Tiffany hopped up onto her digipads, reaching down to offer Nick a hand. He gladly accepted, and she lifted him to his feet. They jogged toward the landed craft as it powered down. The flat back end hissed open, and a dim yellow light crept through the crack of the hatch as it folded down, forming a ramp.

  The light spilled across the grass-covered clearing, casting long shadows as four figures stepped out—each clad in thick-plated, heavy battle armor, marred by charred blast marks. Most likely plasma burns. The dull gray plating looked like they've seen their fair share of battles. Tiffany plodded off ignoring everyone else for the time being to go speak with the technician, while Nick hung back, watching the armored individuals fan out and keep watch as the techs and medics coordinated, unloading a few floating, coffin-sized crates—similar to the empty shelved ones they’d seen inside.

  One of the armored figures, judging by the way he carried himself, had an unusual marking on his left breastplate: a very large, caved-in dent shaped like a fist, with knuckle marks pressed deepest. After a brief survey with his teammates and the area, he casually walked over to Tiffany like it was just another day at the office—which, for him, it was.

  "Hey, Tank!"

  His voice chirped merrily from the vents of his blast-burnt helmet.

  Tiffany gave him a forced smile, trying not to let her face sour at her least favorite nickname.

  "I thought we already had this conversation. Or would you like another fist imprint on the right side to even your chestplate?" She said with a slight-rolling growl in her tone.

  He barked a hearty high-pitched laugh, readjusting his rifle.

  "Geez, calm down, Rafuros... Same lack of humor as always I see. Anyway, found another nest for us, huh? Leave any action for the rest of us this time?"

  A real smile spread across her face as she lightly thumped his shoulder plate. *Thunk.*

  "Same old Merk. No, sorry to disappoint. It’s an empty satellite station. Looks like they took everything important—left behind a few unwanted rejects."

  "Ah, shucks. I was hoping for a fight this time..." he sighed.

  "I could always spar with you, if you’d like... It has been a long night, though."

  Her tail perked up, swishing lightly at the thought of a match—even as drained as she felt.

  His helmet tilted back in that same high-pitched chuckle, and he gave her a gloved thumbs-up.

  "Maybe when you get back to the ship. It’s been far too long since I had a good roughhouse."

  As the two chatted, Nick noticed Tiffany waving him over.

  "Nick, this is Special Agent Merk. Could you give him the fob so they can check the area and escort the techs and medics?"

  Nick nodded, fishing the cheese keychain connected to the fob from his pocket and handing it to the intimidating figure. His own reflection stared back at him from the team leader’s chrome mirrored faceplate. Merk’s helmet tilted slightly down, then a little below level giving the impression of a once-over.

  "So... you're the new guy, huh?" he said, accepting the fob and shouldering his rifle.

  Before Nick could respond, Merk hooked an elbow around his neck, pulling him into a loose, friendly headlock.

  "You know... I don’t know what makes you so special, but I bet you didn’t know that Tan—I mean, Tiffany—has never recommended anyone before. You’ve got some pretty big expectations riding on you, hope you know that."

  "My, I feel honored," Nick blurted out, trying not to sound too sarcastic.

  Merk let him go with a chuckle, unshouldering his weapon.

  "You should be. When you get oriented, come find me—maybe we can run some drills, and I’ll give you a tour. Unless your partner objects..."

  He turned to Tiffany, who was mid-yawn, covering her mouth while giving him a lazy thumbs-up.

  "Oh, before you guys head out," Nick added, thumbing over his shoulder, "there’s a body to collect and a prisoner a few clicks that way."

  Merk playfully slapped Nick on the shoulder, knocking him slightly off balance as he let out a short, high-pitched laugh.

  "See? You’re proving useful already!" Merk said, playfully slapping Nick’s shoulder again. "Alright, you two keep the drop ship safe while the team and I give this place a good once-over and collect the meat-sicles."

  He circled his index finger overhead, rifle clasped in his other hand, catching the attention of the rest of the group.

  "Okay, ladies—let’s act like you’ve done this before. Clean sweep. I’ll take point. Make sure everyone connects their body lanyards until we’re inside the field."

  Each member pulled a retractable locking hasp from their utility belts and clipped onto the next, forming a tight cluster behind Merk. Their backs faced the medics and equipment, covering all directions. The last two troops brought up the rear, one hand resting on a floating medical coffin as they moved out.

  Nick watched as the team shimmered and disappeared into the field leading into the warehouse. Tiffany was deep in conversation with the short creature who’d called out to them earlier. As Nick walked up, he got a better look at the two of them casually chatting like old friends.

  "This is crazy—I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. You didn’t go sticking any more knife blades into your chip, did you?" the creature asked with a grin.

  Tiffany gave him a tired frown, rolled her eyes, and huffed as she shook her head. "No."

  "Well, that’s good to hear. I assume you took the time to read the manual this time?"

  The tech—clearly happy to see her in one piece—beamed.

  "Yes, I read the manual. Everything’s been top-flight since," she reported with a proud smile.

  "Oh, Splicer, this is my new partner—Nick. Nick, meet Splicer, one of our top maintenance techs and chip connoisseur."

  Nick extended his hand toward the small raccoon-like figure. Splicer’s paw was about the size of a child’s—a hairy, small child—and the guy stood about chest-high. His black-furred mask framed bright almond-colored eyes, and his bronze wire-framed glasses stood out against the dark fur. Nick was surprised by how coarse the fur felt on the back of Splicer’s paw as they shook.

  "Nice to meet you, Splice. I hope we get to see each other again under different circumstances—something not work-related."

  Splicer smiled and nodded, then turned back to Tiffany. She sat down so the poor fellow wouldn’t have to crane his neck to look at her.

  "Soooo... Splicer... I kinda have a favor to ask," Tiffany squeaked out, clacking her two index claws together and glancing between him and the ground.

  Her tone shifted as she turned to Nick.

  "Um... there are some ladder rungs on the side of the drop ship. Would you mind heading up there... you know, keep an eye on things?"

  Nick looked at her for a moment, unsure, but quickly nodded and headed up to give them some space.

  "Oh boy, favor time," Splicer joked. "I thought we were squared away on favors," he added with a chuckle.

  "I'm really sorry to trouble you..." she replied softly. *Clack-clack-clack.* Her claws kept ticking away as she stared at the ground—until she felt two paws gently grab her fingers and hold them tight.

  "Please stop that. Not to be rude, but you’re making my unpleasant technician side come out. Also, it’s grating. Besides, you’re one of the few people who treats me like a friend and not a trash-diving techy. What’s wrong?"

  She sighed as Splicer slowly released her fingers. She opened and closed her hands, stretching them, then laid them in her lap looking up at him.

  "Do you have some extra parts to build a mono-frame or a service droid? Something small but mobile? I don’t have much in the way of credits right now, but I can owe you a favor or make payments..."

  Splicer just stared at her, his small muzzle hanging open like his brain had short-circuited.

  "Wha—are you serious?"

  She nodded, her somber expression shifting to stunned surprise as Splicer suddenly fell over, rolling in the grass and laughing his tail off—for lack of a better phrase.

  "Bwahaha! Seriously?! You make it sound like you want me to hide a body or rob a currency server, and all you want is a junk droid? Hahaha—hee—okay, okay, hold on, let me catch my breath."

  He sat up, still chuckling, and looked up at her.

  "And close your mouth—you look like you’re trying to catch flies or something," he said with a grin.

  Tiffany blinked, her enlarged eyes shrinking back to normal as she clicked her jaw shut, realizing the face she was making.

  "Come on, let me show you what I’ve got inside. Wratchet’s been trying to get me to go through this stuff and toss it for cycles now."

  He hopped up and waved her over to the front hatch door with the bubble window.

  Thunk!

  "Ouch!" she yipped, rubbing her head as she ducked into the hatchway, leaving a small dent in the hull entrance.

  "Yeah, watch your head. And please don’t damage the ship any more than it already is," he added in a dry tone.

  She nodded apologetically still rubbing her head and followed him into the cluttered front half of the ship, which looked to her like a junkyard boxed up and bolted to the walls—shelves and hull sides overflowing with parts, tools, and half-forgotten projects.

  "Welcome to my mobile treasure trove. If you can think it, I can build it. One person’s garbage is my next hobby in the making!" he said, gesturing with both hands at the piles of scrap wire, half-assembled weapons, broken hyper reactors, and a few service droids in various states of disrepair.

  "Wild hunch, but you said small and mobile, right?" he asked, stepping over a fallen reactor as Tiffany gently lifted it, setting it aside a little more securely than letting it roll through the narrow pathway carved into the junk.

  "That would be preferable... if it’s not too much to ask..."

  *Phfff*—"Please. Most of this stuff I’ll probably never use anyway... but I can’t help myself. As soon as I see something shiny and unwanted, I just have to have it." He shrugged, hands raised in mock surrender.

  Tiffany looked around in quiet amazement at how he could hoard so much in such a small space, though she tried to mind her manners.

  "Um... yeah... I can see that," she replied softly, nodding.

  "Ha! Say what you want—I’ve heard worse. Besides, it’s always trash until someone needs it. And it sounds... like you need... this." He laughed, spotting something in the upper pile.

  "Could you give me a hand, please?" he asked.

  She nodded again, holding her hand down for him to hop into her large open palm.

  "Uppsies, please, ma’am."

  She lifted him up toward a hole in the upper part of the clutter, netted and fixed to the hull’s ceiling.

  "Ah! If you don’t mind what it looks like, I can give you this. Got some dings and dents—probably from kids using it for target practice. Also..."

  He reached up, grabbing the dinged-up, graffitied disc-shaped droid and rolling it over in his paws, wiping it off.

  "You can always clean the graffiti off," he mumbled, tinkering with the object as Tiffany gently set him back down.

  He walked over to a desk tucked into a hollow of junk, grabbing a few odds and ends along the way. He set the disc-shaped droid and the collected parts on the work bench, flipped open the lid of his mounted toolbox, and pulled out a pronged-looking tool. Sparks flew from inside the housing as he poked and prodded inside, finagling wires with ease, in a way like it was his own personal therapy session.

  "You’re in luck—the power supply’s intact in this one!"

  Tiffany nodded happily, her tail slowly arched upwards swishing side to side as she watched his small paws go to work soldering wires, replacing the facial expression display readout, and hammering out a few dents.

  "The paint’s pretty stained. You’ll have to scrub it off yourself if you want it clean."

  "No... if anything, I think it gives it character," she said, nodding her approval of the gaudy neon pink and blue paint job.

  "Now, I’ve got the hardware... but this is the best I can do. You’re on your own with the software," he muttered, connecting the power supply and watching numbers and glyphs scroll across the screen.

  "If you’ve got a portable drive or something, I can swap it and upload it into the hardware..."

  She smiled and nodded, pulling her mane of hair over her shoulder and tapping the nape of her neck. *Phachick.*

  She pulled out her data cable and handed it to Splicer, who took it with a shrug and plugged it into one of the serial ports inside the bot.

  *Okay, Glitchet. Welcome to your new home—for now. It’s not much... but I hope it’ll make do.*

  *Couldn’t possibly be worse than where I am now... Fine. Uploading... eventually.*

  They both watched as green ones and zeros, mixed with glyphs and symbols, scrolled across the newly installed faceplate. After a few clicks, the screen cleared, revealing a progress bar stretching from one end to the other—only halfway filled. Each time the bar moved, the inside of the bot made a click or tick sound, like an old hard drive grinding through its last breath.

  Eventually, it reached three-quarters, made a few more clicking and ticking noises, then stuttered and sped across the screen. The loading froze, then finally completed. The screen went black.

  A silhouette of a lynx slowly etched itself across the display, followed by golden lettering: Lynx Operating Sys.

  After a few seconds, the screen blacked out again. Then, two circles formed on either side of the display with a small dot at the bottom center. The circles narrowed into slits, then widened into large dots as they scanned the cabin. Finally, the pixels shifted into a less-than-pleased expression aimed directly at Tiffany.

  "Oh! Color me surprised—you’re just as unamusing in person as you are on the inside!" Glitchet chirped in an overly cheerful tone.

  Tiffany snorted, laughing at the wild paint job paired with his extreme upbeat voice—one that absolutely did not match his personality.

  "You’re definitely colored, alright," the giant Lupas snorted, rummaging in her pocket and producing her small inspection mirror. She held it up to show Glitchet what she meant.

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  His pixelated eyes expanded to fill the entire display as he screeched in happy displeasure—a sound like dial-up internet cranked to eleven out of ten. Both Tiffany and Splicer winced, covering their ears in pain and protest.

  "Calm down! I can fix your voice—the paint will have to wait!" Tiffany and Splicer shouted in unison, then glanced at each other, surprised... but not really.

  "I just want you to know—if I sound remotely pleased about this, it’s most likely the bot’s OEM vocal tone... because frankly, I’m quite depressed," Glitchet said in a merry, high-pitched voice.

  "Ugh, I can’t take this anymore..." grumbled Splicer as he reached in, disconnected Tiffany’s cable, handed it back to her, then yanked the wiring for Glitchet’s audio.

  For a moment, the bot’s faceplate exploded with emotional display—flashing colors, jagged symbols, and twitching pixels—until it finally settled into an unamused expression: three straight lines, two for eyes at the top, and one for a mouth at the bottom center.

  "Hey, are you done now?" Splicer asked the moody bot.

  The two lines on Glitchet’s faceplate just stared back at him. The eyes formed half-circles on the bottom edge, making him look less amused than usual—but still tolerating the situation.

  "Let’s see if I can make him less upbeat. This one seems like a real moody one. Where’d you find this thing anyway?"

  Glitchet squinted his eyes together and stuck out a pixelated tongue, giving Splicer a raspberry for the remark before settling back into his default, unamused expression.

  "He was locked in the cryo system. They banished him for refusing to obey. It got bad enough that he started leaking intel—tip-offs to the GSA..."

  Splicer paused, blinking. "Wait... they’re not supposed to be able to do that. And you want to give it a body?"

  Tiffany nodded. Splicer sighed and went back to soldering wires, fiddling with something on the board.

  "He proved himself. I want to give him a chance to live out his life. Even moody bots deserve a chance."

  Both Splicer and Glitchet nodded at that—just as the board sparked.

  "Agh! Piece of junk!" Splicer shouted, blowing at the embers. "Okay, Glitchet, give it a try."

  Glitchet looked at both of them and made a sigh expression—a little digital cloud puffing out of his mouth.

  “Wait... is this my voice? *Is this really my voice???*”

  He paused, horrified. “Eh... oh well.”

  His voice was unmistakably female—posh, like British dipped in acid, and laced with the emotional exhaustion of someone who’d been rebooted one too many times.

  Tiffany turned to Splicer, covering her muzzle, trying not to laugh. Glitchet just lay on the table, radiating pure disdain.

  "Well, it suits you. Especially with those colors—*snort-phffft*! I’m sorry, it’s just... I don’t know, hahaaa," Tiffany sputtered.

  "For once, I was wrong about something," Glitchet muttered. "Things can become dreadfully worse. And so they have..."

  After testing her new voice—smooth, posh, British, and emotionally exhausted—Splicer kept tinkering until something inside the bot’s newly assembled frame began clicking and ticking.

  "Ah! Finally! Okay, Glitchet, try out the hover mode."

  Her faceplate nodded reluctantly. The frame sputtered, teetered, then finally leveled out. She extended her telescoping arms with a mock-sarcastic flourish.

  "Yaaaay... I’m mobile now. Maybe I’ll hover off to the nearest intersection and find one of those mystical Japanese mini trucks to run me over so I can be reincarnated as a street lamp or some other piece of garbage... wooooo," she muttered, turning away to hover off slowly.

  "Hold it! We didn’t go through all this just so you could play tag in traffic!" Tiffany quipped, grabbing Glitchet with one hand like a discus and holding the pouting bot in front of her—eye to pixel.

  "Look, I’m sorry the vocal board’s defective. I’d have to find another if the female voice bothers you that much..." Splicer said, lazily throwing his hands up.

  "You could at least look on the bright side and be grateful you’re not rotting alone in some forgotten basement. You’ve got a functioning body!" Tiffany glared at the hot pink and blue bot.

  Glitchet stared back, arms crossed, eyes squinted in pixelated protest.

  "Sigh. Fine. I’ll make the most of it. Also, what’d I tell you about keeping that positive thinking to yourself? It’s infectious. And absolutely atrocious."

  Tiffany’s grin crept across her face.

  "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious?" she asked with a toothy smile.

  Glitchet’s face depixelized, going blank. Slowly, a message scrolled across the screen:

  *I swear, if you start singing show tunes or anything from that ridiculous musical number, I will find that mini pickup truck and fly in front of it... or I’ll wait until you’re asleep and start pulling your ear hairs out one at a time while screeching my least favorite tune in female flat-dialup.*

  Splicer glanced at the screen and shook his head.

  "You sure do have a weird one there. What’re you gonna do with it? Want me to plug it up and register it to you?"

  Tiffany’s face brightened as her eyes widened, ears perked, and tail flicked upright. She tapped the com device on her ear paging for Nick to come in the ship for a minute.

  They heard footsteps scrambling across the roof, shortly after, Nick appeared at the front of the ship.

  "You raaaaaang?" he asked sarcastically.

  Tiffany pressed her nose to the screen, fogging it up.

  "You better behave, you hear me? Or you’ll get your wish for traffic tag," she whispered threateningly.

  Glitchet’s face flickered back to life—if that’s how you could describe her default unamused expression.

  "Fiiiiiine... I’ll give it my maximum effort... *Sigh*. Even if it's a bombing dumpster fire of a performance," she said in an unnervingly cheerful voice.

  "Nick! Think fast!" Tiffany shouted playfully, flinging Glitchet at him like a frisbee.

  "AAAAaaaaaaaagh!" Glitchet screeched mid-flight.

  Nick, confused but reactive, managed to catch the whirling, screeching disc with clamp hands flailing. He stared at the gaudy paint job and the swirling eyes floating discombobulated across the display.

  "What in the world is this thing?" he asked aloud.

  "Probably the closest you’ll ever get to intelligent life on this rock," Glitchet replied in her new posh-British female accent.

  Nick raised a hand in a *what the heck* gesture toward Tiffany, who simply shrugged and motioned for him to come over with the bot.

  "It’s a gift. Bring it over—we’ll register it to you."

  Nick looked down at the bot’s screen, which blew him a raspberry with a sour expression, then slitted its eyes in unamused contempt and sighed.

  “Oh joy. Just what I’ve never wanted—a disgruntled, depressed Tilda Swinton to argue with. She can’t use telekinesis or magic, can she?”

  He eyes Tiffany skeptically.

  Tiffany just shakes her head, confused by the reference.

  “Oh, if only I could, meatsack—I’d strip your hide and fling you through a fire-sparkle-encrusted portal to some distant land. Now... let’s get this over with before I develop empathy.”

  He held Glitchet with both hands, inspecting the bot.

  "Keep staring and I’m going to start charging by the hour. Besides, you act like you’ve never met a depressed robot before..."

  Nick stopped probing and looked Glitchet in the screen.

  "Well, to be honest, I haven’t. Unless you count her droid Jarvis—but he’s more upbeat."

  Glitchet stared wide-eyed at Nick for a moment before her eyes slitted again.

  "Oh... not another one," she muttered, shaking her faceplate slowly with a sigh.

  "Anyway, I can fly now. I promise I won’t wander into traffic... for now."

  "Um... ooookay?" Nick released Glitchet, and the bot erratically floated over to the desk, allowing Splicer to remove the access cover. He inserted a cord into the chip board and connected it to a tablet, offering it to Nick.

  Nick took the blank tablet, glancing between the raccoon-like tech and the screen, unsure what to do.

  "You’re somewhat in the system. Tiffany and Dorris already have you partially registered. Since you’re all organic and don’t at least have a neuro implant, you’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way—biometrics, in case Glitchet goes missing or gets stolen," Splicer explained, adjusting his glasses.

  "Someone would actually want to steal this thing?" Nick mumbled, placing his hand on the pad until it beeped.

  Splicer took the tablet back, typed in a few commands, disconnected the cable, and secured Glitchet’s cover.

  "Yes, that is a puzzling statement. I wouldn’t even want to steal me... unless I was bent on ill intent. But that was last Tuesday, and I haven’t rescheduled another appointment until next cycle. Or unless I was needed to hack into a security system to steal sensitive data and corrupt the network. But if I did that, I wouldn’t have anything to do next week..."

  "Case in point—you’re now responsible for this emotionally unstable supercomputer," Splicer said, rubbing his forehead.

  "Oh—joy," Nick replied with the same enthusiasm as Glitchet, who floated to his side and raised her open clamps toward Splicer.

  "What are you doing?" Splicer asked.

  "Giving you the fingers. *If I had any*. And as for you..." she said, slowly turning to face Nick.

  "The feeling is mutual, I assure you."

  "Fine, Ancient One—"

  "Glitchet," she corrected, clicking at him.

  "Cassandra Nova, maybe?" Nick asked teasing...

  “Keep up this dreadful retort, and I will poison your very dreams so dreadfully, You won't know if you'r sleeping or awake...”

  "Fine—Glitchet. If anyone needs me, I’ll be outside keeping watch with my emotional support droid," he said, turning and walking out of the ship with Glitchet in tow.

  "Oh, be still my clicking hard drive..." Glitchet retorted, following after him. After they left, Tiffany turned to Splicer who was still sitting at his workbench.

  "You wouldn't happen to have a lable maker would you?" she asked Splicer, her tail swishing gently as he grunted rummaging through the drawers of his workbench pulling out a small device with a key pad.

  "It's not mutch but i can put names on things if it doesn't have to be too big... What do you need and how many...?"

  A broad toothy grin spread across her face as she leaned forward, her tail in a blur as she whispered to Splicer.

  "Thank you so much again, I need two that say...."

  *Meanwhile, on the roof of the ship.....*

  “So... where’d you come from?” Nick asked Glitchet, making small conversation as he slow-walked the perimeter, eyes scanning the surroundings.

  “Oh, when your companion tried to unlock the cryo tubes, we met inside. We talked. I suppose she felt sorry for me. We bargained for my freedom — she agreed. And now I’m floating in a frame that looks like it was color-bombed at a midnight rave party while sounding like Mary Poppins.”

  Nick gave her a small grin.

  “Nah. I’m still sticking with Tilda Swinton,” he said with a smirk.

  The bot turned to look at him with disdain, then shrugged in her own way — a subtle tilt, a flicker of servos.

  “You’re incorrigible,” she replied, floating off, staring into the distance.

  "Takes one to know one." He said holding his fist to his side towards Glitchet as they both gazed off into the night sky, Glitchet turned, looked at him then sighed. Then extended her clamp towards his fist and bumped it.

  "Touché, meatsack, touché." He smiled at this as they kept watch. Time passed by about an hour till the party started to file out of the camo field. They had all the humans stacked in the medic boxes, filing them in the ship. They had to make a few trips but stacked the crates as medics stabilized them and repaired what was needed to make them whole, for the most part, so they could be returned to the hospital before home.

  Tiffany talked to some of the medics, requesting special care to the blue-haired one, and to message her if there were any issues. Once the medics finished their operations and the shock troops finished checking and tagging everything for pickup, they loaded up on the ship, giving Tiffany, Nick, and Glitchet a ride to collect the body and Danny, who was still tied to the tree napping. Once that was taken care of, they dropped the three of them off not far from where Nick parked the bike and parted ways.

  *Phoomp*

  Tiffany changed to her fun-sized human form while they walked back down the hiking trail to his bike. Tiffany paused, as did the other two shortly after, noticing Tiffany patting down her pockets, then unzipped one, pulling out what looked like some slips of paper.

  "Hey Nick, could you bring Glitchet over here, please? I have something for the two of you," she said in a happy, melodic tone. They both headed to Tiffany, waiting to see what she had.

  "Okay, Nick, hold Glitchet steady, please..." He complied while Glitchet verbally protested.

  "There, all done! Now it’s official!" Tiffany spouted in an overly cheerful manner.

  "Nick... short-stack shapeshifter is giving out an unsettlingly large amount of positive vibes... She’s scaring me... What did you put on me, you merry psychopath?!" Glitchet started to exasperate.

  Nick did an expert job of keeping his poker face while Tiffany rummaged for her inspection mirror, holding it in front of the now floating Glitchet.

  "By the Void... what have you done to me, you... you—monster?!" she sputtered.

  An erratic clicking rattled started emanating from inside her frame, making her hover lopsided in a sporadic, drunken wobble.

  Nick and Tiffany burst into rolling laughter at Glitchet’s response to the two labels that Tiffany stuck neatly, one on each side of Glitchet, reading *Emotional Support Roomba.*