help" will probably be updated next.

See you soon!