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narrans · 4 months

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My Borrowed Son | 24 | A Waking Nightmare

Chapter Twenty-Four | A Waking Nightmare

Parker couldn’t believe how awesome this new place was. There were so many big spaces and new areas to explore. No longer was the kitchen connected to the living room which was connected to the dining room. The bedrooms were upstairs instead of on the same floor as all the others.

There was a separate spot for Parker’s mom to have an office instead of her having to use part of the living room or her office. There were carpeted parts of the house as well as tile and hard wood. There were two whole bathrooms and even a balcony that overlooked a back yard.

All of this was new and amazing for Parker.

Sure, he still had his space that he would be staying in, but Parker was already making plans to make some transportation structures for easy access from his room to the kitchen and bathroom.

One of those things included an elevator that he would get put into the wall. It would be a simple cut out from the floor to part of the wall in the kitchen. The actual mechanism would be inside of the wall.

Parker knew his mom was probably going to have some objections to it overall just because she probably didn’t want holes cut into their new home and Parker would be designing the pulley system himself. Still, he was confident that he could persuade her if he pointed out he would be climbing the stairs manually.

She didn’t like when he climbed too high.

It was an open and shut case.

So, as Parker helped unload all of the various cables and started setting up his area, he began scouting the floorboards and the rooms for the best place for him to put some of the contraptions he wanted to include in the home.

As he did, there was an odd feeling in the air that he couldn’t quite place. It was like the same sensation he got right before his mom entered the room or the sensation that overwhelmed his mind when he woke up from his reoccurring nightmare, which was happening more frequently recently.

It was the same dream every time, though some of the details changed from time to time.

The dark clouds. Some kind of boat. Someone calling to him as he was suddenly dragged under the waves. Not being able to breathe. Fear. Cold. Darkness.

Just the thought petrified the young teen.

Parker had to remind himself it was just a dream. He had actually posted about the dream a few times on his blog and a few people suggested it might be more of a memory than a nightmare, but Parker couldn’t remember anything like that in his lifetime. He did have to acknowledge the fact that some studies he read up on about dreams said that dreams couldn’t pull from information a person didn’t already have.

It was weird, and the more he thought about it the more it made Parker’s head hurt. Putting the dream aside, there was something about this house that set Parker’s senses on edge. It almost felt alive. Every time he approached the walls while hooking up his cables, Parker felt like a magnet drawn to steel.

Perhaps it was just his adventures that one night into the walls that compelled him to venture into the walls again. Perhaps it was just natural curiosity that drew him to explore what was unknown. Or, as another crazy thought, perhaps Parker wanted to compare the walls of his old home to his new home to see what differences there were.

He remembered the interior walls next to the drywall being unusually tidy and the little sketch mark still had no official translation. Were there marks like that in this house too?

Parker kind of wanted to know.

But did he really?

Conflicted, Parker continued hooking up all of his wires until, finally, his space was fully operational. Other than the water, which his mom hooked up after he informed her everything else was in place, all Parker had to do was help organize the drawers and chat with his mom.

They talked about everything while they worked. School. Future study plans now that midterms were over, and Parker would have to start thinking about what he wanted to study in the spring semester. They also talked about Lyn and how she was doing.

It made Parker just the slightest bit uncomfortable that they were talking about her simply because his body started doing funny things when he thought about his female classmate. Sure, she was a couple years older than him, their group of friends celebrating her sixteenth birthday just last week, but there was something about her that made Parker feel warm and tingly, excited and nervous, confident and seen.

It wasn’t until the movers came with all of the other furniture that Parker noticed his mom act a little strangely. She quickly ushered him up to his room and told him that she didn’t want him to get hurt.

“I’ll be okay, mom,” ensured Parker. “I’ll be on the counters and on the windowsill. They won’t hurt me. They’re not kids.”

“Parker, I would rather you not be out and about while they’re bringing everything in. There’s going to be so much movement and things swinging around and possibly falling. I would just feel better if you just took a break and relaxed in your room. Don’t worry. You’ll be able to help put everything when you want it when they’re done,” countered his mom.

Parker wanted to continue the discussion but ended up complying with his mom and retreating back to his room. There was something in her tone that sounded panicked and uneasy. It was like she didn’t want him to be seen and didn’t want him to talk to the movers.

That’s weird. I know she’s protective, but I thought it would be different now. I’m older. I’m almost fifteen. I can look after myself. I’m careful.

Parker huffed a huge sigh and flopped down on his bed where he found himself daydreaming about meeting Lyn for the first time. He thought about what she would say about his height, which he already had some lines for, or so he thought. He imagined what it would be like to hug her. He even dared to think about what it would be like to kiss her.

This brought about a whole range of emotions that made Parker squirm uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure where that thought came from, but he quickly shook himself out of his fantasy and turned his attention to his books and finishing setting up his room.

It was hours later when the sound of thumping and talking voices finally subsided. There were a few times when the voices sounded close to Parker’s door, but no one entered his room. In fact, Parker felt his hair stand on end and he actually retreated further into his space when he heard the voices.

It was another weird sensation of wanting to talk to new people and meet them but also wanting to retreat and hide away.

It made his head hurt, but he didn’t spend time dwelling on it. Too much time had already been dedicated to it in the past, and Parker didn’t find any use thinking about stuff he couldn’t solve. There were too many other books and subjects for him to learn about anyway.

Parker eventually emerged from his room, actually soldier crawling under the door to get out of his bedroom and climbed down the stairs. He wasn’t sure where the idea came from, but he snagged a few thumb tacks and taped them to his shoes and the used the carpet fibers as solid handholds as he climbed down each individual step.

The young teen was rather pleased with himself by the time he made it down to the bottom step and carefully took off his shoes before walking into the kitchen where he saw his mom unpacking plates and bowls.

“Hey mom,” Parker called. She stopped moving immediately and scanned the floor for Parker, smiling when she found him.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Were you calling for me? I’m sorry. I just thought I’d put these things away really quick before coming up to see what you wanted to eat for dinner,” said his mom as she knelt and extended her hand.

“No worries. I just got down here,” said Parker. Amanda glanced down at her child as she lifted him onto the counter.

“How did you get down here?” the thought that entered her mind changed Amanda’s expression to one of worry and disbelief. “You didn’t climb down them, did you?”

Parker sat quietly and averted his gaze bashfully. There was no denying what he had done, so he decided now was as good of a time as any to bring up his idea about the elevator.

“Um… well… I did have to climb, but I was really careful!” Parker insisted. His mom gave him another worried look and shook her head. “No! I really was! I used some thumb tacks on my shoes and made sure I had a tight grip on the carpet before coming down. Which! I actually had an idea for. Since I’m on the top floor and my room is across from the kitchen, I could implement my elevator idea.”

“Parker…”

“I know you’re worried about the idea, so I decided to draw up the plans and try it out on the desk. All I need to do is build it and then you’ll have a chance to see that it’s a solid design,” insisted Parker. Amanda sighed heavily as she set her hand onto the counter. Parker could see his mom would need far more convincing. The reluctance was tangible.

So instead of pressing the issue, he decided to start dragging away the paper and stuffing that was in between the dishes while he listened to yet another safety spiel his mom had rehearsed. It was a conversation he had dozens of times before, especially when it came to him climbing and experimentally inventing contraptions. She was usually very supportive of everything else except for the two specific topics of certain climbing inventions and visiting friends in person.

Honestly, he tuned out most of what his mom had to say simply because he had heard it so many times before. Parker instead diligently worked and nodded, agreeing mindlessly. He would have continued to do so except something caught his attention that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Just for a moment, the teenage boy could have sworn that he saw the electrical cover on the other side of the counter move on its own. It didn’t shift down as if falling. It shifted up – as if being shifted back into place.

He shook his head as his heart skipped a few beats. He felt like he was on pins and needles. Everything felt electrified in his body. His head swirled uncomfortably as if he was about to pass out, which Parker had never done before.

“Parker? Parker?” His mom’s voice shook him out of his temporary stupor. “Is everything okay? You look a bit pale.”

Parker looked over at his mom and then back to the electrical cover.

“I… sorry. I thought I saw the electric cover move,” Parker said in a daze. There was immediately a look of concern on her face as she looked over at the island behind her. Before Parker could say anything, his mom walked over and jiggled the cover. Sure enough, it was a bit loose and actually came off.

“Well, that’s not good,” she muttered. “I’ll have to screw that in tighter.” There was something about seeing that electrical cover open that drew Parker to it once more. Though the island was a place he definitely couldn’t reach, Parker suddenly found himself on the edge of the counter looking down at the sheer drop beneath him. The sensation was thrilling and terrifying as he looked down at the vertigo inducing distance.

“Anyway, what do you want to have for dinner? You get to pick,” said his mom as she snapped the cover back into place and turned to face him.

“Um… Chinese? It’s been a while since we’ve had it,” suggested Parker.

“Wonderful. I’ll go ahead and order it. And to watch after dinner?”

Parker decided he wanted to watch The Matrix. It was a bit of an adult movie, but he had been allowed to see it before while his mother censored some of the “naughty” bits. The concepts of defining what was and wasn’t real while also delving into the technology that existed in the world was fascinating to him.

Parker thought it might be fun to get into computer programming simply because he wanted to be able to write code and maybe create mods for the games he enjoyed playing. Lyn evidently knew a little bit about programming and mod creation, and Parker was more than eager to pick her brain about it.

The thought of what made the electrical cover shift slowly faded in the teen’s mind as his mother occupied him with other chores and preparing for dinner. The movie and the food were both phenomenal, but during both Parker couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. Something kept drawing his eyes upward toward the trim at the ceiling or by the other electrical covers around the room.

There was something that felt alive about this house, and Parker didn’t like it. When it came time for bed, Parker actually brought it up to his mom.

“Do… you feel weird in the house? Like… are you getting a weird feeling?” asked Parker as his mom came in to wish him a good night. Amanda had been getting a weird feeling, but it wasn’t until Parker said something that she fully elected to acknowledge the sensations around her.

“Well, a little, but I think that’s normal. This is a new house. Maybe we’re just not used to it yet,” suggested his mom. Parker sighed and nodded as he tugged at the hair on the back of his neck and rubbed just beneath his hairline. “Do you feel uncomfortable? Like you don’t want to be alone?”

“Maybe,” he muttered. Amanda, seeing her son’s discomfort, had an idea.

“Here. One second.” She went down to the living room and retrieved the old baby monitor that she and Parker used. It was something she hadn’t used in years, but it certainly aided her when she couldn’t be near Parker. When she brought it up, Parker recognized the contraption immediately.

“The baby monitor? Mom, I’m not a baby,” grumbled Parker as his cheeks warmed with embarrassment.

“I know you’re not, but the radio still works. If you need anything, you can just shout, and I’ll hear it in the other room. Just for now until the feeling goes away. Sound good?” asked Amanda. Parker considered the electronic device for a minute before deciding to relent. It was a good idea, and it was more of a radio than anything else.

The teen agreed reluctantly, and Amanda quickly set it up in the hallway just outside of his room for relative privacy’s sake. Then, with a kiss, Amanda wished her son the best dreams and went off to bed herself.

Parker curled up into bed and stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours before feeling an inkling of being tired. There was something about this place that made him uneasy. Perhaps it was just the relative unease of moving to a new home. It was the first time he had moved before after all.

It was these thoughts that Parker eventually fell asleep to.

Sadly, his dreams were not the best or the sweetest one he was asleep.

The nightmare appeared once again, but there was more to it than last time.

Parker could feel the chilling rain surrounding him. Someone’s arms were wrapped around him and telling him that they were going to be okay. Walls of water surrounded him, and he clung to the person tightly. He couldn’t describe it, but he trusted whoever it was that held him with all of his heart.

Another wall of water crashed over him. The darkness of the sky lit up just in time for him to look into the faceless features of the person who held onto him so tightly. All at once, he was dragged away, swallowed by the wave of water and spat out in the mud and leaves.

He turned in time to see the person being held back as they too were dragged under the waves of endless water surrounding him. Someone called out something to him that he couldn’t hear.

Fear.

Primal terror.

Loneliness.

Parker clutched something to his chest as the dark shadows surrounded him. He whimpered and tried to get away, but one shadow emerged and grabbed him. He threw out his arms and tried to push it away, but immediately Parker knew something was off.

For one, he registered that his hands made contact with something. Times before in his dreams, there was never resistance.

Most unnervingly was the fact something – someone – said his name.

“Parker? Shush and wake up!”

Wake up? What on ea-…

Parker opened his eyes and, to his horror, spotted a shadowy figure looming over him. From the sound of the voice, it was a girl speaking to him. For a second, Parker thought this was still part of the dream.

Vision sharpening instantly and sleep banished from his eyes, Parker pulled his legs free from his blankets and kicked, launching the figure across the room. She grunted in pain and gasped for air with the wind knocked out of her. Parker was on his feet in an instant and practically threw himself at his touch lamp, smacking it unnecessarily hard as the room illuminated.

There, standing up with difficulty, was a teen about the same age as him, possibly younger. Her hair was dark brown, and her eyes were basically black. She had mismatch pieces of fabric for clothing as well as a collection of weird contraptions at her hips. Her hair was in a low ponytail, which only kept her hip length hair out of her face. She forced herself to her feet and gasped for air again as she glared at him.

“You kicked me!” she hissed accusatorily. “Whatever. Come on! We have to go! Now!”

Parker knew two things.

One, he was drenched from his nightmare.

Two.

There was no way this was a dream. The way his heart pounded and the sensation of landing not one but two solid blows on the girl. His entire body trembled violently, and nausea immediately punched him in the gut.

What was this?

What was going on?

Panicked at seeing this stranger, let alone one his size, standing right there in front of him triggered an instinctual response that Parker couldn’t begin to understand.

He started to shout.

“M-mom! Mom! There’s someone here! Someone’s in the house!”

He wasn’t sure why he started shouting. Perhaps it was the instinctual fear and the involuntary need to be saved, but his body acted on its own as he called out to his mom.

The girl’s eyes widened, and she shied away immediately, retreating into the shadows of the next room.

“Dude! Shut up!” she hissed. “The human will hear you!”

“H-human? What?” Parker asked. His head swirled again and he staggered to the wall, leaning heavily against it. He gasped several times for air that left his lungs unsatisfied as his vision by the girl blurred.

“Are you coming or not!?” The girl didn’t wait for more than two seconds before turning on her heel and running toward the stairs. The sound of her retreating footsteps summoned Parker’s attention, and he chased after her.

“Wait! What? Where are you going?” Parker shouted. The girl stopped on the stairs and glared at him.

“Stop shouting, you moron!” she chastised as she continued running. Parker’s mind was running wild, but he spotted the baby monitor and did the only thing he could think to do. His mom couldn’t hear him here, but she could with the monitor.

He darted forward and threw his weight into the button and shouted as loud as he could.

“Mom! Mom! Come here! Quick! There’s someone in the house!”

He heard the girl curse as she left his house. Parker barely made it to the window in time to see her give one more fateful glance upward toward him, briefly making eye-contact, before vanishing off of the side of the desk.

Moments later, Parker heard his mother’s footsteps thundering through the hall and into his room.

“Parker? Parker!” she called as she rushed over to the desk, practically ripping the hinges as she threw the door open to look into Parker’s space. Parker shakily staggered toward his mom, mindlessly pointing toward the backside of the desk.

“Mom! There… th-there… there was a girl! There was a girl here in my room! She… sh-she… she was… l-like me. She was little like me!” Parker ran his fingers through his hair as he staggered toward his mom’s open hands. He was heaving in breath after breath, choking back the urge to vomit.

“Is there anyone else here, Parker?” asked his mom as she looked wildly around the room and back over her shoulder toward the stairs leading downstairs.

“W-what? No. I… I don’t think so. B-but mom. Sh-she was my size. She…” Parker let himself fall into his mom’s hands as he tried to calm his breathing. Everything hurt, especially his head.

Amanda, seeing Parker in such a state, looked at the state of his clothes and glanced around his space. Nothing looked disturbed or different. Parker was drenched from head to toe. She had to wonder if he actually saw someone or if it was just a bad dream.

“Parker, are you sure you saw someone? Are you sure it wasn’t a nightmare?” asked Amanda.

“No! Mom! Check by the desk legs! I know what I saw!” shouted Parker. Amanda did as he instructed and looked at the legs of the desk and the electrical covers nearby.

Nothing looked out of place.

Was it just a dream?

Could it have been a dream?

Honestly, what were the chances of there being a small girl living here in the house with them?

Then again, Parker existed, so couldn’t someone else?

What were they doing here?

Were they here for Parker?

Why? Why would they be?

And, Heaven forbid, what if they tried to talk to Parker before she could?

She didn’t want to distress Parker further and decided to compromise for the time being.

“Parker, I don’t know how much searching we can do here in the dark. Come to my room and get some rest. We’ll take a thorough look around in the morning,” said Amanda. Parker, still visibly shaking, looked back at his space. Doubt began to fill his mind.

Did he see what he saw?

Was it a part of his imagination?

No… it couldn’t have been….

And there was something else too…

There was something in his mom’s tone that made Parker the slightest bit uneasy. Did she believe him? And, if she did, why wasn’t she doing something about it now? Was she trying to dissuade him from looking? Was she trying to hide something from him?

Head throbbing, Parker tentatively agreed to stay with his mom for the evening. He wanted to sleep without the threat of waking again; but he wouldn’t forget this sensation.

He needed to do some of his own investigating tomorrow first thing when he got the chance.

Tomorrow… he would try and find his own answers.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

Beginning

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reijnders · 1 year

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TRAINS! TRAINS!

Train systems and public transport in general are not handled by the Coalition, even on their stations, and thus have different organization and ranking. while trains with faces are not actually In my canon, its fun to draw em >:) these two trains do exist in my world tho

bottom one is inspired by @charseraph 's use of nonhumanoid(if a train can even be humanoid) trains. i'll say more about that later below the cut :)

Ti Mañorrosn'sit

AKA The Tomorrw-Sunset. This train was named and drafted in the futureEarth nation of Texas, but constructed in the Venusian nation of Dallas, so the train as a whole is named in Earth Texan, while the faces are nicknamed in Venusian Texan and Vietnamese respectively. Tomorrow-Sunset is a passenger train, operating on a planetside waystation that acts as the main transport hub between the surface of Venus and the VOIS station in orbit around the planet itself. Trains of the Namgheen classification utilize a (very handwavey) magnetic pole to accelerate. Having the train use a tube to suspend itself allow it to "dodge" potential obstacles by tilting, or, in emergencies, doing a lil 180. To ensure as many eyes as possible are on the lookout for danger, these trains have two faces, along with a conductor, to give practically 360 degrees of vision. Right and Left get along pretty well, and they both have a dry sense of humor.

Nenyu Nuyuyu

AKA The Long Story is a yotavuș-built train. It's very small, and fully automated, so has no conductor. It's used for short distance transportation on the Darheiszing space station, orbiting the yotavuș homeworld Taŧeșě. The doors use a pulley mechanism so that the bottom of the door is in sync with the top, and you pull at one of them to open the shuttle body. Unlike the face and head of a regular yotavuș, the train faces have no ears, and within the mouth there are no venom fangs. The matti is present visually, but functionally is very different in that it is used to regulate internal temperature of the shuttle, rather than detect external changes in temperature.

#that there art #the railway series #my canon #my gougars #YEAHYEAHYEAH #LOVE TRAINS FUCKIN. LOVE TRAINS #no schedule today boys we post at 8:35 pm like men #yotavus #human #starflight to the edge!#sftte!

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mastcrmarksman · 5 months

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Clint Barton and his trick arrows

Most of these were designed/made by Clint Barton, but other collaborators and inventors of trick arrows that Clint includes in his quiver and arsenal are Hank Pym, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, and modified designs of Buck Crisholm's original trick arrows. Special guest arrows by Wanda Maximoff and Stephen Strange.

under the read more is the exhaustive list.

All types of arrows/heads that Clint has used

Sonic / Hypersonic

Explosive Tip / Demolition Blast / Power Blast / Blast

Smoke Bomb

Flare

Tear Gas

Acid

Suction Tip

Cable / Steel Cable

Putty

Bola

Electro

Net

Rocket

Bomerang

Pym Particles

USB

Fire

Freeze

Vibranium

Sleeping Gas

EMP

Adamantium

Tranquilizer

Suction Pulley Cable

Rusting Chemical

Tangling Rope

Razor

Sonar Screech

Stun Blast

Weight-nullifying ulta sonic vibration

Steel Lock

Mageenetic Intensifier

Sneeze Smog

Sulfur

Electro-suction

Tear Gas

Granade

Diamond Tipped

Magnetic

Blackout

Smog

Foam

Electromagentic Cable

Vibro-shaft

Phosphorus

Boomerang Tuning fork

Grappling claw

Incendiary

Parachute

Two prong

Inkjet

Blunt

Hellfire-infused

Electronic Disruptor

Parachute Bouquet

Clamp

Crescent Razor

Turbine

Battering Ram

Screamer

Ant Man Ride-along

Bolo, Net, & Glue

Neutralizer

Fireworks

Immunization Gas

Stink

Buzzsaw

Grounding

Adamantium electro

Training Mount

"Can Opener"

Constictor

Slippy Grease

Cupid's Magic Arrow

Null-field with Wasp ride-along

Heat-seeking Electro

Signaling

Laser

Sonic & Freeze

Tracer

Grappling line

Collapsible

Stasis

Sunburst

Polymer

Scrambler

Chaos Magic

Anti-magic charm

Antarctic Vibranium

Electro-net

Boxing Glove

Asgardian

Photonic

Sonic Suction

Liquid Nitrogen

Barbed wire

Suction sensor

Water

Portal

Cushion

Freeze

Tracking/Tracker

#clint has so many combos of arrows like so many #not all of them stick in his normal arsenal some are emergency made one off needs #[ about tag ]#[ skills ]

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wire-smith · 2 months

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I have questions about your lovely motor! Do you know what RPM it's getting or what load it might be able to take? Do you have any diagrams of your earlier designs compared to your latest?

This is the coolest project ever I want you to know

Thank you! For the ask and also for the compliment. The motor thanks you.

I'm not actually sure about the speed or lifting capabilities, I should go test that. I'll probably see what weight it can lift at a constant speed, and use linear speed and pulley diameter to get the rotation rate. Physics! In the meantime, it draws 550 milliamps at 13 volts, so it can't possibly be outputting more than 7.15 Watts of power. Probably much less, since I can't imagine it's very efficient.

In terms of designs, behold some schematics!

Basically, there's always gonna be a set of magnets that get switched on and off as the rotor turns. Each set switches on when it approaches the always-on magnets, to be attracted and spin the rotor. Then as it passes, it turns off to not get dragged back, and the next set turns on. The switching is done by the commutator, which has electrical contacts attached to the frame and more attached to the rotor. As the rotor spins, the contacts slide and current flows to the relevant magnets.

I thought it would look really cool if I put the six switching magnets on the outside, so that you could see the cool hexagon even when the motor was on. Sadly, this made the commutator impossible to build. Either it had a ring of six contacts on the frame side and two arms that touched it (left photo)... in which case the arms kept getting snagged at the seams and had too much dragging friction. Or it had six arms on the frame side touching a two-part cylinder (right photo, half built)... which STILL had tons of dragging friction.

The problem was that the side with the six magnets also needs the six contacts, and I could not for the life of me figure out a low-friction orientation to get two contacts on the spinning rotor to touch six segments of a stationary frame.

Turns out the conventional wisdom is wise, in this case. Most brushed DC motors have the switching magnets on the rotor. So, I tried that. Two hinged arms on the frame reaching in to a ring that is divided into six contacts, and the set of six switching magnets also on the rotor. And it worked!

#wire #crafting #electric motor project #my words #asked and answered #please ask me questions about this stuff #thank you for asking me questions about this stuff

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silverwings22 · 5 months

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Song of the Sea: Chapter 26: Take Me High and I'll Sing

Chapter warning: injury, miscommunication is 9/10 of conflict

Series Warning: explicit smut, alien anatomy (it's a monsterfucker fic, guys), major character injury, grief, canon typical violence, autistic meltdowns, and my terrible attempts at Mando'a

Previous chapter:

Next chapter:

The waves outside made a peaceful whirring sound against the shore, as Shiani lay on her back across the floor of the Marauder. Tech was quizzing Omega, the three of them left alone while the rest of the Batch ran a mission for Cid. They’d fallen into a pleasant pattern of missions and learning, with Tech adding new information every day. Today, Omega was trying to memorize every ship in the Imperial fleet while Shiani was reading a book about Republic Law. There might not have been a Republic anymore, but the Empire was playing by some of their old rules, with the same key players.

“Shiani, tell him we should take a break.” Omega peeked up from her datapad. The siren was holding her own over her face with her tentacles, arms folded behind her head comfortably.

“Leave me out of it.” She laughed. “If Tech wants to let you take a break, he’ll tell you.”

“But Shiaaaaaaaaniiiiii.” Omega pouted. “He doesn’t listen to me. He listens to you.”

“I am inclined to listen to her because she and I are in a relationship.” Tech tried not to laugh at Omega’s face. “And that she has already memorized the Imperial fleet models.”

Shiani rolled over to her stomach. “Because you had me memorize them when they were Republic models, so I could tell you what kind of ships were docking when you weren’t home. And so I could spot the Marauder from the water.”

“Omega, there is no time for a break currently. Now begin again-” His words cut off by his comm going off.

“Tech, we need a pickup. Quickly.” Hunter’s clipped voice came through, along with the sounds of blaster shots and sharp breathing.

“We are on the way.” Tech got up. “Now, you can take a break.” He told Omega, who gave Shiani a mischievous grin.

He went to the cockpit, and Shiani and Omega stuck their heads out of the open hatch. “Oooh. Aggrocrabs.” The siren cooed. “Can I eat those, Tech?”

“We do not have time for a snack break, Shiani.” He called back.

“I’m never allowed to eat the monsters.” She pouted, but she and Omega got in position on the side by the pulley system. Omega had grabbed her bow, and Shiani had her pistol on her hip. She still preferred to fight up close, but she was getting much better with the blaster.

Omega grinned at her. “I wanna go down there.”

Shiani handed her the carabiner for the pulley. “Clip yourself in.”

Omega nodded and hooked it to her belt. “Thanks Shiani!” She jumped off the side with a squeak of delight.

Tech leaned back from the pilot seat. “What was that?”

“Your sister jumped off the ship. She’s fine.” She laughed, pulling out her pistol and flipping upside down off the edge of the landing gear to shoot at the crabs, secured by suction cups.

“Do you enjoy being reckless, cyar’ika?” Tech sighed in her earpiece, which was secured by a magnetic earring to her intact ear fin since she lacked the shell shaped outer ear the humans had.

“I just like spending time with you. You’re my favorite.” She grinned. “Oh, Baby Mega’s turning into a real warrior with that bow. Look at her go, Tech.” She giggled.

“I cannot look, I am flying.” Shiani would have thought he was unimpressed with her teasing favoritism, but she heard him clear his throat in the way he always did when he she did some kind of acrobatics that showcased how flexible she was. And she loved turning backbends around him It was fun to make him turn red from the tips of his ears down to his collarbones.

She giggled. “Well drop lower and pull left by fifteen degrees. I’ll grab Baby Mega.”

“Be careful.” He cautioned. “And it is closer to eighteen degrees.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She reeled in the pulley cable and hooked it to herself before releasing her suckers and dropping to hang just a few feet over the beach sand. “Arms up!”

Omega threw her arms into the air and got wrapped up in tentacles, flying up off the ground and getting reeled about halfway up. They both waved at Hunter as he and the others came running around a bend on the beach fleeing a huge number of big crabs.

“Why is Omega hanging off the ship?!” Hunter demanded.

“It was an unscheduled study break.” Tech responded, and Shiani and Omega broke down in fits of laughter, landing right next to the guys and securing the crate Wrecker had been carrying. Tech started to haul them up, but a crab grabbed ahold of the cargo and she saw her glorious opportunity. She seized the crab claw in both hands and yanked the joint in a circle, pulling the pincher off and freeing them. They were hauled up with no further ado, and everyone got back safely inside the ship's hatch.

Hunter gave her a look. “Why did you bring the claw?”

“I’m gonna eat it!” She grinned happily, holding it up for Tech to see once he turned around. “I promise to cook it.”

Hunter tried not to snicker and looked at Omega. “Good job on the backup… but try to stay inside the ship next time.”

“I’ll try. But it was pretty fun. Right Shiani?” The girl grinned.

Shiani nodded, dragging her giant snack towards the galley. “Wrecker? Help me get the big pot?”

“I still have concerns about you eating anything from unverified sources.” Tech grumbled.

Shiani just grinned as Wrecker handed her a gigantic pot from the top cabinet in their tiny galley. Finally, a monster she could eat!

Shiani was still eating crab meat out of a duraplast container when the group arrived on Ord Mantell to deliver the cargo, following happily while Wrecker carried the crate into Cid’s office. To their surprise, there was a pretty woman already waiting for them, with dark skin and her boots propped up on Cid’s desk. “This is that top squad of yours? The rogue clones and uncontacted species?”

Hunter gave Cid a tense look, not thrilled to have the secret she was supposedly so good with being thrown in his face. The trandoshan waved a hand. “Easy Dark and Broody. Phee here is a friend. You can trust her with secrets.”

Phee hopped up to look everyone over, curious. “I thought clones were supposed to be identical. This one’s too big, that one’s too little, and he’s got a face tattoo!” She gestured at Wrecker, Omega, and Hunter. Her gaze fell on Shiani and smiled. “You’re interesting, though. And you… come here often, Brown Eyes?” She stepped back to look at Tech, who looked thoroughly confused.

“It is my current employment, and the phenotypical iris color for clones is brown. Our mutations did not effect-”

“Yeah yeah, bring it this way big guy. Fascinating as this is, I got a times schedule.” Phee waved to Wrecker to follow her with the crate, and Tech trailed after curiously.

Hunter looked over at Shiani, who’s eyes had narrowed into slits over her pudged-out cheeks full of crab meat. She looked pissed. Not really surprising, since the woman was flirting with Tech… not that Tech had a clue.

Phee paused in the doorway. “Cid, just remember intel isn’t free. If you get anything out of that haul, I want a cut.”

Hunter left the angry siren as a problem to solve later and preferably by Tech instead of him, looking at Cid. “Haul?”

“Your next mission. It could be worth more than every mission you’ve done for me so far.”

Echo’s interest was piqued, and he leaned over as Cid pulled up a holo. “Where?”

“Serenno.”

Shiani swallowed her mouth full of crab. “Serenno was a Separatist planet.”

Cid nodded. “And it’s a Separatist treasure you’d be going after. Count Dooku’s war chest. The Empire is moving in, but there’s still plenty there for you guys to make a score.”

Omega frowned. “War chest?”

“Collected treasure from all over the galaxy. Even just a fraction of what he had could set you guys up for life.” Cid was really trying to sell Hunter on it, getting Omega’s sense of adventure involved.

“We’ve stayed off the Empire’s radar since Kamino. I’d like to keep it that way.” Hunter shook his head. It wasn’t safe, and his job was to keep them all from harm. That was what a leader did, though he still sometimes heard Crosshair’s voice telling him he was a failure at it. Sometimes the fear of letting the team down, of letting them get hurt, kept him up at night.

“Think of what that kind of score could do for you, Dark and Broody. You could buy your freedom and have a future..”

“We’re already free.” Hunter said firmly.

"If that's what you think, you're not paying attention to what's happening out there. It won't be long before the Empire comes here, and my operation goes under. Then there's nothing left for you. This could set you up. No more living hand to mouth." Cid waved her claws at Shiani, who was now picking at her bowl of snack nervously. “What do you think, Suckers?”

Shiani twiddled her claws. “It’s a lot of credits, Hunter.”

“It’s too risky. Come on.” He waved them to follow him out, and Shiani glanced back over her shoulder before trailing after the sergeant at the door. When she got out into the main part of the bar, Echo had waved Tech and Wrecker over into a little huddle. Shiani ducked past Hunter to get to them as Hunter tried to go back to Omega's ship recognition lesson.

Tech lifted an arm for Shiani to slip under. “We are discussing the matter of the war chest.” He explained quickly, hand dropping to her shoulder.

“Hunter doesn't wanna go.” She frowned. “He's the sergeant, doesn't he get to decide?”

“If we present a strong enough counterpoint, I believe we can convince him.” Tech raised that index finger of his for the billionth time.

Shiani raised a non-existent eyebrow. “And your arguments?”

“We need the money.” Wrecker rumbled. “We're gonna be stuck in debt with Cid forever if we don't hit something big.”

Tech nodded. “It is also likely that the Empire will eventually locate Cid’s operation. We will be adrift with no resources if we do not make plans.”

“And if the Empire is on Serenno, it'll give us a chance to see what they're up to.” Echo countered. “A big enough income could even help a rebellion like Rex’s.”

Shiani waved a claw in his face. “Maybe don't tell the very careful sergeant you want to fight the Empire right now. Hunter’s driven by his fear something will happen to you guys.”

Echo sighed. “We should be doing more.”

She patted his arm. “We have to think of Baby Mega. But if you all want to go, I might know a way to convince him.”

“Convince me of what?” Hunter popped up behind her and Tech, making her squeak.

“We took a team vote. We wanna go after the war chest.” Wrecker explained.

“All of you?” He looked at the nodding Echo and Tech, then to Shiani.

“We can't be mercenaries forever, Hunter.” She said softly. “The ship, the military grade supplies, the toll it takes on your bodies… it can't go on forever. We can't leave Baby Mega a legacy of broken parts and broken bones.”

Hunter sighed and looked at Omega, who was listening to every word with wide eyes. She was growing, less naive than she'd been a few months ago, but still a child in need of protection. Shiani had a point.

“Fine. But I don't like it.” He sighed.

Cid, who'd been listening with a predatory grin, clapped him on the back. “Good choice, Dark and Broody.”

He rolled his eyes, but gestured for the Batch to exit as he took the datastick with mission specs from her. As they walked out, they passed Phee coming back in. “Good luck, boys. See you around, Brown Eyes.”

Shiani scowled again, resisting the urge to hiss. She tried very hard not to show her teeth much… still, you could take the siren out of the wild but never take the wild out of the siren.

Shiani settled in the cockpit with Tech, looking over the mission specs curiously. “Dooku has a lot of stuff.”

“Had. He is deceased.” Tech corrected, shifting so she could see better. “This is a sensitive undertaking, even for the Empire. I wonder how Phee Genoa came upon this information.”

Shiani let out a tiny hiss, unable to stop herself. “Dumb luck.”

“You seem to have a very deep dislike for her… that is unusual. You are typically very friendly.”

“I don’t have to like someone flirting with my husband.”

“Your- wait.” Tech looked up, bewildered. “Husband? You are not married.”

“Of course I am.” She blinked, head cocking to the side.

“To whom?!”

“You?” She wrapped her knuckles on her chest plate. “You gave me this after Ryloth, I gave you the necklace before Daro?”

“What does that have to do with being married?!” Tech rarely raised his voice, and it made Shiani's hearts hit her boots. He didn’t sound happy about it, and his eyes were huge behind his goggles.

“A chest covering you make yourself… isn't that how proposals work on the surface?” She whispered. “Baby Mega asked me about it and everything…” Her fingers trembled anxiously.

“Omega, please come to the cockpit.” Tech hit the PA faster than she'd ever seen him move, and her little blonde friend popped up only a minute later. “Did you tell Shiani that we were married?”

“No? I asked her if she would marry you like I saw on a holoshow, and she said yes if you made her the present. And then I told her you made her armor. Isn't that how all grownups get married?” Omega blinked.

Tech pushed his goggles up to rub the bridge of his nose. “I see what has happened. A cultural misunderstanding and Omega's lack of experience outside Kamino has combined into a … As Crosshair would say, a cluster fuck.”

Shiani made a pained sound. “So you don't want to be married?” Her voice trembled a little as the galaxy felt like it crumbled around her.

“Marriage is a very significant commitment, not to be taken lightly.” He expected her to understand and accept the logic, but her eyes just got bigger and more upset looking.

“How much more of a commitment do you need, Tech? I left my whole life, my people… I even fought my own brother for you.” She whispered.

Tech’s hands came up defensively. He didn’t like her getting upset, but he wasn’t quite sure where he’d gone wrong. “That is not what I meant. It is simply that our relationship is less than a year-”

“So there's a waiting period for humans?” She frowned, coloration going dull along her limbs.

“No. But any number of things could cause this to fail, and marriage is an extremely complex life choice. There are numerous factors to consider.” He held his hands up when the first angry tears started up in her eyes and her skin pulsed with blue rings and flashes of bioluminescence.

“I don't understand, Tech. All sirens need to know is that they love each other with all three hearts. What else is there to consider?” Her tentacles were spiraling around her legs anxiously, and Tech had no idea how to do damage control. As a matter of fact, the more he spoke the more upset she got.

“Marriage tends to bring up issues such as religious beliefs and procreation… we are not even sure if our species’ are biologically compatible in that respect.”

“So you don't want to be married because I still believe in siren gods? Or because you don't know if I can have your babies?” Her voice cracked, and he considered praying to her gods that she didn't start yelling at him. He didn't know what it took to activate the siren scream, but he didn't want to splatter all over the cockpit. He’d never been concerned she might accidentally harm him, no matter what anyone said in regard to her teeth or venom… but he’d never seen her look so upset.

“Shiani, cyar'ika, why don't we discuss this rationally…” He started to get up, trying to figure out what he was saying wrong. Marriage was a big step he had not intended to be blindsided by. Why was she taking it so personally?

“Don't.” She scrubbed her teary face with her hand. “Don't call me anything in Mando’a right now. Just tell me if it's that you don't want to be married at all, or just not married to me?”

“I am unsure. I have not had time to consider any part of this. I did not know we were married!” Tech yelped. “Is there a process of annulment?”

From across the ship, they both heard Hunter fumble like he'd been caught off guard. “You're married?!”

“Apparently not!” Shiani turned around and walked out of the cockpit with her arm over her blotchy face. Omega just looked confused, as Hunter and Echo appeared in the doorway of the cockpit and Wrecker’s head poked out of the galley.

“Uh… Tech? Shiani went back in the overhead compartment…” The big clone murmured. “She hasn't been up there since before we met Cid.”

Tech slumped back in his seat, looking perplexed. “I… do not understand.”

Omega gave Hunter and Echo a sad look that Hunter was sure meant she'd overheard their conversation right before Tech had called her, then went to her room without a word.

Hunter groaned. “Can we collectively agree to stop pissing off the girls in our lives?”

“I do not know why she is upset.” Tech protested. “I did not intend or agree to get married. I believe such a thing should be considered carefully.”

“Agree with you, vod, but look at her perspective. She went from thinking she was happily married to hearing you say you aren't on board in about 2 minutes flat, and then you asked to undo it. Sounds a lot like a rejection to her. Not saying either one of you is wrong, just… out of alignment.” Echo shook his head.

“Alignment errors cause ship crashes.” Tech muttered haphazardly, picking through the conversation he’d just had to figure out where he’d gone wrong. He’d meant everything he said, but never to hurt Shiani.

“Yup. And your little wife-not-wife is on board the crashing ship. Let's get through this mission and you two need to talk it out.” Hunter sighed, walking back to the hold and poking the overhead compartment door with a broom handle. “Shiani?”

She opened it a fraction. “Yes, sergeant?” She never called him by rank, and he winced slightly.

“Take a minute to pull it together; we're going to need you for this mission. Can you still work with Tech?”

Her eyes peered out, eyeshine eerie in the shadows of the compartment, and she wiped her face again. “What do I have to do?”

“Just steal things and endure the sight of his face.” He tried to make it sound joking, hoping to get a little bit of a smile. He needed her to be on her toes, since there was a high probability they were going to run into the Empire on this. A mistake could be lethal with the Empire.

She sighed. “I’m… a little mad at his face.” She said quietly. “I don’t like being mad at his face.”

“When this is over, you can talk it out.” He said gently, offering a hand up to help her down. “Just hold it together for Omega, okay?”

She nodded and climbed down, though she still looked discolored and unhappy. “For Baby Mega…”

Hunter patted her shoulder. “She’s in her room if you wanna go sit with her.”

Shiani nodded and slunk off, heading straight for the gunner’s nest bedroom.Omega was snuggled in her pillows, hugging Lula tightly. When she saw Shiani’s head pop up the ladder, she opened her arms and all but pleaded silently for the siren to come cuddle her. Shiani immediately crawled up to her and wrapped her in several coils of purple suckers along with her arms. “What’s wrong, Baby Mega?” She frowned, nuzzling against the girl’s cheek gently.

“I overheard Echo talking to Hunter.” She whispered. “He said the reason we were living on the run is because of me… I think he wishes they didn’t bring me off Kamino.”

“No, Baby Mega.” Shiani shook her head, rocking Omega back and forth gently. “Echo wants to fight, that’s all. Can’t take his baby sister to war. He’s not mad at you.”

Omega didn’t look convinced, but cuddled into the siren’s arms. “Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I ever be mad at you?” The siren blinked.

“I got you all confused about the thing with you and Tech. I’m sorry, I really didn’t know.” Omega looked tearful.

Shiani shook her head again and put her chin on the girl’s shoulder. “I’m not mad. You didn’t know, I didn’t know…. Just a mistake. Honest mistake.”

“But now you and Tech aren’t married anymore?” Omega frowned.

“I think we never were, Baby Mega.” Shiani said quietly. “If he never meant to ask… if the armor is just armor, then the pendant is just a pendant. Intention matters.”

“Are you mad at Tech?”

“No… yes… don’t know. It just hurt that he asked to make it go away… Maybe he didn’t know, but I still hoped he’d be happy about it…”

Omega patted her drooping tentacles, and they cuddled together and tried to soothe away the hurts of the day. Serenno promised to be complicated, but they could support each other. “Are you and Tech going to be okay?” Omega finally asked.

“I’ll find out when we finish on Serenno.” She mumbled. “Get through this first. But I think so, even if it hurts. I love Tech, and even if we aren’t married I still would want to be with him forever. Just… maybe a hard conversation. That doesn’t change that I love him.”

“It’s gonna be a long mission.” Omega sighed.

When they touched down on Serenno, Hunter did his best to pretend everything was fine. The city behind him, bombed out and destroyed, spoke volumes to the contrary.

Omega frowned. “What happened here?”

“An orbital bombardment, most likely.” Tech sighed, reaching for his binocs.

“Like Kamino.” Shiani nodded, putting an arm around Omega. “The Empire doesn’t care about Republic or Separatist. Only conquering everything they can get their hands on.” It reminded her of the old stories of the long necks and Kamino before it flooded, when the longnecks were first taking prisoners that would lead to generations of slaves to follow.

She looked over at Tech as he looked through his binocs, waiting for his assessment. Upset with him or not, he was always observant and usually spot on with details. “There are four cargo transports visible. Three have already been loaded, so we have a very narrow window to get anything.”

Hunter nodded. “I’ll provide ground cover, in case you need a diversion. Get as much as you can and load it onto the Marauder.”

The others nodded, and took off using terrain cover, creeping over to the open cargo container. Hunter headed for the side of the shipyard, carefully planting explosives under a couple Imperial ships in case that diversion was needed.

When the rest of the team got to the cargo, Shiani gave Omega a boost up and suction cupped her own way, then offered a hand down to pull Echo and Tech up while Wrecker kept lookout. “What are we looking for?” Omega asked eagerly.

“Anything of value.” Tech started opening crates to search.

“Anything shiny.” Shiani grumbled, mostly to herself. “Value means different things. Wouldn’t want another cultural confusion, would we?”

Echo had to turn around to avoid choking on a laugh. Tech just winced. Omega and Wrecker exchanged a helpless look, both of them worried about the current situation between Tech and Shiani. Their precious little romance had been a source of normalcy for the rest of the squad, especially Omega and sensitive Wrecker.

“.... financially valuable. Is that specific enough?” Tech looked at Omega, ignoring the siren climbing crates to look at them.

“Understood.” The girl nodded, opening a crate and finding it full of credits. Before she could present it to Echo, she heard the quiet sound of a stun round being fired.

Tech stuck his head out as Wrecker pushed an unconscious stormtrooper into the cargo freighter with them. “Our window is narrowing. When this one does not check in, more will come looking.��

Shiani sighed. “Baby Mega, give those credits to Wrecker. Gotta hurry.” She slithered down a stack of crates with a smaller box, which she handed to him too. When Omega looked curious, she smiled. “Sculpture. Art sells for many credits, according to Cid.”

“Where’d he even get all this stuff?” Omega muttered as Wrecker started carrying it out and Tech intercepted the Imperial comm to keep check on when the enemy noticed the unconscious clone’s absence.

“Count Dooku exploited and controlled numerous planets. The contents of his war chest were all stolen or extorted from there.” Tech sighed.

“That’s just how corrupt people are. For all his talk about the Republic being corrupt, Dooku was no better.” Echo muttered. “All this is stolen.”

“Aren’t we stealing it, though?” Omega frowned. “How does that make us any better?”

Echo patted her arm lightly. “The difference is what you do with it.”

“This is charming, but the clone Wrecker stunned is being hailed on the comm.” Tech frowned. “We are about to be detected.”

“We could use that diversion now.” Wrecker told Hunter over the comms, before he took the chests he’d been handed and jumped out of the cargo hold. When he turned to offer a hand to Shiani, who he thought was right behind him, the door slammed shut and trapped the other four inside.

“Uh oh…” She muttered, claws scraping the durasteel anxiously.

“Let me see.” Tech hooked his datapad to the door controls inside, trying to get it open. When it failed, Echo tried scomping in and then shook his head.

Shiani hit her comm. “Hunter. We’re locked inside the cargo transport.” Her face paled when it rattled around her and the floor moved. “And we’re taking off.”

“Shit.” Hunter hissed. “All four of you are trapped? Wrecker just got to me.”

“Yes.” She scaled the walls, checking for weaknesses in the construction. “No way out from the inside.”

“We’re coming back for you. Hang tight.”

“Not like we have a choice.” Echo sighed, bracing himself against the wall. Shiani stayed on the ceiling, hanging upside down and listening intently.

They all listened to banging, the sound of armor hitting the walls before disappearing. “Hunter and Wrecker, are you okay?” Shiani commed in after a few minutes.

“We’re going to have to find another way.” Hunter sounded slightly out of breath. “We couldn’t hold onto the outside.”

Tech looked up. “We could theoretically commandeer a life pod and escape that way. It is the most logical course of action.”

Echo nodded, grabbing one side of the crate of treasure they’d found. Tech grabbed the other, and Shiani dropped down next to Omega. They moved to the side, weapons up, as Echo scomped them through the door between the cargo area and transport ship. It didn’t take long for them to run into troopers, quickly stunning them. Unfortunately, the blaster fire raised alarms and the entire ship went red with pulsing alert lights. They were forced into a corner, covering Tech as he tried to find the life pods in the ship schematics. “The pods have been jettisoned.” He muttered, fighting the urge to shoot the console in front of him. He wasn’t usually quite so easily infuriated… but it had been a rough day so far.

Omega ducked a shot that inched past her head, brain buzzing. “Tech, you said these were class four shipping transports, right?”

Tech nodded. “That is correct.”

“The cargo crates of class four models are equipped with re-entry thrusters.” She squished around Shiani to shoot back at an Imperial.

“That is… brilliant. You are correct. I am impressed.” He nodded, glancing at Echo and Shiani. “We could theoretically ride back to the surface and contact Hunter and Wrecker for pickup.”

“No control of landing with re-entry thrusters.” Shiani turned and took another shot, hitting a trooper in the face. “No way to predict location either.”

“We can contact them with our coordinates after.” He assured her, biting back the automatic praise of her analysis on the situation. She usually beamed at his commentary, but right now might not be the time. “We will have to hurry, though. Re-entry thrusters are only effective while we are still in the atmosphere.”

“Better than getting shot.” She muttered, yanking Omega back out of the line of fire. “Echo, leave treasure. We’re take the whole cargo crate.”

“Fine.” He sighed, covering their double back towards the cargo. “How are we going to initiate the cargo release from inside?”

“On it.” Tech answered, typing on his datapad while running. Shiani had no idea how he didn’t run into something. The ray shield opened and Shiani grabbed each clone with a tentacle, taking a dive after one and keeping them all together. Tech got the door to the crate open and they all climbed in, tumbling towards the earth at terminal velocity.

Echo looked at Tech, clinging to the straps securing cargo as they were thrown around. “How long does it take for those re-entry thrusters to kick in?”

“Any minute now… I hope.” His brother said nervously.

Shiani grabbed Omega and pushed her against the wall, protecting her with her limbs. “Gonna be fine. Absolutely fine.” She repeated softly, comforting the girl as the meters between them and the ground diminished.

Just as she was starting to think they were going to die and was debating her last words to Tech, the thrusters kicked in. Everyone went flying, bouncing into each other and curling up to protect themselves as much as possible. The flight down was relatively bumpy, but they stopped moving after a while.

Shiani sat up, still wrapped around Omega. “You okay?”

Omega nodded, blinking. “Did we make it?”

Echo got to his feet slowly. “Looks like it…” He was still behind the security straps, though Tech had gotten up and was heading to the door to get them out.

Shiani went over to Echo with Omega, intending to untangle him, when the crate suddenly lurched and tipped. Tech went flying backwards, a heavy crate following as they went flying ass over teakettle. The siren spun around, securing herself to the wall with Omega, and paled when the crate eclipsed her view of Tech falling, then landed on top of him. His cry of pain hit her through the hearts like a blaster bolt

“TECH!” She set Omega down and dropped, landing right beside him. His leg was trapped between the crate and floor, and his face was almost green with a combination of pain and nausea, from what she could see though the spaces in his helmet.

“Is he okay?!” Omega yelped behind her.

Shiani got her claws under the crate and shoved it off him, dropping back to her knees. “Hold still. Let Shiani see.” She murmured, carefully checking his leg.

He winced when her claws touched his thigh. “My left femur is broken…”

She hissed softly, slipping an arm under his shoulders. “Sit up slow. Lean on me.” She’d been told that a femur fracture was the most painful bone to break, and she tried to be as careful of him as possible. It didn’t matter how frustrated she’d been six seconds ago; now that Tech needed help she was on it. Like she’d told Omega, she still loved him, and that was the most important thing.

Tech winced again, but let her help him. “We must be on unstable ground.”

Shiani nodded. “Echo, use a dart line and take Omega first. I’ll bring Tech.”

Echo nodded, waving for Omega to grab ahold of him. Shiani watched anxiously, holding onto Tech, until they were out of the top of the crate. Tech watched as she carefully wrapped a tentacle around his middle and another supported the broken leg while her arms tucked under his good knee and behind his back. He had no choice but to wrap his arms around her neck like a bride as he used the other two tentacles to climb the sides, handing him up to Echo as soon as she was able and clambering out herself.

Sure enough, the crate was half over the edge of a cliff that likely would have been the death of them if they’d remained inside it when it fell. Echo set Tech on the ground to catch their breath, staring at the near-death experience.

“We should pull it up and get what we can right?” Omega looked at him.

“Getting out of here alive is more important.” He looked over at Shiani, who was crouched beside Tech protectively and also staring at the great height they’d nearly fallen from.

“But what about the war chest?” Omega looked at Shiani. “Didn’t you say it was important?”

Shiani shook her head, getting herself under Tech’s right arm and slowly helping him to his feet. “Not more important than surviving. We need to find shelter, so I can splint Tech’s leg.”

Tech nodded. “Shelter is… paramount. The Empire will likely send arial teams…” His words were punctuated by little noises of pain, though he tried to keep a clear head. The grasping fingers on Shiani’s waist and arm were evidence enough for her that he was in agony.

“Easy.” She breathed, gently bonking her head against the side of his helmet in what might have either been a Keldabe kiss or a reality check. “I’ve got you.”

“Echo, Tech. Plan Double Zero.” Hunter’s voice came across the comm.

Omega and Shiani had both been quizzed on all the plans until they were exhausted by it. They knew what that one meant. Radio silence. “The Empire must be monitoring comm frequencies.” Echo sighed.

“That means we can’t give them coordinates to pick us up.” Tech attempted to take a step without leaning on Shiani and regretted it immediately, nearly falling until she caught him.

“Stop being stubborn. I thought you were concerned with logic over emotion today, but your pride is showing.” She sassed, then her head turned suddenly. He recognized the way her ear fins pinned back, on high alert.

“I hear him too. We’re being followed.” Omega murmured.

“Not Imperial.” Shiani frowned, carefully turning Tech to face the direction the watcher was in before raising her voice. “We aren't the Empire. Please come out.” She called. An older human man slowly crept out, hands up and looking very afraid.

“I don’t want any trouble.” He said softly.

“Neither do we.” Echo muttered, but kept his hand on his holster, just in case. “We’re just looking for shelter.”

“There isn’t much of anything left after the bombardment.” The man said quietly. “I wish you the best of luck.”

Tech looked over his shoulder. “I am picking up a thermal reading about 200 meters back. I assume this is your domicile?” He said quietly.

The man looked guilty and uncomfortable, but before Echo could press him for help Shiani interceded more gently. “Please. We won’t be any trouble.” She said softly, one hand pressed against the side of her face closest to him to hide the seam of her trembling jaw. “I know they’re soldiers, and you’re scared. But there’s a child with us, and Tech is hurt. Please, can we just get our bearings?”

The man softened at her big eyes and sighed. “Come this way… my name is Romar Adell.”

“Thank you, Mr. Adell.” Shiani said softly, letting Echo and Omega go ahead of her and Tech’s slow pace. “I’ll splint your leg when we get to shelter. Promise.” She murmured.

“Your mouth is coming open.” He mumbled. “Indicating you are under significant stress.”

“You’re hurt. Of course I am.” She huffed faintly, correcting herself as best she could.

“I would think my discomfort would be cathartic for you, since you are currently upset with me.”

“So much for a genius.” She sighed, finally ducking into a house half hidden in rubble. She set Tech down carefully in a chair and sighed, kneeling by his leg to examine it more thoroughly.

Romar looked distrustfully at Echo and Tech. “And you’re sure you’re not the Empire?”

“We used to be soldiers of the Republic. We deserted.” Echo muttered.

“You won’t find much sympathy here for the Republic.” Romar muttered. “Or Separatist. Dooku’s greed leveled our city. Look what's left of it.”

“We came for the war chest.” Omega volunteered. “We could share what's in it, to help you rebuild. We saw what happened to the city… is that why you live so far out here?”

Romar looked displeased. “I don't want a thing to do with that war chest, and neither do you. Dooku didn't just steal from other planets, he stole from his own people too. Just catch your breath and go. I only let you in because the little lady there asked nicely.” He opened a trap door and headed down, grumbling all the while about clones.

Echo looked at Omega. “Keep an eye on him.”

Omega looked less than thrilled, but went down the trapdoor after him. Shiani just shook her head and sat on the floor in front of Tech, pulling his leg into her lap to start wrapping it with gauze from her gear pack. “We can't go back after the war chest now, Echo. Stop looking at the door.”

“There's a million credits out there we could use, Shiani. You can't really want to give that up. You believed in this mission too.”

“Tech can't walk.” She said firmly. “So your backup is either a child, or I go with you and leave Tech and Baby Mega unprotected. On a hostile planet where the Empire knows we're here.”

“Omega is capable. I'd think you'd want some space after that fight on the Marauder.” Echo crossed his arms.

“Why does everyone think I enjoy Tech being hurt or alone?” She huffed, finishing the bandaging around his thigh.

“Because you are angry with me?” Tech adjusted his goggles, leg still under her hands as she searched pulled out a durasteel antenna from her gear pack to use as a splint until she could make a proper one.

She gave him a genuinely confused look. “Being angry doesn't mean I stop loving you. And neither does being married. I loved you before, and I love you after.”

Tech’s cheeks went a little pink and Echo put his helmet back on. “I still think we can make off with something. But I'm going to check the perimeter.”

He slipped out the door and Shiani carefully set Tech's leg down and dampened a little leftover gauze at Romar’s makeshift sink. When she came back, she wiped the clammy sweat off his face. “Still in a lot of pain?”

“It is better, now that I am stationary.” He let her lift his goggles up to inspect his face for bruising. “Thank you.”

She sighed. “Thought that box was going to crush you.” Her fingers brushed his face a little longer than necessary. “Sorry… for being snappy earlier. That wasn't nice.”

“That is alright. I was… less than tactful, during the trip here.” He caught her hand in his gloved ones. “It was surprising news. I do not like surprises.”

Shiani looked at his hand as he squeezed her fingers. One two three squishes. “Didn't mean to surprise you… I really thought it worked the same way on the surface.”

“There are similarities.” He looked up as Omega came back upstairs holding something. “What do you have there?”

“A kaleidoscope. It's not treasure, but Romar says it's priceless if it makes you happy.”

Shiani smiled. “Can I see?”

Omega handed it to her and she looked through, grinning at the bright colors. It reminded her of the colored broken glass she sometimes found and laid in the infrequent sun on Kamino to watch the colors dance.

“Looks like the little lady can appreciate it.” Romar came back up the stairs, a datacore in hand, and gave Shiani a curious look. “You're different than the clones. The little one here didn't seem to know what a toy was.”

“Clones have hard lives, sir.” Shiani handed the kaleidoscope back to Omega. “But they're good people.”

He set the datacore on the table and looked at Tech. “Mind if I borrow your spanner?”

Tech shook his head and handed it over. “Not at all. Is this Separatist data you are attempting to retrieve?”

“Separatist? Pfft, no. This is Serrennian history. Our people's music, art, culture, and memories. This is long before the Separatists, and worth more than anything in that war chest.”

“Culture…” Tech listened closely, curious. “I had no idea such things were so valuable.”

Romar glanced at Shiani, thinking of her words about hard lives and the little girl who didn't know what a toy was. “I guess, being made the way you were, you wouldn't. I bet your friend here does.”

Shiani nodded. “Siren culture is all about music. Our gods, our holidays, our language… all celebrated with songs.”

Tech looked at her bright smile as she talked, realizing he'd spent so much time considering the biology and history of sirens that he deemed relevant… that he'd forgotten how much more there must have been. There was more to a people than the science behind their existence, and Shiani was still a part of them no matter how far he took her away from the shores of Kamino.

No wonder he'd misunderstood the proposal tradition. Once again, he simply hadn't asked.

“May I help you repair this?” He looked at Romar. “What you are describing sounds fascinating.”

Shiani beamed as Romar let Tech take a look, coming over to stand beside her. “What's a girl like you doing with a group of rogue clones?”

Her eyes never left Tech. “He's the love of my life.”

When Echo returned, the atmosphere in the little house was much more friendly. Tech was finishing up repairs on the datacore while Shiani told him and Romar about the underwater castles and painted temples of Acopit and the other Belowcities. Tech would have been finished much sooner if he didn't stop to look at every few minutes, noting how excited she was and how captivating her descriptions were.

Echo looked around and blinked as Tech handed his project back to Romar. “Hey, where's Omega?”

Shiani paused mid sentence. “Baby Mega was sitting right…” She looked at the section of floor her little friend had been occupying. In her place was the kaleidoscope.

“My rappelling kit is gone too. I left it right here.” Romar gestured.

Tech and Echo exchanged alarmed looks. “She must have gone after the war chest on her own.” Echo whispered.

Shiani's eyes went impossibly bigger. “Oh no. Baby Mega already thinks you resent her, Echo. She'll try to get that treasure to make it up to you.”

Echo looked like she'd punched him, holding the abandoned toy like a lifeline. “She what?”

“She heard you tell Hunter we live on the run because of her.” Shiani helped Tech up. “Gotta find her before she falls off that cliff.”

“Or the Imperials find her.” Tech nodded, limping along as fast as he could.

Romar looked worried. “What about your leg?”

“I can manage, but I appreciate your concern.” Tech said as confidently as he could muster. “My riduur will look after me.”

Echo gave Tech a look, but decided he'd be better off rushing ahead to find Omega while Shiani helped Tech along.

“Baby Mega is grounded until she's older than me.” The siren grumbled, but she was much more worried than angry.

By the time Shiani and Tech got to the crash site, the Empire was there. Echo and Omega had retreated into the cargo crate, which could fall at any moment. There was no option but to fight.

Tech pointed to a trooper silently, the man manning a mounted gun. She nodded, letting him go and sneaking up with the kind of eerie silence that reminded Tech she was actually an apex predator in her native environment. Without a sound, she snared the Imperial clone in her tentacles and cut off his air to scream, dragging him into the bushes and giving Tech access to his gun. He got to it and opened fire, struggling to dodge return fire on one leg. Fortunately, Shiani was quick to launch herself out of the bushes at another clone trooper, taking him to the ground to pull her pistol and stun him.

While she dove to the next clone, another got close enough Tech's gun was useless and they were fighting hand to hand. When she looked up, the blue light of a stun round not even fully faded, Tech was on the receiving side of a headlock.

Between the pain of the broken leg and being choked, Tech felt the fuzzy gray of an impending blackout inching into the corners of his vision. He tried to fight it, and was suddenly granted air when the Imperial behind him was violently snatched and slammed headfirst into a tree. Exhausted and overexerted, Tech collapsed face first into the dirt.

Shiani planted herself over him, snarling at the approaching V-wing she spotted coming at them. “Tech, get up.” She grabbed his arm and tugged, hissing getting more desperate while he tried to clear his exhaustion. “Please. Up, please.”

“H-help me to the tripod, cyar'ika.” He finally mumbled, and she got him to his feet. While she set him at the gun, Romar turned up helpfully and started trying to pull Echo and Omega from over the cliffside using a tow rope on a speeder bike.

“We're back at the Marauder. Send me your coordinates.” Hunter's voice cut through the sound of blaster fire, and Shiani wordlessly transmitted them from Tech's vambrace while her arms were around his waist.

Everything about Shiani's life since leaving the water had been the weirdest thing ever, in a never-ending stream of progressive strangeness. But holding up a half-conscious (and still a better shot than her) man she might or might not be married to, at a mounted gun while a total stranger tried to haul a cyborg veteran and little girl out of a box of stolen treasures that they'd been trying to re-steal from the estate of a dead, violent war criminal…

It sounded insane because it was insane. Even with all the context she was privy to.

When the Havoc Marauder came into view and forced the last Imperial V-wing into the side of a cliff, she almost laughed. “Harmony and Melody are looking out for us today.” She squeezed Tech around the waist tightly, cheek pressed against the back of his armor.

Tech leaned back against her, which complicated everything since he was quite a bit taller than her. “... those are your gods, correct? I was listening.”

“You are almost delirious.” She shifted him so he could lean on her again. “Come on. To the Marauder.”

They limped their way up the ramp, letting Omega and Echo have a minute to thank Romar. Shiani gave him a wave, grateful to him but much more concerned for Tech. His wave in return seemed to understand.

“Almost done.” Shiani murmured quietly. Tech was sitting at the work table, leg sprawled out as she worked on a metal brace and splint for him to support the limb while it healed. She had welded it together, and it would keep the leg fully extended for the next few weeks. The dressings underneath could at least be changed during that time, and as long as he put no weight on the leg it would be the most comfortable option. “The pain medicine kicking in yet?”

Tech nodded, leaning back as she got up from her side of the table and oh-so-carefully put the brace on to immobilize his leg from ankle to hip. Once she tightened the screws into place at his knee, she glanced up at him.

“How’s that feel? Not too tight?”

“No, it is comfortable. At least as comfortable as can be expected of a fractured femur.” He nodded, his own distraction project of a small ring of metal in his hands. “You were not injured, were you?””

She shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”

He patted the seat beside him for her to sit. “Here, cyar’ika. Come talk to me a moment.”

Shiani sat down immediately, never very good at telling him no even when she was mad. And she wasn’t very mad anymore, just a little sad that it looked like her idea of a happily ever after had more speedbumps than she’d expected. He was still calling her sweetheart, after all… even if they weren’t married, he wasn’t breaking up with her. That was all that really mattered to her, if she was honest.

Once she was seated, he picked up her hand and inspected her fingers carefully. “I believe I owe you an apology, Shiani. I did not mean to imply that I was opposed to the idea of marriage. It is just something I believe should be discussed thoroughly, between the two of us. So why don’t we discuss it now?”

“Do you feel well enough to talk about this?” She cocked her head to the side. “You got squished today, Tech.”

“Squish implies something soft. The crate that broke my femur was anything but soft.” He reached over and cupped her round little cheek in his hand, lightly squishing her cheek three times. “You, on the other hand, are exceptionally soft. Fangs and all. It is part of the reason I find you so adorable.”

Shiani flushed blue in the face and fiddled with the ragged edge of her left ear quietly. “Okay. We can talk about it.”

“Good. It was my lack of attention to your cultural practices that led to the confusion, so let me ask now. For a siren, what is expected in a marriage?” Tech picked back up the piece of metal he was working on, a smooth circle of what appeared to be the same metal the ship was made of. She wondered what it was for, but his question was more pressing than her own.

“A partner forever.” Shiani said softly. “Sirens mate for life… if one dies, it’s rare for someone to remarry. It happens… my father remarried, my mother was his second mate. But he was king, and it was expected because kings need heirs and spares. He got lucky to find love twice. Not everyone does.”

“So children are expected.” Tech mused.

“Sirens value families. There are other ways to be a family, like Mandalorians and foundlings. Sometimes parents die, and children need someone to love them. Sometimes you find a bunch of brothers and their little sister, and make them your family.” She laughed softly. “Sometimes you can’t or don’t want children. That’s okay too.”

“Do you not want them?” Tech raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know. I never really thought about it before. I never loved anyone but you.” She smiled faintly and shrugged. “I don’t hate the idea. But if it never happened and I still got to spend my life with you… that’s good enough for me.” She tapped her claw against the table. “More than good enough.”

Tech smiled. “And why the clothing to propose?”

Shiani giggled weakly. “Chest covering, specifically. It protects the hearts. Most of the time, when sirens propose back him, they use clothes they weave themselves. When sirens were slaves, they weren’t allowed clothes… clothes mean you’re a person, not an object and if someone loves you enough to make them for you… they’re very special.”

He chuckled. “I believe I understand. There are some similarities between your culture and the one I am best versed in. It is traditional to give rings, which symbolize an unbroken and unending affection.”

Shiani’s eyes dipped to the ring he was working on, head cocking to the side. “Tech?”

“Let me see your hand again, cyar’ika.”

She extended her hand to him, eyes moving to his face. “You called me something else on Serenno, I didn’t recognize the word. Ree-”

“Riduur. Yes, I did.” He placed the durasteel ring on her left third finger, checking the fit before letting her examine it. It was a simple band, flat and smooth, with a carefully notched engraving of the 99 skull and number. “It means spouse, in Mando’a.”

Shiani blinked at him. “Spouse… I thought you wanted to discuss it?”

“We just did.” Tech said simply. “It occurred to me during our mission to Serenno that, despite how frustrated you were with the situation… you did not change your opinion of me. You were still right by my side, helping me when I was injured and in trouble. When you said you did not stop loving me because you were angry, I realized that I would never want that to change. If we both agree to that level of commitment, the next logical step is marriage. And if we already were, there is no reason to repeat ourselves.”

Shiani made a happy squeaking sound and threw her arms around his neck, careful not to knock him out of his seat with the force of her hug. He snuggled her to his chest, cheek on top of her wiggly head tentacles, and smiled. “I have made myself a ring to match. Is that acceptable?”

She nodded with delight, leaning up for a kiss. “More than acceptable.”

He gave her a gentle peck on the lips before resting his forehead against hers. “I have always found this appealing. Mirshmure'cya, or a Keldabe kiss.”

“Brain kiss.” She smiled, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the closeness.

“Yes. The brain is the seat of personality. The most uniquely individual part of you. Therefore… the part of you I most appreciate.”

Shiani chuckled. “You find the most elaborate ways to say I love you.”

“As long as you understand what I mean, that is all that matters.” He closed his eyes as well, comfortable with his arms around her. “I apologize for not asking more about your people. For as different as you are from the other sirens I have seen, you are still one of them. If I recall correctly, you could have been their queen.”

“I would rather be your queen.” She cooed, tipping her head up to rub her flat nose against the tip of his.

“That, I believe, is acceptable.”

Bonus meme because I make and send these to my husband when I'm writing.

#explict #original character #clone force 99 #the bad batch #star wars #tbb tech #fanfic #song of the sea

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mpcomagnetics · 1 month

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hsmagnet · 6 months

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Detailed Introduction About Cross Belt Magnetic Separators

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skywalkerab · 1 year

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Meet the MAG Brake Trolley - The self-braking Zip wire Trolley is the safest available on the market for high end commercial zipline with slopes up to 25% and speeds up to 140 km/h

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stevebattle · 2 years

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Magnamo by Bill Allen (1954), Wichita, Kansas. Controlled by a portable switch panel, Magnamo moves on wheels, turns, raises its arms and holds objects with its magnetic hands. Describing the robot as a "Tin can with an idea", and "Disappointed with his first-year performance as a general science teacher at Hamilton School in Wichita, Kan., Bill Allen figured that what he most needed was something to stimulate his pupils' interest. In his garage workshop he gathered together a chemical drum and a paint can, some scraps of wood, wire, assorted pulleys and a couple of electric motors. Drawing on his knowledge of mechanics and electricity, he wired them together, creating an other-worldish, homemade robot he named Magnamo" – Life, 13th December, 1954.

#cybernetics #humanoid #robot #1954

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coreymichaelsmithson · 2 years

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I Gave My Heart To The Junkman

Yesterday I sold my best friend to a stranger for $315.

This was, of course, far less than what a 2005 Kia Sedona ought to fetch, even for scrap alone. There were certainly a lot of useful parts still tucked inside ... but beyond any question of material worth, the sentimental value was incalculable. After all, I had poured so many financial and emotional resources into this long-term relationship, and steadfastly made repairs whenever the need arose, and had shown more unflagging devotion to this soccer-mom minivan than I had for some of my boyfriends, jobs, teeth, and homes. She was my first car, and like any first love, a first car carries a special significance.

I bought my Pamela in March of 2017, springing her from a dusty little shitpot in Bonner Springs, Kansas. I paid $2300 in cash for her, and easily poured ten times that amount into repairs. In just under six years, I replaced her starter, radiator, alternator, thermostat (twice), drive shafts, brakes, catalytic converters, power steering pump, rear shocks, rack and pinion, tie rods, hub and bearing, window motor, door actuator, timing belt, alternator belt, EGR valve, purge solenoid, charcoal canister, air conditioning compressor, cooling fan, valve cover gasket, tensioner and idler pulleys, exhaust Y-valve, oxygen sensors, hood struts, coils, hoses, filters, batteries, rear window, and three camshaft position sensors. We broke down in Iowa, Colorado, Washington, and Florida. We blew tires in Wisconsin, Oklahoma, Minnesota, and Georgia. I got to know the various components of my vehicle, one by one, as they fell apart.

Last week, she failed to start. In and of itself, this wasn't anything new, as she had crapped out so often in the past. But this time felt different, somehow. There was something so final about this silence. I knew, in that moment, that Pamela just didn't want to go any further. She had gone far enough.

With a heavy heart, I made arrangements with the junkman to come cart her away. I took the next few days to clean her out, retrieving all the tools, camping gear, and souvenirs I had stashed in her crates and cargo areas. The last thing I removed was the bobbing statue of Hula Girl, which I had glued to the dashboard back in Missouri. Her nose had gotten chipped in Iowa, when a sudden crosswind thwacked my camera's lens cap across her face ... but her irrepressible smile and cheerful ALOHA had accompanied me for over 99,700 miles, and I couldn't bear to leave her behind. I did, however, tear off the last few shreds of her disintegrating grass skirt, which no longer afforded her any dignity.

I sat for a long while in the driver's seat, holding the wheel that had been in my hands for thousands of hours. Its foam grip had been shredded by the stress of too many white-knuckled rides, all those times when I prayed for us to make it through blinding downpours or snowstorms or terrifying deep country two-lanes or narrow construction zones.

Sitting there, like a kid playing vroom vroom in the family car, I recounted some of our many adventures aloud. "Remember driving down the Vegas Strip? That supercell catching up with us in Valentine? That sunset in the wind farm? Heading out to the Olympic Coast? Devil's Tower? Ed Gein's place? Tinkertown? Bonneville? Waco? That refinery by Dodge City? Sunrise at Monument Valley? That one flat we got in Viroqua, and the farmer helping us change it? Dawn at Cades Cove? Those little hilltop dairy farms in The Driftless? The Badlands? The rim of Bryce Canyon? The meadow in South Park? The pueblos at Bandelier? Finding the trail at Butler Wash? The caves of Maquoketa? Picking up that hitchhiker in Dinosaur? Taking the Mountain Loop Highway up to Big Four? Morning mist on Steamboat Slough? The salmon run at Granite Falls? Taking the Alaskan Way Viaduct? Running along the Skykomish? The vultures on 312? Shiloh? Hooking up with the guys at Magnetic Springs? Going up Mt. Baker?" This went on for ages. Each memory brought to mind another, and another, experiences strung in sequence like beads on a string, a rosary of perils and deeds. After about ten minutes, my soliloquy devolved into a précis ... all I had to do was murmur "Kitty Hawk" and we returned immediately to one of the worst nights in our history, when we had to drive 700 miles through a tornado outbreak with a busted alternator and half a dozen batteries, sometimes driving blind in the rain without headlights or windshield wipers. We had so many close calls in our time together, and our survival sometimes seemed miraculous.

Finally, words failed me, and I wept. I sat there, finding myself once again broke and broken, a few weeks shy of turning forty-nine, devastated at another huge loss, crying my eyes out because my car wouldn't start.

Pamela had listened to me laugh, scream, sing. She heard my deepest secrets, my most buried fears, all the things I will never share with another living soul. She held space, literally and figuratively, as I processed early traumas, the kinds of injuries that had to be coaxed out of my soul like splinters. She kept me company as I mourned lost friendships, raged at failed opportunities, exulted over spiritual and professional victories, learned the lyrics to dozens of showtunes, and sifted through the smoldering wreckage of too many love affairs. She saw me at my very best and my very worst.

We traveled from coast to coast, crossed the Mississippi dozens of times, explored every kind of terrain in the continental US. We'd chased after tornadoes in Nebraska, dodged hailstones the size of tangerines in Oklahoma, coasted into Death Valley with squealing brakes, gunned through the Cascades on bald tires. We'd raced across salt flats and skidded out on gravel roads and slid on ice and got stuck in the mud. We climbed narrow mountain roads, corkscrewing upwards like a buggy in a Disney darkride, and were rewarded near the summits by whispering aspen groves and skies the color of lead. We followed thunderheads across hundreds of miles of cornfields, doubled back to photograph collapsing barns, got lost and found and lost again. We nearly ran out of gas on a stretch of moonlit desert, and were almost forced off the road by a madman near Mexican Hat. We saw insect swarms, murmurations of starlings, clouds rising from firs, incandescent sunsets, fogbound highways at 4:am, hazy feedlots, mine shafts, floodwaters, dust devils, wildfires. She had given me a treasury of beauty.

Pamela drove me to jobs in corporate office demolition, sanitation, construction site cleanup, disaster services, aerospace manufacturing, warehouse fulfillment, toy merchandising, and food delivery. She waited in parking lots while I went skydiving and whitewater rafting and hiking, while I ate, slept, got laid, gathered sharks' teeth, watched lions mate, and raised a circus tent. She carried me to zoos, sex clubs, cemeteries, battlefields, dormant volcanoes, dams, lighthouses, shipwrecks, museums, rodeos, waterfalls, weird roadside attractions, a nude beach, a monastery, a cassowary ranch, and the homes of countless friends. We saw Monterrey, Santa Fe, Orlando, Tukwila, Minneapolis, Fort Sumner, Little Rock, Mukilteo, Pensacola, Oso, Tulsa, Jupiter, Oakland, Bellingham, Eureka Springs, St. Louis, Mosca, Wichita, Portland, Pahrump, Ocracoke, Waco, Memphis, Sarasota, Montgomery, Estes Park, Vernal, Coeur d'Alene, Peoria, Birmingham, Lumberton, Des Moines, Topeka, Darwin, Beaverton, Bemidji, Enid, Deadwood, Hot Springs, Cullman, Austin, Ocean Springs, Chattanooga, Carlinville, Abilene, Darrington, Nashville, Moab, Pagosa Springs, McEwen, and innumerable parks, farms, rivers, and valleys. She took me to Judy Garland's birthplace in Grand Rapids and my own origin point in Ellensburg. We killed a hare near Ogallala and drove below arches made of lightning. We endured for far too long the joyless mazes of suburbia. She brought me into and back out of my homeland. She was my home at times.

Yesterday, a tow truck showed up on Reef Drive, our residence for the last four years. Pamela was marooned just behind her usual spot, along a hedge at the front of the property, in the shade of a nearby palm. A flock of scarlet ibises used to roost on her roof, and a clowder of feral kittens sometimes took shelter beneath her when it rained. There was a big rectangle where the grass had long ago given up and stopped growing. All of this was about to change.

The junkman was a friendly, toothless old chap named Thomas, and he had been doing this job for decades. His skin had been leathered by the sun, his hair bleached into straw, and save for the ball cap and tee shirt he looked exactly like a Gold Rush prospector. On his flatbed slumped a '71 Ford Bronco which had clearly seen better days. In any other circumstances, I'd be delighted to photograph such a wreck ... its windows were blown out, most of its panels were rusted, and it had an appealing patina of green mold, the sort of picturesque decay that I've spent decades documenting. But now it all seemed just too sad for words ... two old vehicles, far past their prime, being taken out to pasture. I thought of how horses used to get shot if they couldn't be ridden anymore.

Thomas indicated that my car seemed to be in pretty salvageable shape, though, and that she was likely to undergo a refurb rather than being scrapped altogether. This gave me a ray of hope that perhaps Pamela might yet play a special role in somebody else's life, and that just because our road had come to an end did not mean she herself was destined for oblivion.

I told him a little about the vehicle he was buying, how famous she was, how there were loyal followers around the world who had been cheering her on for the past several years. "This isn't just a car," I said. "Pamela's been through a lot. She's special." I told him about the memoir I published last year, about how we had traveled together over the whole country and seen the most incredible sights. He nodded and smiled and feigned interest, as he pointed out the numerous papers for me to sign off on. Then he handed me a check, which seemed pitifully small in my hands, and he set about hooking my poor old hooptie onto the tow rig.

I'd witnessed this ritual so many times ... the slow humiliating whine as my baby got hoisted into position, the rattle of chains around her undercarriage, the sinking helpless feeling as the tow truck lurched forward. I had already seen her get pulled away when her radiator blew up in Boulder, when her starter crapped out in Bothell, when her fuel lines got clogged in St. Augustine. But this time was different. This time there would be no joyful reunion at the shop. I stood across the street, and the reality of the situation hit me full force. Pamela, the car who had transformed my entire life, who had freed me from a desperately unhappy stint in Kansas City, who had framed most of America in her windshield, was leaving me forever. In a few minutes, she would disappear, and that would be that.

It's different in the movies, when a love story wraps up. Your heroes ride off into the sunset together, and the music swells, and THE END appears in big fancy letters over the clouds. And as the credits roll and you stand and brush popcorn from your lap you enjoy a tidy sense of closure. There is a clear sense of something having been finished, of a narrative having reached its rightful conclusion. My last few minutes with this minivan, on the other hand, felt weirdly anticlimactic and unsatisfying. I caught a few seconds of video on my phone as the tow truck began its journey. Then I just stood in the middle of the road with my arms hanging limply at my sides and watched as the most meaningful possession of my life rolled away, growing smaller and smaller until she reached the end of the block. And then the tow truck rounded the corner, and left my view altogether, and my Pamela was finally gone.

"Goodbye, old girl," I said, wiping my eyes. "Goodbye." Then I went back to my studio, returned to my easel, picked up a brush, and began the search for a new frontier.

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