Nic and Cleo's Bits and Bobs

[eltonn]

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font credit

#1120

save
seedcakes

Cleoptkis

♀

#1119

Tommyttr


Nicodemus

♂

Bits & Bobs

[eltonn]

by save seedcakes
Class 2 Private Yacht

1: Outer Hull
2: Front Window
3: Portholes
4: Upper Cargo Hatch
4a: Lower Cargo Hatch
5: Mast
6: Back Deck
7: Rigging
8: Front Solar Sail
9: Rear Solar Sail
schematics by Tommyttr

[eltonn]

The 𐌀dventures of Ɲic and Ƈleo

Prologue: "Well, the short story is, we got out. Ya want the long story?"


art by save seedcakes
story by save seedcakes

note: the prologue is told by Dimitrius, the kalon that caused the rukus during which Nicodemus and Cleo escaped from the mines.

[✏] "'ave any of ya'll seen Dimitrius lately?" Quiern's gravelly voice echoed from his side of the table. The panopano took up most of the side by himself; he wasn't one for watching his weight. A mug filled with thick, black liquid was clutched in his small forearm, and he sipped at it while he waited for his two companions to respond.

Krikkin, a morkam sitting across from Quiern, shook his head, the spines along the back of his neck rattling softly. "He's gone rogue for a few days before, but he always comes back. I bet you three notes that he's returned by tomorrow."

A laugh erupted from Quiern's throat, and the panopano male fished the notes out of his armor pocket. "You're on! Ah say he gets back before nightfall!" A smirk spread across Krikkin's face, and his reptilian claws snatched up the money greedily. Quiern raised a bushy eyebrow. "Play fair this time, eh?" Krikkin snickered in return. He may or may not have already slipped the cash into his coinpurse.

Their third companion, a thin okironel by the name of Dunslough, raised a paw to stop the gambling going on in front of him. "I wouldn't take that bet, Q." Krikkin and Quiern turned their heads quizzically towards the rat-like guard. Dunslough twitched his large ears. "Well, you see...there was a big fight between some guards and two of the workers. And, the workers, um, escaped." He paused, waiting to see if his two friends made the connection. They didn't. "And, well, Dimitrius was kindof responsible for it. He hit that pink girl, the one with the yellow brother? Started a huge riot. We probably won't be seeing him anytime soon."

Krikkin blinked incredulously, then barked out a laugh. "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard! Our mild-mannered Dimi, hitting a worker? Stop listening to the worker-gossip, Dun. What a load of rubbish. He probably got distracted by a squirmoonk again, and is taking his time to get back." Quiern nodded in agreement. It was quite a silly idea. Dimitrius had to be one of the calmest kalons on the force. Quiern and Krikkin simply couldn't believe that their friend was being detained for assault.

"It's not a rumor, honest!" Dunslough stood up, his voice raising in pitch as his agitation grew. "I was there, I saw it! Look, I've got a cut on my waist from where the yellow one was strugglin' and I had to help Bolin drag 'im away!" He lifted up the armor over his hip just enough for his friends to see a shallow cut that could have been from Dunslough running into one of the bunkbeds for all they knew. It wouldn't be the first time. "And if you don't believe me, you can ask Rankin!"

This, of course, brought more chortles from the morkam and the panopano. Rankin was a known compulsive liar, who would say anything to save his own skin. Dunslough growled in frustration, his face flushed. Oh why, why wouldn't his companions believe him?


-


At least, that's what I imagined was going on back at the lunch table where we always gathered during mealtimes. Krikkin would be placing bets, anything for a competition. Quiern would side with whatever Krikkin said as long as the bets were in place, and Dunslough would be going mad trying to explain to them what happened. They, of course, wouldn't believe him until it was obvious that I wasn't returning. And by now, it would be. It had been at least seven, no, eight sets* since I had left. Beforehand, I always came back before it reached four. Otherwise, it would go on my record. It wouldn't take them long to realize something was up.

But, knowing them, they would be wrong about why I wasn't there. They would assume that I did the normal thing, followed orders and accepted my new assignment quietly and without complaint. They would assume that if they visited the kitchens or janitor's hall, they would see me toiling away with sweat on my brow. They would be very wrong.

If you want to know what happened, then listen. I'll tell.
For a price.


-


art by save seedcakes, of cleo's scar




She was pretty, for someone who had been working in the mines for most of her life. The kind of kalon that would catch everyone's eye, but once they actually began to talk to her, they realized that she wasn't right for them. That didn't stop me from letting her think she was special, even if she did get annoying at times. Maybe it was because of growing up in a kalon-eat-kalon world, having to steal to eat and fight with my siblings over scraps from the adults. Maybe I was sick of her constant pestering. Maybe I just wasn't feeling it that day. I don't know what caused me to do it, I just know that it happened. She was asking for an extra biscuit, a playful smirk on her face, and complimenting how I looked in my armor. Breakfast had ended over an hour ago, and she had already stopped working to ask for more food, but that was normal. She often did that so she could mess with the guards. Today, she wanted to mess with me. She reached out her soft pink paws to touch my arm, and my vision went red.


I slapped the worker.


I could see the blood welling in the deep gash across her left cheek, and inwardly knew that I would be punished. I had broken one of the few rules I was bound under; I must never touch the workers. It was obvious that no stone or tool had made the wound, and I was assigned to their sector today. There was no escape from the blame.

Her brother was nearby. The two were usually within eyesight of each other, so I should have been expecting it. Almost at once, the male charged at me, shoving me into the wall to protect his sister from further harm. I had no intention of hitting her again, but he didn't know that. I tried to grab my dagger, but the male held my arms pressed behind me. All I was able to do was struggle. Other guards rushed to my aide from adjacent tunnels, yet I still wasn't able to get him off. We were dragged apart, and that was the last I saw of him or his sister. I don't know what happened to them after that. Maybe they escaped. Maybe they were killed. I hope that they weren't killed. I don't want more guilt weighing on my conscience.

But I do know what happened to me. My fellow guards brought me to a back cavern, dropped me onto a chair, and then left. It was dark, but the mushrooms gave off enough glow to inspect myself for damage. My shoulders were sore from being thrown into hard stone, and it was obvious that they would be sporting purple bruises within a few hours. Other than that, my elbows were abraded but I was mostly unscathed. Unfortunately, the real damage wasn't to my body.

My captain came in the room soon after, a scowl on his face. He didn't have to say anything for me to know what was going on.

A guard who couldn't obey orders wasn't a guard at all.

I took off the colors that I had displayed so proudly since I was young, placing them in the captain's outstretched paw. He wordlessly pointed to the door, and I got up. Pausing at the door, I pulled off my armor, leaving the rough undergarments that were standard for all citizens of the mines. And then I walked out, leaving behind the one job that I had known all my life. They would want me to report to the barracks for reassignment, probably to something degrading. I didn't feel like spending the next 15 years of my life scrubbing chipped dishes and mopping dusty floors. So I turned and ran the other way. No one was there to stop me. Guards weren't supposed to disobey orders. But I was no longer a guard.

The caves felt darker without my protection. I had managed to smuggle my dagger out under my pant leg, but it did little to quell my fears. Mushrooms didn't provide much against the endless caverns that I spent most of my days in. I mentally traced the path to the exit. It wasn't too far. But what now? I've been pretty much exiled. I don't have a home to go back to. Nothing to fall back on. I heard shouts in the distance, possibly the captain realizing that I hadn't gone to where I was supposed to, possibly the other workers taking the turmoil as a chance to rise up. It didn't matter either way. I was leaving.

I mulled over these thoughts as I trotted towards my new life, seeing the walls but not really seeing them. It was strange, to not be able to call myself part of this place anymore. But...oddly freeing, in a way. Maybe I could explore the galaxy? I've always wanted to see the far side of Yzanzib...

*sets are the measurement of time used by guards in the mines, similar to the length of a single earth day. one set is the amount of time it takes for three guard shifts to occur. guards spend one shift guarding, one shift sleeping, and the last shift is spent on recreational time.

[Tommyttr]

The 𐌀dventures of Ɲic and Ƈleo

Minisode one: "One Kalon's Trash Is an Okironel's Treasure"

Chapter one: A Rocky Start


art by Midnightkitkat
story by Tommyttr

[✏] “I bet I can find the exit first!” Cleo yelled from afar, her voice echoing back and forth through the seemingly infinite stone passageways.

“In your dreams, map brain,” Returned Nicodemus, not amused by his sister’s little game.

Cleo could sense the anger in Nicodemus’ voice, and, in her regular fashion, dared him, “Then I bet I can get more lost than you can!”

“Oh please, you couldn’t find yourself lost if the place was pitch bla…!” Nicodemus began to mumble to himself, but slipped on the edge of a cliff, falling in. Flying through open space, Nicodemus thought quickly and reached out his paws, trying to grab the cave wall. Dust flew everywhere, a mushroom or two uprooted, and marks etched into the wall until he came to an abrupt stop. Nicodemus cringed in pain as his claws clung desperately to the ledge for his life.

He was about to call for his sister’s aid when he heard a very familiar chirp. There stood Cleo on the cliff’s peak, looking down upon her brother with a wry smirk, “Aw, looks like you’re really starting to get the hang of things,” She quipped cheerfully.

“Very funny, now toss me a line!” Nicodemus yelped with wide eyes.

Cleo stepped away from the cliff’s edge and shuffled through her messy backpack. Taking her brother’s request literally, Cleo began quoting Shakespeare just loud enough to hear. She found a sturdy stalagmite to anchor the rope onto and popped her pink head back over the ledge, “Did brother dearest hurt his widdle pawsiewawsies?” Cleo asked mockingly as she lowered the line.

Nicodemus, paying more attention to escaping the death trap he was in rather than listen to his sister, bit the line with his blunt back teeth and began scaling the cliff’s wall.

Cleo, not giving her brother a break, continued to quote Shakespeare in between grunts as she pulled her brother to safety. “You little bean!” Said Cleo playfully, reminding Nicodemus of his shorter stature, “Aren’t you supposed to be the responsible one?”

“Parting…is such sweet,” Grunted Nicodemus as he climbed onto the ledge, “sorrow!”

Nicodemus shoved his rambling sister; Cleo squealed in surprise as she flew straight into a pile of goop, staining her wonderful pink coat. As she got up, she realized exactly what she was in: bat guano.

“Looks like this bean needs some fertilizer!” Cleo grabbed a pawful of the guano and threw it at her brother, who’d just gotten up from the ledge.

“Hey!” Nicodemus threw the guano right back at Cleo, missing. Cleo returned fire, Nicodemus took off his backpack to make him more maneuverable; soon, the cavern filled with playful laughter and the sound of guano against the walls.

Eventually, after an indeterminable amount of time passed, Nicodemus and Cleo climbed out of the cave’s opening, their expedition and fun ended.

“Goodness!” exclaimed Cleo as they came back into the sunlight, “you’re a mess!”

“Well at least I don’t need to be covered in guano to look like a mess,” Retorted Nicodemus. Cleo gave him a hard stare, then chuckled, “I mapped out a fresh pond not far from here, coming?”

“You go; I’ll store the loot,”

As Cleo broke off to the right, Nicodemus thought about what filled their satchels. In Cleo’s, a few rusty pipes, some shiny spider fibers, bones, and other miscellaneous junk, not including the random odds and ends she never cared to take out from previous expeditions. She always kept her backpack and satchel an unorganized mess, unlike her brother. Inside Nicodemus’ satchel were only a few sturdy jars, some priceless, yet pretty gemstones, and a buck knife, all neatly laid out in their appropriate pockets. It was a pretty good haul all things considered: they weren’t the only treasure hunters out there.

Prospectors, pirates, companies big and small, even tourists and frontiersmen were considered competition in these parts of the Valpires Nebula. Nic and Cleo were lucky enough to find a fresh cave, as was this one on Poliharpsi.

Nicodemus swiped at the lush, jungle vegetation with his claws, revealing a quaint little ship. Sails unfurled, it resembled a large, smoothened almond placed on its side, on its bow the words “Magnum Opus”. Nicodemus reached into his pocket and took out a wooden rod, which he plugged into a slot in the side of the ship. Pulling it down, the lever mechanism opened the cargo bay hatch. Trinkets jingled as the door creaked open, the gears aching painfully. Swinging back and forth, a sign behind the hatch read, “Nic and Cleo’s Bits and Bobs”. The door stopped a foot from the ground, malfunctioning. Nicodemus let out an unsatisfied sigh, kicking the side of the ship like a stubborn vending machine. The door came down with a crash, unscathed.

“Cleo…” grumbled the kalon, finding one of Cleo’s many bolts wedged in the gears. Nicodemus boarded the Magnum Opus, taking off both backpacks and satchels. He threw Cleo’s stuff into the mess that was the “odds and ends” section, which she practically owned. While, on his side, he deftly organized the contents of his packs and then proceeded to the upper deck.

When he’d scaled the ship’s only staircase, he noticed that Cleo had strewn her personal junk all over the floor, most likely in the rush to get adventuring. Nicodemus—for the most part—dealt with his sister’s untidy side of the ship, the magazine where shot was stored, and her room: but only because he could never convince her to clean up.

He’d have to ignore the mess expanding to his side of the ship until later; he moved quickly, the yellow streak he was darting back and forth between the ship. He slapped his favorite record, a soothing, nonchalant piece, into his makeshift phonograph to help keep his calm. Nicodemus and Cleo only had roughly ten minutes to get spaceborne before government and corporate prospectors arrived at Poliharpsi, according to the rumors, and neither of them wanted to cut it close. The solar sails had to be furled, set, and of course raised, the anchor pulled up, and all castings thrown. After everything was set for takeoff, Nicodemus exited the Magnum Opus and began pushing it from the stern. He was shortly joined by Cleo, having just finished her bath, her pink coat sparkling faintly in the dim light of dense jungle.

Neither of them spoke a word, taunting each other right now would only slow them down, and they had a ways to go before they could get spaceborne. Nicodemus, trying to take care of his baby, pushed lightly and cautiously, lest he scratch—or even worse, breach the hull. Cleo on the other hand was pushing with all her might, knowing that they had fresh Jakli gel keeping the undercarriage smooth and frictionless.

The ship neared the edge of the clearing, inching closer and closer to their target. The two stopped pushing and dashed for the open cargo hatch, Nicodemus bounding up the stairs to man the helm while Cleo stayed in the shop below.

"Here's hoping you can keep her steady!" Cleo hollered to her brother, closing the cargo hatch, even though they didn’t have time for antics.

That is, if they lived to see another day to taunt each other.

“All hands on deck, this is the captain speaking,” Nicodemus said playfully through the ship’s speaking tube, “We are about to depart from Poliharpsi: next stop Kilikatum. Please have all bags in a secure location and make yourself familiar to the emergency exits in your vicinity,”

“You’ll be out of one in a moment if we’re not off the ground!” retorted Cleo, thinking her response valid in light of the situation. She felt the scar along her left cheek. Not again. Never again, she thought.

Cleo usually stayed in the lower deck during takeoff, so that she could keep her inventory of odds, ends, and other junk in check, lest she lose one under the counter or something. The Magnum Opus rumbled, still sliding smoothly thanks to the Jakli gel. Suddenly, the ship felt like it’d come to a stop, but Nicodemus and Cleo knew better. The hull rattled violently as the Magnum Opus flew downward off the cliff’s edge. Nicodemus struggled with the helm, Cleo hassling to keep her trinkets from falling. In no time the ship would be a wreck and the delving duo a pair of dead pancakes.

The solar sails furled in the rushing wind, slowing their decent just enough for Nicodemus to win over the controls and pull up. There was a loud thwack! as they cleared the gorge, followed by a great conglomerate of noise on the lower deck.

Nicodemus wiped the sweat from his brow. That was too close. Cleo stomped upstairs in a fury, tail straight, the fur on her neck standing upright, and the rest of her pelt a complete mess. She stood in front of her brother with fire in her eyes. “Next time, I’m driving!” and she stormed off into her room. Ink was spilt all over the mapping desk, pieces of junk in the wrong sector of room, everything was a mess. Or, more of a mess than it should’ve been. Cleo cleared the ruined map of Poliharpsi she was working on off the desk. She sat down to take out a fresh scroll to replicate what she remembered of the map. Although she was exhausted from takeoff, it was going to be a long journey. She had the time.

[eltonn]

The 𐌀dventures of Ɲic and Ƈleo

Minisode one: "One Kalon's Trash Is an Okironel's Treasure"

Chapter two: Homer is where the heart is


art by Cxandy-Lace on deviantart
story by save seedcakes

[✏] Cleo huffed lightly as she steered the Magnum Opus into the busy spaceport, squinting in an attempt to improve the faint blurriness in the distance. The ship came to a squealing halt, and Cleo felt her heart freeze up at the thought of what may have fallen in the rough docking attempt. She was adept at steering when needed, but today was Nic's turn to drive, so she hadn't prepped her hoard for movement protection. She and Nicodemus had switched positions so he could take a well-deserved nap about halfway through the trip. Add that her brother was shuffling around in her pile of precious stuff looking for a washrag, and it would be understandable as to why the pink female was so tense. No one touched her stuff and got away with it. If even a single item was misplaced...

"Are you paying attention? You almost sideswiped that merchant ship," Nicodemus was suddenly at Cleo's side, grabbing the wheel and attempting to push his sister away from the steering gear.

Cleo fluffed out her neck fur indignantly, a scowl on her face. "I know what I'm doing!" She shoved Nicodemus away, regaining her reign over the controls. "You reek worse than a half-dead digomarmus in the wastes of Ilto. I can barely think with you standing so close," Cleo complained. She didn't dare take a paw off the wheel, in case Nicodemus tried to wrestle it away a second time. "I hope you don't scare the customers away."

"I'm sorry I didn't have time to please her majesty's nostrils," Nicodemus retorted, but he knew full well what Cleo meant. Guano was notoriously difficult to get out of fur if it was left to set, but he hadn't had time earlier to wash it out. "Since you're so worried about me making the money run, I'll go try and salvage whatever you did to Maggie."

"What I did to Maggie? If I remember correctly, you're the one who almost smashed her into the canyon during takeoff!" The pink female stuck her tongue out at her brother once he left, which made her feel a bit better. Focusing her attention back towards the task at paw, Cleo managed to finish docking the Magnum Opus without further incident. Wiping off her paws on the washrag (which, to her annoyance, had never been in her junk pile in the first place), Cleo glanced around. Her stuff wasn't that badly damaged; a few spare parts had fallen, and there was a chip in one of the mangled glass 'sculptures,' but she would hopefully be able to remold it after a talk with her brother about treatment of her items.

Cleo pulled the lever that dropped down the sign signalling that the shop was open, then busied herself with putting her stuff back into the messy pile that it normally rested in. She began to hum an obnoxious tune that was sure to get stuck in Nicodemus' head as soon as he heard the first few notes, but her song was cut off by a ring of the bells that hung from the shop door. A customer already? That was fast. The pink female dashed over to the counter, sliding into her swiveling stool that sat behind the cash register. "Hey there, traveler! What can we interest you in? We've got maps, traveling gear, rations, pipes, lanterns... almost anything you can imagine is in our stocks. So how can I help ya?"

The traveler in question, a tall, thin panopano female with silvery-blue skin, glanced around the shop. "Jus' browsin'" she muttered gruffly, the accent that was shared by almost all of her species infecting each syllable. She curled her large, finned tail over her back, careful not to hit anything and break it. Panopano were notorious for mistakenly turning carefully built masterpieces into bumbling messes, so Cleo was always a bit apprehensive when one entered the shop. "Name's Brielle, by th' way. Ya'll sell stories?" The female, Brielle, nodded her whale-like head towards the sign posted on the wall.

Cleo grinned, "Yes, we sure do. Stories from our adventures, mostly, but also ones we hear during our travels." The last part had a wink thrown in. The stories that she and her brother 'heard' were usually little more than embellished rumors and gossip that they picked up from other adventurers, and there was no telling how true they actually were. "What kind of story are ya looking ta hear?"

The panopano female thought for a moment. "Ah've always enjoyed folk tales. Ain't seen kalons around much here--ya'll got any o' those?"

A smirk spread across Cleo's muzzle. "I've got a pretty good legend, actually. It's about a kalon named Damarkus, who was born wi-"

"Oh, Ah've heard tha' one before."

Cleo blinked. Obviously, if she had heard the epic of Damarkus already, this panopano got around more than the pink kalon had assumed. She thought a moment, then cleared her throat. "Nobadikin?"

"Ah morkam story?" Brielle raised a bushy eyebrow, but Cleo could tell that she got the panopano's attention.

"It may be a morkam story, but trust me, you'll like it..."


-


Nobadikin took a deep breath as he stared at the closed eye of the humongous panipana that lay before him. It was so still that it seemed dead. He knew better. Solar hibernation: he had heard of it, but never seen it before. Panipana couldn't gather enough food to maintain enough energy to survive due to their size, and they developed a way to harness solar energy for their own use. However, the method was tiring, and while they took in the nutrients, the panipana fell into a deep, motionless slumber.

The morkam stared at the mass of flesh as he edged past it, his heart hammering in his chest. The panipana had already killed the rest of the crew on the first ship. Nobadikin briefly regretted agreeing to this voyage. He missed home. He missed his mate. He missed his daughter, who he still hadn't met, but he knew that by this point, he had lost all of the treasure they had found to the sea. The second ship was circling in orbit, but to get there he would have to escape the panipana's cavern. Its massive body took up most of the exit, but he could see the stars twinkling in the distance. Those stars were a spark of hope. He just had to make it to the stars.

He ran towards the exit, his thick, scaly tail dragging along the ground behind him and leaving a furrow in the dust. Something felt off--Nobadikin froze. A tremor in the ground...? Suddenly, a huge booming voice echoed around the male. "Who 'as entered m' cave?"

The panipana was awake. The solar hibernation had completed. It was fully energized--fear caused Nobadikin's knees to clack together. Thankfully, the leviathan was facing the wrong way. He slid two throwing knives into his paws, his breath coming in soft gasps. The panipana swung its head around, searching for the petty mortal that had disturbed its humble home. A glint of blazing orange, and the knives left Nobadikin's paws. A screaming bellow told that he had hit his mark. "M' eyes! Ah can't...Ah can't see! Wha' 'ave ya done?! Speak, trespasser! Who are ya?"

Nobadikin gulped. An idea struck him--it was pretty stupid, yes, but it could work. He tried to ease the roughness out of his voice, molding it to represent a lighter toned mammal. "You can tell the others that it was Odysseus that has blinded you!"

The panipana shuffled forwards, a low rumble emanating from its throat. Nobadikin took aim once again, throwing a sharp stone into the softer skin above the creature's mouth. It gaped its mouth in a roar of pain as the stone made contact, shaking its head furiously. "Troops, 'elp me! We're under attack!"

Nobadikin's chest froze cold. Of course they weren't alone. Panipana always traveled with hoards of panopano, which rode the larger creatures as if they were battleships throughout space. Both species were closely related, and shared the ability to survive in areas of no air for extended periods of time. Where there was a panipana, there were usually at least twenty panopano nearby.

A chorus of deep voices churned out of one of the tunnels, one louder than the rest. "Who? Is it those blasted Morkam again, Eulthin?"

The now-blind panopano, who Nobadikin assumed was Eulthin, shifted his head to face the side tunnel where his troops were. "He says his name is Odysseus!"

"Odysseus, eh? That's ah kalon, right then, Eulthin? Kalons 're weak lil' drakules. What'ddya say guys? We 'elp him?" A score of laughs echoed from the tunnel, along with shouts of "Smash 'im, Eulthie!" and "Our big boy isn't weak enough to feel threatened by a kalon, is he?"

A sly smirk spread over Nobadikin's snout. Everyone knew that kalons weren't very powerful compared to the other species inhabiting the nebula. Eulthin growled. His troops were supposed to help him, not stand back and let a lowly kalon of all beasts have his way. The male panipana began to wiggle his body, shaking the ground as he trashed against the cavern walls in an attempt to squash Nobadikin. Nobadikin stepped back, throwing out his scaly arms to keep his balance through the tremors.

Starlight peeked through from behind the wall of flesh; this was his chance. Darting towards the small shining points, he slid between the wall and Eulthin's large body. Stalactites began to rain from the ceiling, battering Eulthin's body. The asteroid was simply not stable enough to handle the whale-like creature's barrage. Eulthin began to shuffle out of the cavern, wholly prepared to leave his crew behind before his death came from above. The morka male was almost free, almost--Eulthin's flipper slammed into him, pressing him against the wall he had been using as a guide in the dark cave. Nobadikin couldn't breathe.

And then the pressure was gone. Eulthin hadn't noticed the reptile that he had almost killed in his panic to escape the crumbling cave. Nobadikin ran, no longer bothering to hide his heavy breathing. Freedom! His second crew's ship was anchored ahead, Hanullkin waving for him to hurry. Leaping aboard the ship, Nobadikin snatched the flaming explosion machine and aim it towards the asteroid, pumping it with fire and destruction. The asteroid began to fall apart, but he continued his attack. A score of allies arrived and also aimed their weapons toward the asteroid. The amount of explosions was too awesome for the universe to sustain, and a black hole began to appear, sucking everything ins-


-


"'old on, this doesn't make sense." Brielle lifted a small forearm to pause Cleo's story politely. "That isn't how black holes are made. And where did the allies come from?"

"Hey, who's story is this? Yours or mine?!" The pink female growled, her ears flattening.

Brielle shrugged. "If it was mine, Ah would 'ave explained how all that stuff was happening. But please, continue."

"Nope. We don't finish stories for ungrateful customers. Now pay up. Seventeen government notes." Cleo folded her arms, a sour look on her face. If there was one thing the kalon hated besides people touching her hoard, it was people doubting her truthfulness (although she often gave reason for them to).

Brielle's round eyes widened. "Seventeen? Why, ah don't think ah've got seve- Oh, hello Farei!"

A muscular brown okironel with ornate blue and orange feathers ducked his head into the shop, his expression distasteful until he saw the panopano female. "Aye, Brebre! What's taking ya so long? We have to catch the next ship to Wazillia, or we'll miss Rabshuun's T'zalcan ceremony." Cleo eyed the male warily. He looked remarkably similar to an underground fighter she had once seen (but definitely did not bet on! She definitely did not make 50 notes that day and then spent it on a pair of new spelunking boots, no sir), and she was not eager to find out if he actually was that same fighter.

"Ah'm just purchasing a story from this nice," something glinted in Brielle's eyes on that word, "kalon here. We were just finishing up, weren't we?" She tilted her head, smiling sweetly.

"Y-yes...In fact, out of the goodness of my heart, the story's free." Cleo grinned sheepishly as the okironel placed his paw on Brielle's shoulder.

A smile parted the okironel's rat-like face. "Aw, how sweet. It warms my heart to see that kalons like you are still around. Now, I'm sorry, we have to go." He took Brielle by the hand, and the two turned to walk out of the shop. Cleo allowed herself to exhale in relief; she hadn't realized she had been holding her breath. Fighting with a customer would not have been a new occurrence for the pink female.

Of course her brother chose that moment to dash in from the other room, making a beeline for the stairs leading towards their dorms. A terrible stench trailed behind him.

The okironel's ears lifted as the scent drifted past him. "...what's that smell?"

Brielle's thick eyebrows bushed together, confused recognition painting her face a strange expression. "Isn't that stuff like, super valuable or something?" She murmured under her breath to the okironel. Cleo's acute hearing picked up the sentence that was meant for Brielle's companion's ears only, and she immediately looked to her brother, a mischievous smile cracking her muzzle. Nicodemus had heard it too. The government note symbols lighting up the two sibling's expressions could have made a rich man feel sick. And thus, the pair decided on their next destination. If that guano was worth anything, they had to go back and get more.

[Tommyttr]

The 𐌀dventures of Ɲic and Ƈleo

Minisode one: "One Kalon's Trash Is an Okironel's Treasure"

Chapter three: Going Out With a Bang


art by I.C.
story by Tommyttr

[✏] The delving duo slumped in their respective store stools, laughing. They'd just gotten some hundred jars of some of the most valued fertilizer in the nebula, and it was going to make them stupid rich.

Soon, they were fantasizing what they might do with the money. Cleo could buy all the best map making equipment, and even better, get all the junk she could ever ask for, and a mansion the size of a city to hold it all. Nicodemus could get the finest ship in the nebula, fresh from kalon shipyards, made of the sturdiest wood from Jalkora's moons, the smoothest solar sails straight from panopano seamsters, and hire a crew of the finest and greatest the nebula had to offer. But most importantly, Nicodemus could buy his freedom. No more running, he could actually fit into society, find a nice female, and live out his days as a frontiersman, beyond the nebula in his magnificent vessel.

They sighed in unison, being rich was going to be great. The two shared a stare, their dreams didn't have each other in it, and the sibling bond between them was more notorious than themselves.

Nicodemus went back to the upper deck, manning the helm as usual.

"Hey fuzzbrain," he chirped through the speaking tube, "why don't you make yourself useful and put those jars in a safe place."

"I told you they'd save our hides one day!" Cleo shot back as she strapped random cushions to clusters of jars and discarding them to the floor.

Nicodemus sighed, sliding his paws down the wheel, riches separating him from his sister had him thinking. Maybe money wasn't the way to find a sweetheart, maybe there was a nice kalon out there who wanted to meet a rebel just like him. A rebel with many an epic story to tell, and one who could sweep her off her feet and take her on all sorts of wonderful adventures.

Cleo slumped in her store stool thinking similar thoughts. What was the use of having a giant junk pile without a brother to lecture her on cleaning up every now and then, a brother to taunt, tease, play with. There really wasn't any way to replace Nicodemus, someone who wasn't exactly the best beast in the nebula, but just the sheer amount of experiences they've had together, the ups and downs they've had, the history behind them and the future ahead. Or, at least if there is, nothing that wouldn't come within the next many years: and by then, Cleo might as well be lying down in bed dying.

The Magnum Opus kept a steady course, solar sails furling and wood creaking periodically. But something approached that made her turn tail in less time than it took for Cleo to eat a rat. Up ahead was a morkam trireme, its battle colors raised and coming at them fast. The war horn sounded, drummers keeping the oarsmen in sync. The oars whooshed as they pumped air into the space behind them, propelling the warship forward.

"You have something I want!" yelled a familiar voice from a speaking horn, "Surrender now and you will not be harmed,"
Nicodemus considered his options, Maggie was fast over the long run, but nothing could outpace a morkam trireme with a crew that meant business. They'd have to fight.

"Cleo, show ‘em our colors," The yellow kalon ordered through the speaking tube, even though his sister didn't need orders. Cleo popped her head out of the shop's front door, flailing her arms about. After a few seconds and some attention caught, the pink kalon protruded her tongue in a rather rude fashion to their pursuers.

Nicodemus locked the wheel in place and ran to the back deck. He struck a match, setting alight a small furnace, feeding the flame air via a compressor. Running back to the magazine, he came back out rolling three small eight pounders and a keg of gunpowder. Meanwhile, Cleo was down in the shop. She grabbed a grappling iron, a harness, a torch, and her trusty arm blades, Binky and Ripper, and waited. They both knew that the trireme was well out of range of firearms or for a boarding party, but that would change soon. Morkam ships almost never carry long range cannons, and better specialize in boarding than open space combat. An eight pounder sizzled in the furnace, reaching the perfect temperature. Nicodemus loaded the firepot cannon and aimed it not for the trireme’s hull, but for its sails. A great thunder broke the silence and the battle had begun. The red hot cannonball flew whizzed in open space and straight through two of the trireme’s sails, setting them alight. Fire teams were already responding to the situation, and three musketeers manned the bow’s firing deck.

“Fire!”

Nicodemus dived to cover behind the cannon. Two shots missed his tail by only a few inches, he wasn’t sure where the other had landed.

Although the trireme’s sails were now burning, that didn’t mean that it was considerably slower. The drummers pounded slightly faster, the oarsmen paddling to the beat. She was still closing on the Magnum Opus, but Nicodemus had bought them a few seconds of time. As more musketeers readied themselves on the firing deck, Nicodemus retreated back inside the Magnum Opus. At this point, all the two could do was wait. The morkam closed the distance fast, even though there wasn’t much left, and now was Cleo’s time to shine.

Cleo bust open the shop door and threw her grappling iron across open space, landing firmly on the trireme’s midsection. The pink streak swung through open space, whooping and wailing all the while. Inertia carried her slightly above the poop deck, morkam swordsmen at the ready. Cleo made no hesitation, letting go of the rope, and immediately parrying an oncoming swing.
“Tsk tsk tsk,” Cleo chirped playfully, “don’t you know it’s rude to hit a lady?” And she jabbed her elbow into the morkam’s snout, knocking him to the floor. The other morkam looked blankly at the pink kalon.

After the pause, a brave morka rallied the others, “C’mon men, no one lives forever, charrrrge!”

Cleo deftly dodged the first wave of attackers, and pounced on the second. “Phew! When did you lot last shower?” Cleo exclaimed in disgust. The morka were now even angrier, and that’s exactly what the she wanted.

While the crew was distracted with a rampant ball of pink fur running around, Nicodemus went back to the firepot cannon, setting the drummer’s deck ablaze with another shot. However, the morkam were already throwing grappling lines onto the back deck, pulling the Magnum Opus towards the trireme. Soon a platoon of morkam were boarding the little ship, ransacking the shop for their prize. One of them decided to go for Nicodemus himself, yelling intangible gibberish and coming fast. The morka was now in Nicodemus’ face, still on the rope and ready to run him through. Nicodemus, however, had other plans, and simply kicked the morka hard in the stomach, sending the warrior flying backwards to his own ship. But while Nicodemus was distracted, a jar flew across the open space from the Magnum Opus to the trireme.

The delving duo were about to be very poor again unless one of them did something.

Cleo was busy beating the living daylights out of the morkam crew, when a familiar voice ringed her ears, “If you want to see your riches ever again, I’d propose dropping your weapons,” The voice threatened. Cleo spun around and saw the okironel prospector from Kilikatum, the one who’d leaked that the guano was of great value, and now holding a jar in his hands. The pink kalon made her decision quickly, pouncing the okironel, pinning his shirt to the deck with Ripper and holding Binky up to his neck.

“Wrong…move,” said the prospector, struggling to get the words out of his mouth. He let go of the jar, hoping one of his mercenaries would pick it up, but it rolled down, down, down into the drummer’s deck, which was on fire.

No one exactly knows what happened next, but there was a great flash of light, followed by a thunder that sounded as loud as an angry panipana. Blue flames flew everywhere as the explosion tore the back of the trireme apart.

Everyone’s eyes widened.

Morkam fire teams were already responding to the blaze. Cleo took Ripper out of the floorboards and swung back to the Magnum Opus via one of the morkam’s lines. Nicodemus was cutting all the grappling lines with his trusty stiletto dagger, Cleo slicing one or two on her way back. As soon as the ship was free, she went full sail ahead: somewhere, anywhere away from Poliharpsi.

[Tommyttr]

The 𐌀dventures of Ɲic and Ƈleo

Minisode two: "Comet At You"


art by save seedcakes
story by Tommyttr

[✏] The Magnum Opus had never been so messy, even Cleo thought so, and that was saying something depicting she didn't know the definition of "organized". Washcloth after washcloth was thrown aside as Nicodemus and Cleo tried in vain to clean the ship yet again. Nicodemus wasn't the best tinkerer, and making makeshift chemical burners wasn't working out too well, usually ending in the guano exploding or splattering all over the walls.

That is, if it really was guano.

After their previous encounter with the okironel prospector, the delving duo decided not to dock at the nearest port and sell the whole lot and get filthy rich, but instead find its true identity. No one has ever come back from the Black Caves of Poliharpsi, and this guano may be why. But a proper scientist was needed to find out the guano's true nature.

"Gotta hand it to ya, Nic, you sure know how to make a bigger mess than me," Cleo chirped, her hands on her hips,
Nicodemus slammed his paws onto his desk, taking a quick breath before speaking, "Very funny, and I suppose you know how to do...whatever it is we're trying to do?"

"Nope. C'mon Nic, this is lunacy, let's just dock at..." Cleo thought for a moment, calculating exactly which port was closest to their position, "Holmank, and just sell this stuff and get rich!"

"No," Her brother replied, "Cleo, this isn't just your everyday fertilizer...fertilizer doesn't make huge blue explosions when set on fire."

The pink kalon threw her hands into the air, "Well, you're on your own, I'm going to be charting."

As it'd been two weeks since she'd updated it, Cleo got out her biggest map, the map of the whole known nebula, and began calculating where everything was. These planets were now in this position, this anomaly was about here, and this comet field would be there. Cleo had an idea,

"Why don't we try...?" Cleo hollered from her room, knowing full well that her brother wouldn't like her plan.

"No..." Nicodemus responded instantly, knowing what his sister was about to propose.

"Nic, if anybeast, she'd know."

The yellow kalon pondered awhile, then sighed, "Okay, but I'd stash your stuff...depicting what happened last time."

"What?” Cleo pretended to not hear that last statement but "okay", “I'm sorry, brother, but I didn't quite catch that, could you speak up?"

Nicodemus rolled his eyes, "Never mind, where's the field right now?"

"By the time we get there, it'll be about 5000 miles off Mon'Mar'Na, and it’ll be slung around the moon, so it’ll be in the area for a few days,"

"Really? Or is that your fashion sense talking?" Nicodemus heckled, manning the helm.

Cleo scoffed to herself, how dare he question her charting skills? "Well if you want to wait a few days it'll be over…” Cleo calculated the comet field’s velocity, cosmic disturbances, and gravimetric interferences that randomly placed it over a quaint little system, “Molpri..."

Nicodemus’ fur stood on end at the utterance of that name. No, he’d never go back to Molpri, never, "Allllright, pack your bags ladies and gentlemen we're heading to Mon'Mar'Na!"

-

Sweat poured down the steering wheel of the Magnum Opus. It'd now been three days since they had set a course for Mon'Mar'Na, and Nicodemus was preparing for the worst. The Cabo comet field moved at least ten times faster than the Magnum Opus, and it was already a pretty fast ship to begin with. This meant that they couldn't approach the comet field; the field had to approach them. They often didn't try something this crazy, but anything is better than Nicodemus trying out his home experiments and just getting the ship blown up. They wanted a professional, this is how they get to one.

"Hold on to your fur!" Yelled Nicodemus as the front of the field came into view. Cleo had stored all her important maps into their respective containers sprawled around her room, and was now in the shop making sure her junk didn't get "disorganized". The first comet whizzed by, not five feet off the starboard bow, the second came right at them. Nicodemus spun the helm to port, tilting the aileron sails; the great comet slammed against the side of the Magnum Opus' hull, white ice staining the ship's wonderful shade of wood brown. Clanking and the random shattering came from below, Cleo grumbling to herself. Two more comets flew by without incident, one of them the size of the largest panipana. Nicodemus dodged one of the smaller comets, followed by a large one. Nicodemus' eyes widened, behind the large comet was an ice screen, an almost unavoidable wall of ice particles, and it was coming at them fast. Suddenly, everything was white.

They couldn't see a thing.

"BRACE YOURSELF," Nicodemus yelled at the top of his lungs, for what may be his final words. There was an eerie silence, interrupted by a crash, smash!

-

Cleo groaned lightly, bringing herself to her feet. Cleo struck a match and lit her lantern , remembering where they were kept in case of emergency. Random junk was everywhere, shattered glass strewn over the floor. The pink kalon winced, her eyes widening at the gash in her arm. It wasn't serious, but she was bleeding more than an everyday paper cut. Clutching the wound tightly, Cleo went upstairs to check on her brother. A pink ball of fur poked out of the stairwell, lantern in hand. The ground shone with reflections from the pieces of glass that covered the upper front deck. Cleo ran back downstairs, grabbed the shop broom, and quickly began clearing a path to her brother. The ship stood still, only the sound of glass jingling across the floor breaking the serene silence. When enough glass was cleared, Cleo rushed to her brother. She began to tear up; Nicodemus' dashing yellow coat was stained with blood.

Was she too late?

Cleo trudged up through the upper deck, Nicodemus slung over her shoulder, the glass crunching beneath each footfall, tearing at the kalon's boots. As she approached the back deck, Cleo began to see the icy prison that held them. The comet must have been larger than a small moon; thankfully they had landed in the right place. Cleo vaulted over the back deck railing in silence, sliding down the Magnum Opus' sleek, wooden hull, trailing blood behind them. They hit the ground harder than desired, Cleo collapsing and her brother flopping onto the floor a few inches ahead. The pink kalon got back up to her feet and immediately went back into the ruined ship via the shop doors. She grabbed the first aid kit to treat Nicodemus' wounds, and Ripper just in case she needed to amputate, although she hoped she wouldn’t have to. Cleo rushed back outside, vision beginning to blur, head feeling dizzy, but she kept going.

She had to.

When Cleo had gotten back, Nicodemus was gone, and in his place a morka donning a tuxedo and arms around his back. Cleo drew Ripper, prepared to fight,

"Where...is...my brother?!" She interrogated, panting and stumbling to get the words out of her mouth. The morka didn't answer.

"Where is he?" Cleo shouted angrily. The response came in a great thundering from all around. It was sporadic, light, almost like laughing.

"Nicodemus is fine, Cleoptkis," Chuckled a loud voice.

Cleo's look hardened, she certainly didn't find her brother dying funny. The laughing stopped; a large orange eye came into view, gazing down upon the pink kalon.

Barbie.

"Ignatius, show our guest to the garden," the voice ordered, "You'll find your brother there."

The morka bowed and raised his arm, motioning Cleo to follow him. She kept a hard stare on Barbie. There wasn’t a morka butler last time they’d met. Ignatius led Cleo through the maze of ice, pointing at the ground now and then to warn her of slippery spots. He wasn’t like other morka Cleo had met: silent, straight postured, and with oddly colored scales. Morka usually came in green, red, orange, and sometimes grey, but Ignatius was a patchwork black and white.

It didn’t take long to reach the garden, and Ignatius, being the gentleman he is, showed Cleo in. Entire plots and fields were sprawled across the dirt floor. But Cleo only cared about her brother at this point, and rushed to the lump of yellow-red fur that lay on a table. She immediately checked to see if he was breathing. A “bump bump” came from Nicodemus’ heart, every breath like a sigh, he was alive. He was already bandaged up well, a hot compress against his head, and a clamp to stop the bleeding in his legs. Although she knew she might hurt him, Cleo rested her head on Nicodemus’ chest. She was just glad that he was alive.

Cleo gazed at the garden around them, and to Cleo’s surprise, there were crops growing in the poorly lit, cold, nutrient lacking comet.

“One of my greatest achievements…self-sustaining plant life,” Barbie boomed proudly. Cleo, who thought Barbie was back at the crash site, stood up startled and confused that she knew the kalon’s position, “How did you…?”

“A lot has changed since last we met, Cleoptkis, this comet isn’t just my home anymore…it’s a part of me.”

Cleo felt a sting of anger, “I told you not to call me that,” she growled passive aggressively.

“Oh! Forgive me, Cleo.”

The pink kalon went right back to business, “Is Nic going to be okay?”

“Nicodemus will recover in due time…although none of his injuries were serious, he will be forced to use a walking stick for the next week,” Barbie explained, mixing a long sigh into her prose, “I haven’t gotten all the glass out, so I must ask you to leave Ignatius to mend him.”

Cleo gave Ignatius a hard stare, not trusting him one bit. The morka just stood there, unfazed, his eyes looking out into space. With a sigh, Cleo left the garden, back to the crash site. They were in this accursed comet for a reason, best to make their sacrifice worthwhile.

“You mean to tell me,” Barbie gave the jar of guano a long gaze, “that only a liter jar of this can cause an explosion bigger than anything made by beast?”

Cleo scratched her head, “I wasn’t there myself, but Nic has spent the last week trying to find out exactly what it is, and Maggie hasn’t taken it very well,”

“You need proper equipment to break down a compound like this without causing a reaction,” Barbie scoffed, “Ignatius!”

The panipana’s yell shook the comet, and as if by magic, the morka butler appeared just behind Cleo’s left shoulder. Cleo jumped into combat position, ready to beat the living daylights out of him.

“Bring this compound to my laboratory, prepare the burners and my entire inventory of reactive chemicals,” Barbie ordered.

Ignatius held out his hands, silently requesting the jar be put in his hands. The pink female grumbled, but submitted the jar of guano.

“You’ll have to excuse Iggy,” Barbie apologized, “He’s a mute you know, but as loyal as the best of manservants, and is quick to the call. I’ve only had him for a year and he’s helped me so much. Now that I’m almost quite literally half comet, I need someone to be my hands.”

“Oh noooooooo,” Cleo grumbled to herself, “chessboard scales doesn’t make my fur stand on end at alllll, no need to worry about me.”

Cleo followed Ignatius down to the laboratory; she at least wanted to know what all the trouble was for. The lab was directly next to one of Barbie’s arm flippers, now part of the icy home that was the comet, and below her other eye. Cabinets upon cabinets of everything in the Valpires Nebula lined the walls: microscopic specimens, beakers of various chemicals and compounds, and chunks of dirt and dust from every planet, moon, and from every kind of asteroid and comet field. Many different creatures from almost every planet imaginable were frozen into the wall for safe keeping.

The pink kalon followed Ignatius in wonder of all these strange things that surrounded her. And she thought Nicodemus was weird.

“Ignatius, set the burner to 300 degrees kelvin, slowly increase temperature until you hit 500 degrees.”

The morkam took a sample of the guano and placed it in a beaker, setting it above what looked like a weird stovetop. Ignatius turned a dial slowly, being sure that there was no chemical reaction. The temperature gauge dial crept towards 373, stopping there.

“Hmmm, it doesn’t react like regular excrete,” Barbie pondered, “Ignatius, bring a piece under the microscope.”

The butler took the jar and moved it upstairs to where the microscope was housed, close to Barbie’s eye. Pouring the guano onto a petri dish, Ignatius slid the dish under the microscope. Barbie examined it for a while, ordering Ignatius to change the magnification and positioning every now and then. Then a familiar thundering sounded, Barbie was obviously amused of something.

“Well there’s your problem!” the panipana chuckled, “this compound isn’t even organic.”

Cleo was baffled, “so it isn’t guano?” She asked.

“Oh no my dear,” Barbie explained, “this isn’t guano, by the looks of things, this compound was designed to be a kind of explosive, more potent than any gunpowder or even its tenfold more powerful cousin gun cock. According to known science, this kind of substance should not exist. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to keep a sample of your stock to conduct further experiments,”
“Go ahead, the less of that stuff is around me, the better,” A chill ran down Cleo’s spine, even being near the explosion on the morkam trireme was enough experience with the guano, or whatever it is, for a lifetime.

-

Cleo stayed with Barbie for a couple of days, repairing the Magnum Opus, finding out more about the guano and all the other experiments she had going on. Ignatius wasn’t too much of a problem, and eventually Cleo forgot he was even there. Nicodemus regained consciousness within a day, but wasn’t allowed to walk until they had to leave, and he would be confined to a walking stick for a week. As the delving duo prepared to depart, Barbie presented them with a gift: the skins off all the creatures she has performed autopsies on in the past year. The two would need it, especially Nicodemus, depicting their garment’s condition after the crash. Nic and Cleo left the comet with slightly heavy hearts, to say goodbye to a friend, and to know that they had something that shouldn’t even exist.

[Tommyttr]

The 𐌀dventures of Ɲic and Ƈleo

Minisode three: "Claudius the Cleaver"

Chapter three: Claudius the Cleaver


art by save seedcakes
story by Tommyttr

[✏] "I'll give you seven, no more."

"Don't play me, I'm selling for eight."

The customer took one more government note from his pocket and slid it across the counter; the merchant putting on a friendly, yet fake, grin as he reached for the note. Suddenly, the door to the merchant's guild burst open, every customer, merchant, and creature stopped in their tracks. He was here. His bone laced boots clapped with every step, his buttons and loosely sheathed scimitar clanking as he swayed his strut left to right.

"Who is...?" Asked a curious customer, the shopkeeper hushing him instantly, but it was too late; the customer was already staring down a pair of steely eyes. Those eyes gave an inquisitive look.

"Hush yourself, the man has a right to know," The customer was shaking in fear for his life, "You new 'round here? Never heard of Claudius the Cleaver?" The customer responded with a whimper. "Well!" exclaimed Claudius with a friendly look in his eyes, "now you know."

The head merchant called from behind her counter, "What're you doing here, Claudius? You know you're not welcome here."

The kalon pulled a bag from his pocket, slamming it onto the head merchant's counter.

"How much for a spot on the next caravan to Molpri?" he asked.

The head merchant's eyes widened, "You, go to Molpri? I'd hook you up with a caravan for free just to see you behind bars. What's the occasion?"

"Got a special cargo," responded Claudius, motioning his head to the bag he dragged along the floor, "don't want to take any chances."

"And who's to say I'll help you?"

"Well I'm offering good money for it, aren't I? I can even pay in government notes if ye want."

"Keep it, you probably swindled it anyway. The next caravan leaves tomorrow. Talk to a morka by the name of Fringekin for more details, you’ll find him at docking platform C6. It has a two frigate escort so don't think of attempting anything stupid." The head merchant kept a hard stare on Claudius, trying to show she wouldn't give in.

Claudius smiled briefly, turned around, and walked out of the guild house, garb jingling and jangling, bag dragged across the floor as he pulled the door shut.

-

"What on...? Where...? How...?" asked the seamstress, showing her confusion by lifting her spectacles up and down.

"I bounced him on one of Gopralm's moons. He was a tough one, and a hard one to find. Apparently they only come out when the moon is behind the planet, which only comes every few months. So, what can you make of it?"

"Well, it's not much to work with, most of it is too hard to make into any usable material...I can give you 150 square inches, I keep the rest."

"Hmmm...I've always wanted a tanktop, when can I expect it?"

"With material this tough? It’s nearing closing hours but I’ll have it done by tonight. Also, it’s Paterttaum tomorrow, so it’ll be in the dropbox."

Cleo thanked Nol'Draden and left her shop, stepping out into the smell of smelt metal, roasted meat, and hot brick and cloth. Mon'Mar'Na, a minor state moon of the morkam, and one of Cleo's favorite destinations, was filled with the hub bub of customers, merchants, and their wares alike. There was always something to do on Mon'Mar'Na: watch the daily jousting tournaments.

Interspecies cook-offs, or gamble playing with one of the many cards players to name a few. Morkam love nothing more than some good, friendly competition, and they aren't afraid to show it. Although Cleo was only here to see Nol’Draden, she wished she could stay around. Anything is better than a hot, working kalon in a bad mood, especially Nicodemus. He and his date met up yesterday, and things didn’t exactly go as planned.

-

“Just so you know, he snores: like, really loud. Sounds like a freaking meteor shower hitting the walls every night. I suggest you get out while you still can,” Cleo commented, Nicodemus’ date giving her an odd look.

“Cleo…” Nicodemus grumbled passive aggressively, clutching his fists and gritting his teeth.

“It’s true!” Cleo retorted, jumping into her pile of junk that is her side of the Magnum Opus.

Nicodemus smiled worriedly, “excuse me for a moment…” turning to confront his sister in her junk pile.

Cleo popped back out of the mess, anticipating what Nicodemus was doing, wielding her trusty arm blades, Binky and Ripper, “You have been warned!” she said hauntingly, slipping out a porthole whilst pointing Binky at Nicodemus.

Nicodemus, sweating, turned back to his date, “so, when can I see you again?” He asked, his date running away in fear.

-

The veil of night had come when Cleo returned to the Magnum Opus. She noticed that the sign was pulled up; guess the shop’s closed for the day. The front door was left ajar, and creaked as Cleo crept in.

“Nic,” Cleo hollered, “If this is another joke, you’re going to find more than a few rats under your pillow!” But her call was met with an eerie silence. Something wasn’t right, Nicodemus has had some serious depression cycles, but none this bad. Cleo slinked up the stairs, still cautious if this was another one of Nicodemus’ tricks. The pink kalon made it to the upper deck without a sound, from her or anyone else. Picking up Binky, Cleo tried to pick the lock to Nicodemus’ room, but it flung open, already unlocked.

“Get out!” boomed a voice, Cleo jumped and fumbled into combat position; whatever was there was going to get it.

“You’ve already done enough damage…” Nicodemus had his face in his pillow, random assortments of water canteen sprawled all over his room. Cleo would’ve been proud of her brother, if he wasn’t an outright pitiful sight to behold.

“You…?” began Cleo.

Nicodemus flipped upright in his bed, “No! Just get out; please…I need to recollect myself.”

The pink streak hurried out of the room, closing the door behind her. Obviously that last one meant more to him than she thought. But Cleo knew he’d get over it eventually, she wasn’t his type anyway: at least in Cleo’s opinion.

The next day, Nicodemus slept in, so Cleo had to prepare breakfast. By the time the shop had opened for the day, Nicodemus was awake, barely. Business went as usual, some bolts sold here, a story told there, and of course, a few rumors heard. Nicodemus leaned on the counter, still depressed, and Cleo wanted to make it up for him.

“Oh come now brother, I was doing you a favor.”

“Maybe in your twisted sense of reality,” Replied Nicodemus monotonously, “why don’t you go clean out the pots or something, I’ll man the shop.”

Cleaning was always the last thing on Cleo’s mind, right behind caring if her mounds of junk weigh the ship down. She leaned backwards on the counter, thinking, how could she get out of cleaning the ship? Her ears flicked up, nothing made Nicodemus happier than having a grand adventure. But they were docking at Mon’Mar’Na at least until Nol’Draden was done with Cleo’s tank top. Although there was plenty to do on the moon state, Nicodemus had done most of it in their previous visits. They needed a new adventure. Then, it hit her.

“I wonder if that Okironel was speaking the truth…” Cleo asked herself passively.

Nicodemus, interested, turned to his sister, “Do you think Claudius the Cleaver is really here?”

“Nah,” replied Cleo sarcastically, trying to draw Nicodemus into her little trap, “can’t have much merit to it, coming from an Okironel.”

“But Cleo, Claudius the Cleaver, one of the most feared bounty hunters ever, aren’t you at least a little curious?”

Her brother had taken the bait, now to follow through, “I’d rather run the shop than go on a wild goose chase,” Cleo said emphatically, “but you can go if you…”

Nicodemus grabbed his backpack and a canteen, and vaulted over the counter hurriedly. He was opening the door when he noticed his sister hadn’t moved an inch. “Well, you coming or what?” He asked, sheathing his dagger.

Cleo shook her head with a smile, grabbed her stuff and met Nicodemus at the door, “Well someone’s got to keep you out of trouble,”

Nicodemus beamed and ran out the door, freed from his mental prison.

-

It was the Morkam holy day of Paterttaum, a day of rest, and the streets of Mon’Mar’Na were deserted, except two kalons strolling around the port. Ship after ship passed by, and Nicodemus was like a cub in a sweets shop. Morkam triremes, gigantic living ships, the panipana, and even some custom okironel vessels like their own Magnum Opus. But none of those quite matched the magnificence of a ship straight from kalon private shipyards. Frigates, schooners, blockade runners, yachts, even the merchant ships were well made. And any respectable kalon bounty hunter like Claudius would only sail the finest in the nebula. But a captain is nothing without his crew, and that generally dictated what an outlaw chose for a ship besides function. Fishing ships, merchant vessels, a few morkam war galleys, nothing quite suitable for the most feared bounty hunters ever. Then she came into view, a splendid craft of medium size, five guns on one side and six on the other, not including any on the poop deck, three masts with their triangular or square sails glistening in the sunlight. Below the bowsprit was her name, “Taurus”. Nicodemus gawked at it for a good two minutes, almost out of respect, before doing anything else.

Cleo scoffed and remarked, “It’s just a beaten up pile of wood.”

“Cleo, this is it! This baby has caught more outlaws than any other ship in history.”

Suddenly there was a great crash, Nicodemus and Cleo fell to the ground unconscious.

“And it’s about to bring in two more…”

-

Nicodemus awoke in dark, faintly lit place, scratching the back of his head.

“What…happened?” he said woozily, feeling the lump on the back of his head. His sister lay not too far from him, still unconscious.

“Cleo? Cleo! Wake up!” He whispered hoarsely, shaking the pink kalon violently. Cleo groaned lightly, she didn’t seem too phased by the whole ordeal; if anything, it was like she was getting up from a bad dream. The wood floor creaked as Cleo got up.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Nicodemus whispered, clasping his fist and paw in determination. Looking around, he saw a door, wide open. Nicodemus and Cleo ran to the door as fast as their legs would let them, Nicodemus still limping from his injuries a week before.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” slinked a voice from the corner, pulling back the cock of a flintlock, “The first kalon who steps through that door gets shot,” a great bang came from the corner, followed by the shattering of glass, “and I don’t miss often.”

The delving duo stopped right in their tracks, not daring to move another muscle. The wood seemed to creak even louder than before, as the figure from the corner walked to the light.

“Claudius the Cleaver,” Nicodemus mouthed when the bounty hunter came full into the light.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Claudius introduced, motioning his hat in greeting.

“Why are we here?” Asked Cleo impatiently, Claudius stiffened his posture. He approached the pink female slowly, letting the clatter of his bone laced boots and the clicking of his buttons and scimitar portray his emotions. Cleo stared down those cold crimson eyes, unmoved, determined to not show any weakness.

“Listen, I could be hunting a hundred different heads down right now but you two happened to pop up on my front porch. And as a reward, you’re getting a first class free trip to a Molprian prison where your kind belongs. Good day!” And with that, the bounty hunter left, slamming the door behind him, the sound of a lock’s plunger sealing the delving duo in. Cleo ran at the door in fury, hitting it hard with her body. She tried again, and again, eventually the prison guard took notice.

“Hey! Keep it down in there!” ordered the guard, kicking the door.

Cleo didn’t like being held against her will; it was too much like being in the cold, damp, sickening mines. She was going to escape, somehow. Nicodemus disliked the situation as much as his sister did, and they almost immediately began devising an escape plan. Ideally, they’d escape during the nightshift for the greatest chance of success, although they had no way of telling the passage of time: except in the guard shifts.

One day passed by, just to get the gist of the round of guards. A kalon took the first watch, a morka took the second, another took the third, and an okironel took the fourth. Okironel, Nicodemus and Cleo knew, were nocturnal, so that was their best bet.

The time had come, the two guards silently passed on their watch, the okironel taking his position a few feet from the door. Nicodemus slipped his prehensile tail through the barred door window, holding a shard of glass Cleo found. The long, yellow tail slinked along the door, trying to feel for the lock. A quiet chink sounded when the glass shard made contact with the metal lock. Nicodemus froze; the okironel still seemed to be unaware. Moving as silently as possible, Nicodemus picked away at the lock. There was another, louder chink, but this time, it wasn’t glass hitting metal.

The glass had broken.

The okironel turned in surprise. Nicodemus slammed the rest of the shard in shock, smashing the mechanism and unlocking the door. Cleo immediately took the door down, pouncing on the guard just as he was about to sound the alarm. Nicodemus tore the ends of his jacket’s sleeves off; he used one to bind the guard’s hands, and one for his mouth. Cleo poked her head out of the corridor onto the poop deck. There wasn’t a soul to be seen. Stealthily, the two slipped around the corner, Nicodemus looking for the helm, Cleo climbing up to the crow’s nest. If they could land the ship, they would be free. Almost like clockwork, another two of Claudius’ goons were down. The delving duo had control of the ship…somewhat. Cleo immediately began calculating their exact position by charting the stars. They were extremely close to the small, uninhabited planet of Yzanzib, just above it, actually. Cleo waved at Nicodemus, motioning to stop the ship and that she was coming down. The Taurus floated over the marsh planet, not a sound to be heard but the pink kalon climbing down a rope ladder. The pink streak dashed discreetly to the helm.

“Nic, there’s a planet just below us!” Cleo whispered, “We just need to grabs some lines and shimmy down,” Her brother beamed at the news and they started down the stairs from the helm to the poop deck.

Only to be met by a line of muskets.

“Don’t neither of youse move!” yelled the okironel guard, now free from his bondages. Cleo didn’t take his advice and pounced right over the line of firearms, sacking all of their wielders, and knocking them down the stairs. A bell sounded from the poop deck,

“All hands on deck!” hollered somebeast from below.

Nicodemus and Cleo didn’t have much time; soon the whole ship would be swarming with beasts. A morka charged Cleo with a cutlass, screaming all the way. The pink kalon grabbed one of the muskets from the fallen sailor and used it as a staff.

“Nic!” Cleo shouted as she parried a swipe, “Get to the gangplank, and hurry!”

Nicodemus rushed down the stairs, wincing in pain on every one. With all his might he trudged on, one disfigured step after another. He was about to get to the gangplank when a crack went off, followed by the sound of moving air. The yellow kalon fell to the ground with a thump, a new kind of pain pulsed through his body. On his tail was a pulley, pinning him to the deck. Popping out of a cabin door was Claudius himself, his flintlock still steaming from a fresh shot.

“Get them,” he ordered coldly, a horde of his goons rushing Cleo and Nicodemus.

Cleo, briefly distracted by the commotion, let her guard down. Her combatant took the opportunity to make a final lunge at her chest. Thinking fast, Cleo dodged and swung the musket’s butt into the morka’s head, knocking him to the ground. She growled in fury, her neck fur standing on end and her tail straight out. She was prepared to fight every last one of them if she needed to, especially Claudius. Her brother knew she couldn’t take on an entire ship’s crew. She might get hurt, recaptured, or killed.

He knew what he had to do.

“Cleo,” Nicodemus winced, struggling to get the words out of his mouth, his vocal chords growling in desperation “RUN!”
The pink kalon’s rage flashed away a moment, her fight-or-flight response reaching a neutral. She’d have better chance of getting her brother out of this mess if she fell back and regrouped. But who knows if she will ever see him again, or if he’ll even survive from all his wounds? She didn’t know, but he’d have the best chance of surviving if Cleo got a chance to plan an attack. The pink streak dashed away from the oncoming horde and vaulted straight off the side of the Taurus, getting one last look at her brother. He wasn’t moving, his tail still crushed by the pulley. She had to do this, for her brother. Cleo’s fur flapped in the rushing wind, falling fast towards Yzanzib’s surface.

Falling…

Falling…

Falling…

[eltonn]

The 𐌀dventures of Ɲic and Ƈleo

Minisode three: "Claudius the Cleaver"

Chapter two: and the worm digs into the brain


art by save seedcakes
story by save seedcakes

[✏] Cleo paused, leaning over and panting heavily. She had been running since she got out. A wave of nausea ran over the female as she realized how cowardly she was being. She just left her brother ALONE in the clutches of the MOST FEAR SPACE PIRATE IN THE NEBULA. What was she thinking?! He was still injured from the visit to Barbie. For all she knew, he could be dead by now. Cleo shook her head, chasing the thoughts of doom away. She didn't want to think of that possibility right now. The three stars on the planet (she assumed it was Yzanzib, judging by the large grasslands and rings of forests) were beginning to set, and her main priority was finding shelter.

"Mmm...well, giant golgarth tend to inhabit the caves on Yzanzib, and...my supplies are next to nothing," the pink female mused aloud to herself. "So that would be a bad idea..." It helped her to calm down. She absentmindedly pulled Binky out from its sheath on her wrist and began to stroke the blade as she planned. "I could climb a tree, but ew, wind. I could build a shelter...which would involve cutting down a tr- OW!" Her finger had run against the sharp end of her bronze hand-scythe one too many times, and a pinprick of blood began to well in the wound. Grumbling to herself, Cleo stuck her finger into her mouth, sucking at it to ease the pain. Thankfully, it wasn't a very bad cut.

When she directed her attention back to scouting out a place to hide out for the night, something was different. The smell of smoke...? There...! A glowing orange light flickered in the distance. It rarely got too cold on Yzanzib, so it just took a bit of problem solving to figure out what species was making camp around them. Panopano never used campfires because they were accustomed to the glow from the eyes of the panipana. Morkam could see just as well during the night as the day, and Okironel used a special blue-green mixure that gave off more heat than the usual orange fires. That left kalons, which was neither a good nor bad thing. They could be peaceful nomads, indifferent travelers, or space pirates, and there was no way Cleo could tell without getting closer. If she remembered correctly, Yzanzib was more of an outcast planet of the outer rim, and didn't have many large communities on it. It was most likely that they were nomads. Cleo hoped that they were nomads--then she would have the promise of at least a place to sleep for the night, if not a warm meal as well. The spelunking rations in her bag weren't exactly flavorful.

Slipping through the trees, Cleo neared the light. Surprisingly, the camp was empty. A pan was tossed next to the fire, some sort of mashed grain spilling out the side. A bucket of water stood nearby, apparently there to put out the fire if needed. The tent was left open, and it was obvious that whoever had been here had left in a hurry. Cleo slowly crept out from her hiding spot in the shadows, Binky and Ripper at the ready in case it was a trap.

Nothing happened after she stepped into the light. No angry nomads appeared, no screaming pirates, no raging monsters. It was just...quiet. Empty. Nothing was here.

Cleo exhaled, kneeling down next to the fire. Maybe she would be able to salvage some of the fallen grain into a meal. Falling into a sense of security, the pink female picked up a small bowl made of tree bark and began to scoop the mash into it. A sudden weight crashed into her shoulder, shoving her over. Cleo fumbled to grab her hand-scythes, but whoever her attacker was was pushing their paws against Cleo's wrists so she couldn't draw the blades. Just as suddenly as the weight had hit her, it disappeared. Cleo rolled into a crouching position, Binky and Ripper held at ready, a small snarl on her face. Whoever thought it would be a good idea to tangle with HER had another thing coming.

A tree branch above Cleo's head shook, laughter echoing from it. "Wow! I totally got you, wasn't that great? What do you think, Karmen? Wasn't I great?" Cleo looked upwards, spotting a small kalon kit perched in the tree. Judging by her size, the kit couldn't have been more than eight cliques* old. Cleo couldn't help but feel sorry for her. At least she isn't trapped in those forsaken mines. The kit interrupted Cleo's thoughts with a louder voice. "Hey, you! Karmen thinks that I did great! But you were the one that I was practicing on, so your opinion matters more. Yeah, of course her opinion matters more, she's the one that I was attacking. You weren't ther- okay, yeah, you were there, but you know what I mean. She knows more than you do!"

What...? Cleo had no idea who this kit was talking to, but it would probably be in her best interest to humor her. That, and the kit actually had done pretty well. "You did great. Wasn't expecting that at all. But, um...how did you know I was here...?"

"Karmen heard you when you were way out there," the kit motioned to the grassland that Cleo had been crossing before spotting the fire. "And he told me that I should hide because you might be a pirate or something dangerous and so I climbed up this big tall tree but whenyouarrivedisawthatyouwerentscaryandidecidedtopracticethethingthatLukashasbeenteachingmeand" the kit paused to take a breath, almost gasping for air. "anditotallyGOTYOU!"

Cleo couldn't help but chuckle at the kit. She certainly was a hyper one. "Yeah, ya did." Now that she had met her 'attacker,' Cleo was becoming more comfortable again. The kit wasn't much of a danger to her, even if she did seem a little insane. The only thing she had to worry about were--

"Natra, who is this?!"

The kit's parents.

A male kalon strode into the clearing, his face obscured by a thick gray cloak, but Cleo could see the symbol of the Habitionists on the necklace around his neck. Habitionists were a group of rogues that dealt in the transportation and the protection of wildlife, generally working alone. They were usually quite peaceful, until you threatened their work. This particular Habitionist didn't look angry at Cleo; in fact, he was more sending accusatory glares towards the kit, whom he called Natra. Natra...? That's strange, that isn't a kalon name...

Natra grinned sheepishly, swinging herself from her perch on the branch to the trunk, and sliding down. As she came closer to the light, Cleo could see that her fur was dark grey and white, with a rainbow of colors cascading down her back. She looked nothing like the pale hooded kalon standing nearby. Natra bounced over to the hooded male on all fours (which wasn't entirely strange--some kalons preferred to walk on four legs, although most chose two). "She's really nice, she has these cool curvy sword things and I got to practice the thing you were teaching me on her and Karmen said--okay, Karmen said that I shouldn't attack random strangers but I think I did pretty good!"

The male's voice was stern. "Karmen is absolutely right. You could have been hurt, or worse. What would you have done if she was hostile?"

"Uhm....ahh....win?" Natra smiled up at the male hopefully.

He shook his head in exasperation, turning towards Cleo with his paws turned upwards in an expression of apology. "I'm sorry about her, she doesn't think before doing things. I'm Lukas, and this, as you've probably figured out, is Natra and Karmen." Natra waved a front paw cheerfully.

Cleo blinked in confusion. And Karmen...? She didn't see anyone else in the area, nor could she hear or smell them, so who could Karmen be? "I'm Cleo, it's nice to meet you." Cleo stood up, irked to see that Lukas was taller than she was. Now that her face was in the light, the scar across her left cheek was illuminated, and glistened pale against her fur. Lukas inhaled softly when he saw it. That was okay. Cleo was used to others reacting strangely to it. Natra was the one who voiced that she and her guardian were both thinking.

"What happened?"

Lukas quickly shushed her through gritted teeth, and Natra sat on her back legs, using her front paws to cover her mouth. Her eyes went eerily unfocused for a moment, then re-centered. "Oh! Was I not supposed to ask that? Karmen says that I'm being rude...But I'm not being rude, I'm just curiou-" A glare from Lukas silenced the kit.

Cleo shook her head. "No, it's okay. It was a long time ago. I was slapped by a guard."

Natra's eyes widened. "You were working in the MINES? Momma and Pappa wanted me to go there, but they wouldn't take me because they don't like Karmen. Was it fun? It sounds really cool!"

Lukas looked uncomfortable, and Cleo had a feeling that she wasn't the only kalon who had bad experiences in those tunnels. "Karmen, I'm sorry to have to ask, but could you please take over for a few minutes so we can have some peace and quiet?"

"Oh, uh! I can be quiet! Look, this is me being quiet!" Natra shifted her discussion topic quite abruptly. "Also Karmen says he doesn't want to yet. He thinks I can be quiet, too."

The hooded male sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine, then could you gather some fruit for dinner? I saw a pinfla bush down near the river."

The rainbow kit leaped up in excitement. "Yeah, I'll find the biggest and juiciest ones EVER!" And with that, Natra ran off, a skip in her step.

Lukas looked apologetically at Cleo. "Again, I'm sorry about her. She can be a bit of a pawful. It looks like she even trashed the camp to try and lure you in." He shook his head, muttering something similar to 'what was she thinking...?'

Cleo chuckled a bit. "Not a problem. She's a cute kid." Cleo may be abrasive at times, but kits were definitely her weakness, especially those as innocent as Natra. "But, ah, who's--?"

Lukas raised a paw to stop her. "I know it's confusing, but questions later." He motioned with his paw, something that Cleo figured meant 'she might be eavesdropping.' Cleo nodded.

--

After Natra had returned with a basketful of pinfla berries, Lukas had prepared it into a fruit dish by mixing it with things he had stored in the tent. Cleo was sure that it tasted delicious, even though she couldn't actually taste it because of her ageusiea, although Cleo told herself that it needed some of her signature cooking style (which usually involved throwing who-knows-what into it and making something that tasted awful...Cleo couldn't tell the difference).

Cleo had unpacked her stuff, hanging the tank top that she had got from Nol'Draden on a low branch. However, when she looked up from her meal, it wasn't there. Cleo was already half-standing when she noticed a small form curled up on the soft scales. She couldn't help but smile. Natra had apparently claimed Cleo's new shirt as a blanket. The pink female didn't mind all that much. With all her bouncing around, the kit needed some sleep.

Lukas sat down next to Cleo, folding his legs beneath him. His hood was still up, which was slightly unusual, but Cleo had more pressing things to worry about. "You can ask your questions now."

"Is Karmen her imaginary friend? Another thing, did the monarchy pass a law that names without the suffix -us are allowed now? Because if they did, I'm totally filing for a name change. Are you her father? Actually, better question, who ARE you?" She couldn't hold back the barrage of questions anymore.

Lukas leaned back, musing on how to respond. After a few moments, he began to do his best to satiate Cleo's curiosity. "Karmen is a xanthur, which should answer most of what you just asked right off the bat. You do know what a xanthur is, right?"

Cleo nodded. Most creatures in the nebula knew of the parasitic space slugs that slowly killed their hosts after binding to them. They could take complete control of the host, and no one would ever know. It was honestly a terrifying thought. "So, is she...?"

"No, Natra is still a kalon. Karmen is one of the more...moralistic xanthur that are out there. In fact, I think he's grown attached to her, both emotionally and literally. He does his best to keep her out of harm, because, as you can see, she tends to get into trouble quite easily." Lukas paused before continuing. "Natra wasn't the name she was born with. Once Karmen was discovered, her parents pretty much abandoned her. Having a xanthur in your child is bad for reputation. They revoked her name and disowned her, and Natra was the name she picked for herself afterwards. And to answer your other question, I'm not her father. We aren't related in any way at all. But she's a good helper, and provides me company."

Cleo nodded slowly. As far as she knew, she hadn't met a xanthur before, but Natra seemed relatively normal for a kit of 8 cliques. The kit in question was fast asleep, sucking on her front paw quietly.

The pair had been watching Natra's chest rise and fall for a good while when it happened. Her ears twitched, and the kit's eyes snapped open, but they weren't focused on anything. Cleo started to recoil away, but Lukas placed a paw on her shoulder, stopping her. "Don't be scared," he whispered without explaining what was happening.

Natra shivered, a visible sweat breaking across her brow. She looked ill, chills wracking her body. Cleo wanted to help, but Lukas' paw held her back. He lifted it off of Cleo's shoulder, and slowly, Lukas crept towards the kit. When he reached her, he stroked her hair until she calmed. "Karmen, is she alright?" He murmured to the kit worriedly.

Natra's mouth moved, and it was her voice that spoke, but Cleo had a gut feeling that this was not Natra. "Y-yes...she should be fine in the morning. It's not so bad this time..."

Lukas nodded, relief on his muzzle. He curled around the kit, making sure that she was comfortable. His eyes flicked to Cleo. "You should get some sleep." It wasn't a suggestion. Cleo stood, brushing the dirt off of her fluffy pants, and padded towards a pile of leaves she had set up earlier. She was thankful that she could pass out on pretty much any material without much trouble.





Cleo stayed with the strange pair for two more days after that, gathering supplies to rescue her brother. She didn't want to let down Natra, whom she had become attached to. It was hard to not like the enthusiastic kit. She planned to leave in the middle of the third night without a sound.

Of course, as she was padding away, her supplies in her bag (minus the tanktop, which she decided to leave with Natra), Lukas caught her.

"Where are you going?"

"To rescue my brother."

Lukas shifted his paws nervously. "You don't have to go alone."

Cleo frowned. "And what's the alternative, bringing someone who won't even tell me who they are? Or a kit that would probably get herself killed?" She knew it was harsh, but that was how these things had to go. She couldn't risk them following and getting hurt. Cleo didn't know how she would cope if anything happened to Natra.

"You don't understand. I'm trying to protect you."

"From what? Yourself?"

"The truth."

Cleo barked a laugh. "Whatever. I've spent too much time here. I have to go. Nic needs me." She wasn't concerned about whatever Lukas was talking about. Her brother was in danger. She should have left days ago, but she wasted time.

Lukas placed his paws on the sides of his hood. After a moment, he flipped it back, revealing shaggy grey hair and kind, blue eyes. Cleo froze. She knew those eyes. She knew those markings. She knew this kalon.

"You!" She hissed, sliding Binky and Ripper into her paws. She didn't care that this kalon had befriended her over the past few days, had made no attempt to hurt her, had been kind to a kit. It was him. The one who caused it all. The one who gave her her scar. The guard from the mines.

Cleo turned and ran. Lukas called out, but she didn't turn around. She wasn't going back there. She would only get hurt more.

-

Eventually, Cleo collapsed from exhaustion, chest heaving. She curled up, slipping into a slumber.

When she opened her eyes, Lukas was standing a few feet away. Cleo threw her arm up, Binky aimed towards the male. Lukas held up his paws, showing he had no weapons. "Listen. I know you don't trust me, and you have good reason. I am sorry for what happened that day. But it changed both of us for the better. Neither of us are stuck in those mines anymore, it sounds like you and your brother are doing really well, and I've got Natra. I don't know how you must be feeling right now, but I do know this. I want to help you get your brother back, even if it's only to right the wrong I did so many years ago."

Cleo growled, flattening her ears.

Lukas sighed. "That, and how do you plan on getting off of this planet?"

Cleo frowned. She...hadn't actually thought that far. She may be a mapper, but she wasn't much of a planner. Instead of responding, she just glared at the male.

"I have a ship. Karmen can watch Natra. Her sickness cycle shouldn't start up again for another few days, so they should be okay. I'm coming with you, whether you like it or not."

Cleo narrowed her eyes to slits. "Fine. But just so you know, it's 'or not.'''


*a clique is about 350 earth days. the term is used mostly by those that have experienced the mines, as every 350 days the locations of where miners work are swapped.

[Tommyttr]

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