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Chapter 23

"I think we're going to need a change of plan," Xerian said unhappily. "We're trying to take on an entire starship ourselves, and to be blunt, it's not working out. Lautrec is out for the count, I've lost a limb, Rexx has lost his h-head and we've not really achieved anything more to show for it than trolling the Emperor. We haven't even been able to rescue poor 'Zuki!
"We've been caught twice and only escaped by sheer bad luck and incompetence on the Emperor's part, plus the fact that Quirk's combat software is more m-murderous than whatever's installed in his own men. But they're learning, and next time, we're not going to be so lucky."

"It does feel like the noose is tightening around us," Niall sighed. "You're right. We need help."

"What do you want to do, then?" Quirk asked. "I mean, we do have a bunch of ex-mooks if you think we need more manpower..."

"No," Xerian sighed. "We need to contact the planet. We need to at least warn them, get them to mobilise."

"And will they listen?" Lautrec asked. "They wouldn't listen to us before..."

"No, but they may listen to Eris," Xerian said.

"There is a comms two decks down from here," Toast said. "But while the receiver is capable of picking up subetherwave broadcasts, I don't think the transmitter will function properly with the cloaking device up. We'd have to take that down first."

"Usually I'd say 'pick one goal and stick to it'," Niall sighed. "It feels like we're flip-flopping between our aims a lot. But I can't fault your reasoning. I guess I'd better talk to the ex-mooks and see if any of them happen to know about the cloaking device technology."

"While you do that, I'm going to fetch some supplies from the armoury," Quirk said.

* * *

"Look what I found!" Quirk trilled, returning to the hideout with a severed arm clutched in his hands like a dog with a really fantastic stick.

"No..!" Xerian looked utterly appalled. "That's a Synth arm! There's only one place you could have got that..."

"You'd better not have defrosted Rexx to get it," Toast said, eyes narrowing.

"Actually, I can think of quite a few places you could have got that," Niall said. "Especially if you did get it from the planet somehow. For all we know, Quirk held up a Synth Boutique at gunpoint. 'GIMME THE ARM! NOW!'"

"It's not funny!" Xerian sobbed. "You're not helping! That arm has most likely been ripped off from one of the Synths who was attacking us!"

"I didn't kill them," the protogen said indignantly.

"...I had him killed," Niall quoted. Quirk looked angry. "I didn't do that either! I left them in the corridor with their legs tied."

"It was just a reference nobody will get," Niall sighed. "Now, Xerian, as distasteful as this is, I think installing a stolen arm is going to be in your best interests, at least until we can get you back to the planet."

"Presumably there won't be any rejection issues?" Toast asked.

"The nanites from the donor Synth will reset and reload the local blueprint," Eris said. "Limbs are designed to be hot-swappable in case of emergencies like this. Though it may make Xerian clumsy for a bit since there are likely to be subtle differences he'll need to adapt to."

"If we get out of this, hopefully you'll be able to return it to its owner. If they still want it back," Lautrec said.

Xerian nodded reluctantly, and took the limb from Quirk. Then he stood there for a few moments as if waiting for something to happen. Quirk and Toast noticed this and stared back at him. Eris was looking at the wall and Lautrec had shut his eyes.

Niall's headwings tilted asymmetrically for a moment in confusion until the penny finally dropped.

"Oh!" he said. "Sorry! You want some privacy!"

"You weren't going to watch, were you...?" Eris asked, sounding shocked.

"You can go in my sleeping cupboard," Quirk said, punching a code on the wall. "I won't lock it."

"Thanks," Xerian said, and went inside with the plundered limb. "I'll just leave it open, that should be enough."

"What was all that about?" Toast asked.

"I'd forgotten that," Niall said. "Synths have modular limbs, but they don't like to swap parts in public. It's a taboo. Makes it too obvious that they're robotic rather than flesh-and-blood."

"I'm flesh-and-blood and I have replaceable limbs," Quirk pointed out. "Don't these worlds have prosthetics?"

"That's different," Eris said, looking embarrassed. "I guess customs don't always make sense. You're from different civilisations anyway, different rules apply. Even so, Xerian will find it difficult to swap limbs with people watching, and the thought of observing him doing it... It's distasteful."

"Took me a while to get it," Lautrec added. "We had a few embarrassing moments at first."

Shortly afterwards, Xerian re-emerged, flexing his hand experimentally. He brushed the wall and began picking up small objects to ensure that it was responding correctly.

"So, how did you get that arm?" Toast asked, watching as the android fumbled and worked to improve his dexterity.

"Well, I took Xerian's forearm," Quirk said. "See, it's burned away at the elbow. I figured if I melted the floor a bit and left a charred limb there, they might think that I'd killed Xerian in a fit of pique!"

"I see," Toast said. "I'm not sure whether that would be better or worse."

"Anyway, eventually a bunch of mad Synths came along and saw it. Most of them took it back to the 'slug king', but one of them was left behind to stand guard, so I waylaid him."

"Such a report is likely to confuse the Emperor," Niall said. "I say we move now, try and take out the cloaking device while he's distracted."

"Then let's do it," Xerian said decisively.

* * *

"This is the cloak room," Toast said. Niall looked at him strangely. "That may not have translated perfectly," he said. "Where I come from, a cloakroom is a room for keeping coats. With hooks and suchlike to let them dry out."

"Ah," Toast said. "We don't wear full-body clothing much, except protective equipment. Gloves are popular as fashion accessories, especially when working with other races as our claws can be alarming to some. The Emperor always likes to wear black gloves, and rumour says he is also fond of boots and other garments. As is Quirk," he added, nodding at the miniskirted assassin.

"Are you stalling?" Quirk snapped. "Get in there! We don't have much time."

"They may have ambushed the cloaking device control room," Toast pointed out. "The Emperor knows we mean to derail his plans, and may have ordered key areas to be staked out."

"I'll go," Niall said, putting his helmet back on. "I've got the best armour here."

"Unless they have plasma weapons," Toast said. "Even if your armour survives it may melt your internal circuitry. No... I'm far less valuable. I should go."

Before they could stop him, the red protogen ran into the centre of the room. A look of shock appeared on his face. "Run!" he yelled. "It's a trap!" Two other protogens landed on top of him.

Niall ran in, assault rifle in hand, but one of the officers held out a hand in command.

"Stop!" he ordered, as the other one pushed a large gun against's Toast's head. "The traitor is ours! Back away slowly, or we'll destroy his implants!"

"Go!" Toast croaked. "Save yourselves!"

Niall lowered the weapon and took a step back. "You know we've confiscated all your foot-soldiers," he pointed out defiantly. "And I don't think the Emperor has too many Officers to spare. So what's to stop us from following you? Sniping you from a distance to get our friend back?"

"If you want to follow us to the Emperor, he'll be happy to see you," the protogen retorted. "You'll be doing our work for us! But to answer your question..."

"The slugs are calling," a group of demented voices chorused, and a squad of black Death Synths came down the corridor, firing aimlessly at the walls.

"Run!" Xerian urged. "We can't fight those poor Synths! We'll have to retreat!"

"Dammit," Quirk said. "I'll just shoot their legs."

"The hell you will," Eris snapped, and the group turned tail, with the mocking laughter of the officer ringing in their ears.

* * *

Toast was frog-marched down corridor after corridor by the two officers. They had gone quiet now, as if sombrely contemplating what was going to happen to Toast.

Finally, they turned into a warehouse, where the Emperor was stood, dressed in a shiny black outfit, like Queen Admaria about to pass a death sentence.

"Oh... Toast, Toast," Lord Cyra said, shaking his head. "You've had your chances, I'm afraid."

"I'm sorry, your Majesty," Toast said. "I know I owe you much, and I wish I could serve you with all my heart, but what you are doing is wrong! I can't help you enslave innocent aliens!"

"I know," Lord Cyra said. "And normally I would have you lobotomised for that, so that your body may still serve our cause usefully even though your mind rebels against me. But alas... We are still having technical issues there. That accursed kangaroo has locked us out of the control system for the healing suites."

"Are you going to shoot me, then?" Toast asked quietly.

"No. Instead, you are going to put these on," the Emperor said, picking up a frilly dress made from PVC and some curious high-heeled boots designed for a protogen's digitigrade feet. With an expression of relief, the frightened cyborg eagerly donned them.

"Good," the Emperor said, looking at him approvingly. "Now..."

Toast started as the officers grabbed him, forced his hands behind his back and tied them with a leather strap.

"No..." he whimpered, an expression of terror in his eyes as the noose dropped down in front of him, the macabre object reflecting in the polished surface of his visor.

"Yes," the Emperor crooned. "Goodbye, Toast."

A look of despair filled the red protogen's features as the rope closed around his neck and lifted him up, crushing his throat and silencing his protests. He kicked and struggled for a few minutes, and then everything went dark.