Darien Fawkes had a deep, deep sense of misgiving when he stepped out of his government-assigned ride onto the tarmac, in front of what appeared to be a shuttlecraft, or rocket, that he was almost certain his new employers expected him to get on board. Not that he’d liked much about the last twenty four hours (or the last few months, if he were honest), being hustled about and briefed and debriefed like a raw recruit. The only real gist he’d picked up was that he was being ordered to recruit two more saps like himself for official duty, although what duty he couldn’t tell you. And he had to perform this little service on the Moon.
That was the part that was really giving him trouble.
Darien stuffed his hands in his pockets and slumped his shoulders, staring up at the machine he was soon to be strapped into and blasted out of Earth’s atmosphere in. He was about to say something nasty about it out loud when a man a few years older than himself walked up to him, tapping him on the shoulder. Darien turned, seeing a thin, graying man in a flight suit. His face bore some nasty scars, but he still smiled at Darien, who returned the favour. The pilot extended his hand.
“You must be Fawkes,” he said, shaking Darien’s hand roughly, “...I’m Stringfellow Hawke. I’ll be driving today. Ready to go?”
Darien shook the man’s hand, pulling away uneasily. “Uhhh...listen, mister...Hawke. Nothing against you or anything, I’m sure you’re a great pilot, but...do we really have to do this?”
Hawke heard the jitters in Fawkes’ voice, and just smirked. “I’ve got orders that say we do, Mister Fawkes. Is there anything wrong?”
“No! No, course not...but...” Darien swallowed, hoping to mask his pre-launch distress a little better than he had been thus far. “I mean, come on...can’t I just take the portal? Be a lot quicker, you gotta admit...”
“Portals are bad for you, Mister Fawkes,” Hawke replied succinctly, “...I’m surprised they haven’t explained that to you yet.”
Darien blinked a few times, not quite understanding what the pilot was talking about. In response, Hawke smiled and patted Darien on the shoulder.
“We can talk on the way,” he said amiably,”...let’s get you on board.”
Within the hour, Stringfellow Hawke had secured Darien on board the ship, an unremarkable looking spacecraft with the name ‘Enterprise’ written in large letters on the side. Darien squirmed slightly in his straps as Hawke finished his pre-flight routine.
“So where’s this hunk of tin come from?” he asked, still uncomfortable, “...thought we had more advanced birds than this now.”
Hawke answered while he jotted down instrument readings. “It’s a refurbished model, actually...smaller scale version of a deep-space prototype that was stolen in 1975. Strictly for short-range jumps like today. Don’t worry though...it’s plenty up to spec. Did some work on her myself. She’ll get you where you want to go, Fawkes.”
Fawkes tried to take that advice and not worry...though it was well beyond him to think of a trip to the Moon as ‘short-range’. “What about that trouble they had up there a few years back,” Darien asked, trying not to sound worried, “...with their waste stockpiles? I heard they almost blew. I mean, is that stuff safe?”
“Safe now,” Hawke replied, thinking back to 1999, when he led an emergency mission to Moonbase Alpha to prevent a full-scale explosion of about sixteen thousand tons of nuclear waste. He shuddered when he thought of how close they came...a detonation could have reduced the Moon to rubble, or at the very least shifted it’s orbit drastically. All averted because of a man who got his newspaper a day early. Hawke grinned. Nice to think that sometimes, fate was on your side.
“So Fawkes,” Hawke asked, changing the subject as he got ready to start launch procedures, “...what’s on the Moon, anyhow? I mean, you obviously don’t WANT to go, so...unless it’s classified, of course...”
“Call me Darien,” he replied, “...and yeah, it’s classified. But I’ve never been a big stickler for that crap. I’m supposed to pick up some egghead named Cranston and some girl, someone called Eve Edison. Ever hear of ‘em?”
“Can’t say as I have,” Hawke answered, shaking his head, “...are they on Alpha?”
“Moonbase Two, actually. Someplace called the ‘Refuge’. It’s like a private laboratory, workshop...something. Damn Moonies...”
Fawkes stopped talking when he noticed Hawke was quietly sniggering to himself. “What’s so funny?”
Composing himself, Stringfellow eased himself back into his seat and tightened the straps. “Darien,” he said, keying the ignition sequence, “...I think you’re gonna have a memorable visit.”
Without giving Darien a chance to inquire further, Hawke fired the main engines and achieved lift-off, and after a few seconds Darien was awkwardly sinking back into his seat under the tremendous pressure. It was, to his thinking, an entirely unpleasant and disturbing way to begin his mission. He hoped it would end better.
The trip to Moonbase Alpha took a little under three hours, which Darien had to admit, wasn’t bad at all. Once they had landed and docked, Hawke (who now insisted that Darien call him ‘String’, a proposition Darien found...odd) pointed him in the right direction for hopping a rover to Moonbase Two while he stayed with the Enterprise. Darien shook hands with the pilot and set out alone, admiring the architecture and silently praying there was enough oxygen for everyone.
It took Darien another few hours to finally make his way to Moonbase two...he quickly found lunar cartography to be sorely lacking. Either that or he just had no sense of direction. Okay, he probably shouldn’t have stopped to chat up that tour guide he’d met (who didn’t seem to have the slightest clue about the layout up here herself), but she just seemed so thrilled that he’d recognized her from those bug spray commercials years back. Still, it was almost too easy, and he’d begged off.
Whatever. By now he was quite anxious to collect his new teammates and get back to the surface ASAP, a feeling that had only grown by the time he finally arrived at the rather remote entrance to the Refuge.
As he crossed a mechanized walkway towards the designated entry, Darien thought about what he’d just said...teammates. He was here recruiting his own partners...partners in what, he didn’t know, any more than he knew who it was he’d been sent to get, beyond the cursory information he’d been fed back in Washington. That Collins character seemed to take real delight in withholding info from him, like he wanted to see how he would manage. Like he was watching a rat in a cage. He reminded Darien of a warden.
Darien got off in front of a simple squared-off doorway, and his eyes were immediately drawn to small plaque off to the left. A series of rules were inscribed upon them, some kind of code of conduct for behaviour inside. Darien frowned...more rules. Terrific. He scanned the list with only mild interest, which rapidly turned to curiosity as he tried to make sense of some of the more unusual items on the list.
“Choose your words carefully,” Darien read, mumbling to himself, “...as they may be interpreted literally by some of the inhabitants. Avoid references to appliances or machines of that type, as it may be considered offensive to some...”
He froze in mid-sentence, the meaning of the rules suddenly sinking in. Darien half-turned, staring at the doorway he was about to walk through, finally realizing what was waiting on the other side. He grimaced.
“Robots...”
Without thinking, Fawkes plowed a frustrated fist into the rule plaque, regretting it a moment later when his knuckles began throbbing. He looked about to make sure no one had seen him, then swallowed his pride, thought of his mission, and, after one final thought about whether or not prison would REALLY have been so bad, stepped inside the doorway.
The door swished shut behind him with a smooth mechanical hum, and Darien took a cautious look about the refuge. At first glance it was unimpressive, just a regular common area. There were a few individuals milling about, whom he eyed warily. They LOOKED human, but...
Before Darien could get a closer look, he felt a tug on his pantleg. He looked down and saw a little girl in a pretty red dress staring back up at him...she couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years old. After making a quick scan around to see if anyone was looking for her, Darien crouched down and smiled.
“Well, hi there, sweetheart,” he said, putting on his best friendly voice, “...what’s your name?”
“Vicky,” the little girl replied, staring at Darien sullenly, “...but sometimes when I’m bad they call me Vanessa.”
Darien blinked. “Well...I’m sure an angel like you isn’t bad TOO often,” he offered, “...say, Vicky, are your parents here? Does your Mommy or Daddy work here, maybe?”
Vicky shook her head. “Daddy got tired of me not growing up,” she answered, “...so he built a new daughter.”
A sudden shiver rolled up Darien’s spine, and he involuntarily pulled away from Vicky. “You...” he gulped, looking harder at the little girl before him, “...you’re a...a robot?”
Vicky nodded her head. “Would you be my new Daddy?” she asked plainly, and Darien started easing back a little more. He practically jumped out of his skin when he felt the hand on his shoulder, and he leapt to his feet. When he did, he saw a stunning woman standing next to him in a tasteful, but very well-fitted power suit. She grinned at him playfully, long silky hair shining in artificial light, then looked down at Vicky.
“Now Vicky,” she said, her voice sultry and smooth, “...I think this nice man is here on business. He doesn’t have time to be your Daddy today. Here,”
The woman raised an arm and waved, looking over to a burly gent playing solitaire at a table across the room. “Gregory! Greg, darling!”
Turning, the man waved back and set his cards down, rising and jogging over to where Darien and the others were. He smiled a friendly smile, and the woman at Darien’s side smiled back.
“Greg, would you mind terribly watching little Vicky? She’s feeling neglected, I think.”
Greg grinned expansively. “Of course! Hey Vick,” he said, bending over, “...you want to play some games with uncle Yoyo?”
Vicky nodded enthusiastically, taking Greg’s hand. He looked back up. “Who’s your friend, Rhoda?” He asked to the woman, who Darien now took to be ‘Rhoda’.
“Just met him myself,” she said, “...how about it, mister?”
Rhoda fixed Darien with a particularly suggestive raised eyebrow, and he tried to keep his cool as he answered. “It‘s Fawkes,” he finally stammered out, “...Darien Fawkes. I’m, uh, here to see someone called Cranston..?”
“Oh, Billy!” Rhoda said, laughing, “...darling Billy. I can take you to him, if you like.”
Rhoda smiled, and Darien felt ten years old. “That’d be great,” he answered.
“Hiya Darien,” the man called Greg suddenly chimed in, extending his free hand for a shake, “...I’m Greg Yoyonovich. Pleasure to meet you.”
Darien shook Greg’s hand, wincing at the grip. “Likewise,” he said through gritted teeth, his suspicions about whether Greg, too, was a robot having been swept away. They all looked so blasted REAL, though. And Rhoda...well, now, there was a piece of work.
“Thank you again, Gregory,” Rhoda said, leading Darien across the room towards another doorway. They walked through it, having to step aside for a near-parade of several gorgeous ladies in sequined, and highly revealing, costumes. A few of them winked in Darien’s direction, and he spent a few seconds trying not to stare, before Rhoda sighed with disgust.
“Fembots,” she said, annoyed, “...no class at all.”
Shaking his head, Darien let himself be led down a long corridor. “I hope you’ll forgive our little Vicky,” Rhoda said, “...Hymie usually takes care of her, but he’s on the surface visiting a sick friend.”
“Well, that’s...that’s rough,” Darien replied, not sure how to conduct himself in conversation with a machine. He was trying to remember all the rules from outside.
“So, Darien, what do you do? Engineer? Designer?”
Fawkes shook his head. “FBI,” he said, “...here on some hush-hush business. You understand.”
Rhoda looked impressed. “Really? How wonderful. I used to work for NASA, myself. What does our Billy have to do with the FBI?”
“I can’t really...hey, wait a minute,” Darien stopped, a sudden thought occurring to him, “...this ‘Billy’, he’s not...I mean, is he a...?”
Rhoda smiled. “He’s quite human, Mister Fawkes,” she answered, “...a little stiff for my tastes, but who am I to complain? Come along.”
Darien complied, not even wanting to ask about ‘Eve Edison’ and push his luck. At least he was meeting ONE human being on this pickup. He scowled inwardly as Rhoda led him through a set of sliding double doors into some sci-fi type lab...Collins must be having a good laugh about all this right now. They’d have to have a talk upon his return about disclosure...he was worse than the Fatman!
Rhoda pointed towards a man in a white lab coat across the room, staring out a thick window. “That’s him,” she told him, and Darien took a good look at the guy in question...short blond hair, glasses...looked normal enough. There was a little brunette standing beside him looking out the window with him...one hell of a figure on that one, he noticed. There were a couple of other lab rats milling about, some robotic odds and ends scattered around being tinkered with, nothing much that interested Darien, although he did do a double take at a disembodied head covered in a mass of tangled fur. A girl was poking about at it, whatever it was. Like a gorilla head or something. Weird.
He looked back at his target, and wondered if the vixen with Cranston was Edison. He hoped so.
“I’ll leave you here, Darien,” Rhoda said, leaning in and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, making him flush. “If you’re back on Luna anytime, look me up. My AIM is AF709.”
Darien smirked, curious despite himself. “Sure..yeah, I’ll give you a ring sometime.”
Rhoda looked amazed. “Why Darien,” she said, shocked, “...I wasn’t expecting a proposal...”
“What?” Darien flustered, trying to remember what he’d just said. “No, no...I meant that I’d...I’ll CALL you, and...I gotta go. Official business.”
Smiling and excusing himself, Darien practically ran away from the doors and across the room, leaving a mildly confused Rhoda to shrug and leave the lab empty handed. Darien looked over his shoulder and saw her go, breathing a sigh of relief. As a result, though, he all but bowled over the pretty brunette he’d been admiring a moment earlier. He pulled back as fast as he could, overbalancing himself and toppling onto his butt. The girl recovered from Darien’s collision quickly, turning to offer him a helping hand almost immediately.
“Watch your step there, mister!” She said cheerily, leaning over and extending her hand towards Darien, who took a moment before grasping it...she was even more impressive from the front, he thought to himself, before finally putting his hand in hers. She gave a yank, and he all but flew back onto his feet. His hopes about this one being human were quickly fading.
“Oof...hey, thanks, miss...Edison?”
Darien asked uncertainly, and the brunette responded with a goofy grin. “That’s not my name,” she corrected him, “...my name is April! What’s your name?”
“Darien Fawkes,” he replied, and by now the egghead was facing him too, and he caught a glimmer of recognition behind his glasses when he said his name. “I think you’re expecting me...you’re Cranston, right?”
Pausing a moment to take Darien in, Cranston eventually reached out and shook his hand. “Call me Billy,” he said, “...and yes, I was told about you, Mister Fawkes.”
“Darien,” he corrected, trying to size the egghead up. He looked about his age, though his face looked prematurely aged somehow. And he didn’t sound entirely thrilled at Darien’s presence here.
Well, neither am I, Darien thought defensively. He tried to recall what little briefing he’d received on Billy Cranston.
“So...I hear you just got back from...where was it...Aquitar?”
Billy nodded somberly, offering no further information. Darien smiled politely. “Never heard of it, myself...where is that, in the middle east or something?”
“It’s a little further away than that,” Billy answered with a sigh, “...also? Not as dry.”
“Hmmm,” Darien mumbled, not really interested in this conversation, “...listen, you know why I’m here, right? The basics, anyway?”
“You’re here to collect Eve Edison for some covert Government work,” Billy replied, turning back to the window, “...ignoring my own protests that she’s not field-ready yet. Which was when I got shanghaied into accompanying her as a tech consultant. Something ELSE I protested.”
Backing up a pace, Darien put his hands up in a surrender pose. “Easy, Doc...I’m just a messenger boy. I didn’t exactly volunteer for this duty myself, y’know.”
Billy slumped a little, putting his hands along a railing. “Sorry,” he muttered, “...it’s just that I’ve had a...”
“She’s coming back! She’s coming back!”
April shouted gleefully, clapping her hands and dashing towards the airlock chamber door. Darien watched with interest.
“Who’s back?” He asked, looking back to Billy, “...this ‘Eve Edison’? She a robot too, I’m guessing?”
Billy took a glance outside. “Eve’s a robot, yes,” he answered, “...crime-prevention prototype. I did some of the third-stage work on her. She was out doing some low-G test exercises, but...I don’t think this is her. I haven’t seen her come back yet...”
Darien shook his head. “Then, who..?”
A quick decontamination cycle finished, and the inner airlock chamber door rolled loudly open. As it did, a beautiful blond girl hopped sprightly inside, a huge grin on her face. April smiled back.
“Did you see me?” the blond asked, excited, “...I bounced SUPER high! Gravity is lower on the surface of the moon than on Earth,” she added in scholarly fashion, and April seemed to be fascinated.
“That’s VERY exciting!” April replied, clapping again. She and the blond then clasped hands and bounced together like schoolgirls. Darien backed away and sidled up to Billy.
“Doc,” he asked, whispering sideways, “...are ALL robots hot chicks?”
Billy just shrugged. “ A surprising percentage, actually, yeah.”
Eyeing the delighted pair of bouncy girl robots before him, Darien stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Guess that’s probably on account of most of the scientist-types who build them being shy, quiet, repressed bookworms who never get out, huh?”
Casting a quick, annoyed glance at the smirking Darien, Billy folded his arms in front of him. “I get out,” he mumbled, and Darien chuckled. Meanwhile, the ‘girls’ had calmed down, and April was leading the blonde over towards Darien and Billy.
“She did really good!” April announced, looking at Billy, “...didn’t she do good?”
Billy grinned. “She did just fine, April. I’d say she’s a hundred percent again. Wasn’t sure about the legs at first, but...”
“They look fine from here, Doc,” Darien noted, still wearing a smirk as he leaned up against the glass. Billy frowned, but the blond girl smiled appreciatively.
“Thank you!” She said, waving in Darien’s direction, and April stepped in between them.
“Buffy,” she said to the blond girl, “...this is my new friend Darien. Darien, this is Buffy, my best friend!”
Holding back a laugh at the sound of the name ‘Buffy’, Darien managed a polite wave back at the blond. “Good to meet you....Buffy. Hey Doc,” he said, turning to Billy, “...did you name her, or what?”
“I didn’t..!” Billy stopped himself, taking a deep breath, before something over Darien’s shoulder caught his eye. He was glad for the distraction.
“She’s coming in,” he said, directing Darien’s attention to a woman bounding near, sans oxygen mask or space suit, across the lunar plain and towards their position. It was an odd sight, to be sure, and Darien had to blink a few times before his eyes would believe it. Robot, he reminded himself, robot. Another babe, too, he noticed. Were all scientists perverts or something?
“That’s her, huh?” Darien mused, watching as the dark-haired woman slowed and made her way to the outer airlock, “...will she be ready to book once she gets in? I’m a little anxious to get an atmosphere around me again, you know?”
Billy thought about that. “Once she clears de-com, I’ll just need to make a few quick adjustments to her sensor array and then, yes, we should...”
A loud klaxon cut Billy off, and a red warning light over the airlock door started flashing ominously. Darien’s eyes darted about anxiously, looking for trouble. April and Buffy looked about curiously, while Billy ran towards a nearby control console.
“Oh no,” he muttered, furiously stabbing at switches and buttons. “...God DAMN it, no!”
“What’s happening?” Darien demanded, following Billy and looking over his shoulder at a screen full of technical jargon that meant exactly nothing to him, “...what’s with the sirens?”
Darien looked back at the airlock, still sealed on both sides. A few feet away, Buffy was assuming a defensive stance in front of a cowering April.
“Don’t worry, April,” the blond robot declared, “...I’ll protect you!”
“Eve’s been infected,” Billy said, not turning from his console, “...she must have gotten too close to the quarantine zone. I KNEW she needed more time...”
“Infected?” Darien sounded dubious. “She’s a robot, Doc, she can’t get the chicken pox.”
“Have you ever heard of the Machine Empire?” Billy asked, and Darien frowned.
“I think so,” he said, thinking hard, “...some news alerts a few years ago. Clockwork bad guys from outer space, some crap like that. I heard they’d been wiped out.”
“Pretty much were,” Billy continued, “...but there’s a catch.”
“Such as?” Darien was starting to get nervous. Billy tried to activate several monitors, but nothing but static showed.
“Drop a bomb on a city,” he said, working all the while, “...and you kill all the people. But life survives, on the microscopic scale. Bacteria, germs, disease. That sort of thing.”
Darien started putting Billy’s train of thought together. “And this Machine Empire...you’re saying they left behind..?”
“Nano-bacterium,” Billy stated, “...the robotic equivalent of an airborne virus. Attacks their central processor, starts to rewire their main drives and programs, assimilate them into the Empire mainframe. First showed up last year...we lost Pops to it before we managed to contain it in an area around the remains of Zed’s Palace.”
“Who’s Pops?”
“Long story,” Billy said, frustration rising in his voice, “...and no time. Dammit! She’s disabled the outer cameras already!”
Billy clenched a fist, as the girl Darien had spotted working on the robot-monkey head ran up to assist him. She too, however, seemed quickly stymied.
“Who cares about cameras?” Darien demanded, “...how do we fix this?”
“We don’t!” Billy shouted back, standing to face Darien, “...the nanovirus is alien and virtually incurable. Eve has to be either contained or destroyed before she can infect the base systems with the nanites. We have some new defense cannons installed out there,”
Billy paused, pointing out the window towards the lunar landscape. “...but the sensors aren’t online yet. I can control them from here, but I can’t target her unless I can SEE her.”
Darien stared out the window for a moment, his mind racing, before he figured it out. “Get the cannons up and running, Cranston,” he ordered, running over to the airlock, “...I’ll get you something to shoot at.”
Billy started to shout after Darien. “You can’t open the airlock! If she gets inside with the virus, it could...”
“She’s not getting in,” Darien said, calmly putting a palm up against the airlock door, furrowing his brow in concentration. A second later, the door started fading from view, then the wall around and finally the outer chamber, until the whole area seems to have shimmered right out of existence. April and Buffy stared amazed, and Billy too had to stifle a moment of downright shock.
“That’s incredible,” he sputtered, “...some kind of quicksilver emission? Is it natural, or...”
“Focus, Doc, FOCUS...”
“That’s Eve!” April stated, smiling at the robot outside, waving. “Hi Eve!”
Billy shook his head and collected himself, especially when he spotted Eve Edison, furiously hammering at a section of invisible panelling outside. He turned and keyed in an activation sequence, springing a menacing looking cannon up from a concealed location several meters behind Eve. He toggled the controls a little, glancing back over his shoulder to see how he was lining up, then handed the controls over to his assistant.
“A little to the left, please, Saffron,” he said, nervous, and the girl obliged. Billy’s eyes narrowed.
“Now, Doctor Cranston?” Saffron asked, a little harried, “...should I fire..?”
“I’m sorry, Eve...” Billy whispered to himself, before shouting, “...Fire!”
Saffron jabbed at a button, and the same moment a burst of electric plasma burst forward from the barrel of the defense cannon, slamming into Eve Edison and pinning her against the transparent outer shell of the Refuge. She twitched frantically for several seconds, bright sparks snaking and arcing all around her until the barrage ceased, when she simply keeled over onto her back. Everyone waited a few moments, making sure she was fully out. When she failed to move, everyone who could breathed a sigh of relief. Buffy just frowned.
“I don’t understand,” she said curiously, “...where did the wall go?”
A moment later that question was moot, as Darien pulled away, and the Quicksilver he’d ‘lent’ to the structure flaked away onto the floor, returning visibility to the walls once again. After a short stretch he turned and walked past April and Buffy to the console, where Billy was patting his assistant on the shoulder.
“Good work, Saffron,” he said, and the girl flushed.
“Oh...it was nothing, Doctor Cranston...lucky shot, really...”
“Hate to break up the date,” Darien interrupted, pushing himself between the two, “...but we just ray-gunned one half of my mission objective here. Can you fix her?”
Billy shook his head glumly. “There’s no fix here, Darien. Eve will have to be rebuilt from scratch. We’re talking months at the minimum.”
“Months? I’ve got about half an hour!!”
Before Billy could reply, Darien felt a sharp smack on his arm. He turned and Saffron was glaring up at him.
“Don’t you shout at him!” She ordered, tight lipped. Darien started to protest when Billy intervened, yanking her away.
“It’s all right, Saffron,” he told her, leading her away from Darien, “...why don’t you put in a call to Doctor Russell, and see if she can spare a retrieval team for Eve?”
Saffron took a deep breath and smiled. “Of course, Doctor.”
“Then call Ransom, make yet another polite but firm request to beef up security around the quarantine perimeter. And get George Bailey to start working on reconstruction.”
Saffron looked doubtful. “He won’t like that,” she said, and Billy looked less than sympathetic.
“His transfer to Earthforce isn’t official yet,” he reminded her, “...he still works here. Go on. And thanks again.”
Saffron smiled and gushed before dashing off to fulfil her new duties. Billy turned back, finding a less-that-pleased Darien Fawkes awaiting him. He sighed.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Darien,” he said, throwing up his arms, “...do you think I WANTED to do that? Eve was a friend.
That made Darien pause. “Friend?” he repeated, “...it was a machine, Doc. You DO need to get out more often.”
Billy just frowned, and Darien continued. “But listen, man, you don’t know the kind of people I work for...scary people, I’m serious. They sent me here for a robot-chick, and that’s what I’m bringin’ them!”
Half-turning, Darien pointed out towards April. “What about her?”
Billy was unimpressed. “April? I don’t think so...as I understood it, this was going to be a mission requiring some tactical capacity. April is more...” Billy paused, clearing his throat, “...civilian, programming-wise.”
Darien wasn’t thwarted yet, however. “What about the blond?” He asked, “...Bippy, or Betty, whoever?”
Suddenly turning towards the two men, Buffy stared back at Darien and smiled. “I’m Buffy,” she corrected him eagerly, “...I slay vampires!”
Hearing that, Darien waved politely and looked back at Billy. “What is she, retarded or something?”
“Long story,” he answered, “...but she does have extensive combat programming, lots of field experience...I was a little worried about her structural integrity after we repaired her, but she seems to be stronger than ever. And we CAN spare her.”
Buffy smiled widely, though Darien looked rather glum. He liked the brunette...not that the leather jacket and miniskirt weren’t working well for ‘Buffy’ there.
What the Hell, Darien decided. A robot’s a robot, right? So it was a little eccentric, and fancied itself a vampire killer...surely Collins wouldn’t care about something like that..?
“I’ll take her,” Darien agreed, “...is she ready to go now? I REALLY just wanna find String and get off this rock.”
“Oh, I can have her ready in a few minutes,” Billy said, smiling, “...but I’m afraid we’ll all be in quarantine lockdown for the next four hours.”
“I have some string!” Buffy said urgently, raising her hand. Darien rubbed his head gingerly.
“I so want this day to be over...”
