Chapter Eighty-Three – Not a Bad Day

Chapter Eighty-Three – Not a Bad Day

“The failure of the Apollo 37 program can be directly attributed to a fault in one of the regulatory valves. This valve was originally designed to operate at 62amps but a replacement was added which was designed to function at 48amps. The difference in current strength led to the melting of the plastic sheathing on the sensor system around the electronic valve, leading to a spark. In the high-pressure environment of the capsule, this spark turned into a conflagration that killed three of the five astronauts onboard the mission.

Seeing as how the fault was not caused by one of the machines created by the N-ESA space agency, the N-ESA will not be responsible for spacecraft retrieval, or for the insurance payouts of these astronauts.”

–N-ESA report, June 2047

***

“How was that?” I asked as I stepped back behind the stage.

Gomorrah was standing just a few feet away from the curtains, arms crossed and face set in a frown. Not that bad of a frown, though. I’d rate it a solid four out of ten on the frown scale, so she wasn’t pissed off at me or anything. “It sounded like you went on stage and hadn’t prepared anything at all, and then just winged it.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“Well, I suppose in light of that, it wasn’t as terrible as it could have been,” Gomorrah said. “You got the right points across.”

“Cool,” I said. I looked around, but it was just me, Gomorrah and… Shy? Huh, I’d hardly seen her at all today. “You have fun?” I asked her.

She blinked, then looked around, almost as if to make sure I was addressing her. “Um. Yes?”

I laughed at the look of her. It was pretty clear that she probably felt like this day would have been better spent staying at home all day. “Don’t worry, it’s over. You can head back home if you want to.”

“It’s not entirely over,” Gomorrah said. “We still need to make sure that all of these people make it home without breaking out into a large battle right here at the hotel. And we need to talk to the casino, to thank them for hosting the event and for their assistance.”

“Cool, you handle that,” I said.

The frown ticked up a level.

“Catherine, you can’t expect me to handle everything,” she said.

“I mean, no, but I did the bit where I had to go on stage and look good, so I figure I’ve done a decent share of the work, and–” I paused to yawn. “And I’m tired. I get that it’s been a long day for you too, but… yeah. My batteries are empty. I’m out of energy.”

Gomorrah worked her jaw, then nodded. “Fine. I’ll send Nya a text, let her know to send people out once she’s done with her next song.”

I nodded along, then looked back. Nya was on stage, bobbing her head and singing along to her own playing. I didn’t know much about music. I liked the beeps and boops, but I wasn’t anything close to even an amateur enjoyer. Still, I could tell that Nya was pretty good at the whole music thing. She was playing and singing at the same time, and while I didn’t understand Japanese enough to guess at the lyrics, that didn’t mean I couldn’t tell that she was a good singer.

I watched for a while, then Nya bid everyone a good night and stepped off stage. Then things got busy again. The various gangsters seemed to clue in that the whole thing was over, so there was a sudden rush for the exit, though to be fair, most of them moved at a slow, reasonable pace.

I circled around, heading out towards the front, and that’s when I encountered Lucy in one of the corridors.

“Cat!” She said as she saw me. She stumbled over, and I caught her in my arms.

“Hey, you okay?” I asked.

She nodded, face rubbing against me. “Yeah,” she said. “Just tired. My legs are killing me, and my feet are pain.”

“Ah, well, shit, that’s no good.” Just a month ago, Lucy needed crutches to get anywhere, and it was always safer for her to be in a wheelchair than not. Even with near-magical nano-whatever healing, I didn’t imagine that her legs were quite on the level of someone who hadn’t spent years with a degenerative disease.

So, obviously, a long day where she had to walk around a lot was going to be far more taxing. And yet she’d done it anyway, because she was awesome.

“Hup!’ I said as I scooped her up and off her feet. Lucy gasped, arms grasping onto me before she realized what I’d done.

“Cat, you can’t princess carry me around,” Lucy said.

“I’m doing it already, so it feels kind of pointless to say that I can’t,” I replied.

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“I mean, you shouldn’t,” she said. “It’ll ruin my image.”

“No it won’t,” I disagreed.

“I can walk.”

“I’m sure you can,” I replied. “Don’t worry. I’ll put you back down.”

“Thanks… uh, now?”

“When we get home,” I said.

Lucy giggled, then squirmed a little, but I wasn’t about to let her go. I liked carrying her like this. It made me feel strong. Some monkey-brain part of me enjoyed holding onto Lucy like she was a trophy and letting the world see it. Plus another, unrelated monkey-brain part of me liked showing off how strong I was in front of Lucy.

After a moment, Lucy seemed to find it fun too. She pointed me to a few of her kittens that she had to talk to, and then gave them instructions and orders from the comfort of my arms with the occasional cute little kick of her legs.

We went around the ground floor, generally avoiding the main lobby space, though I did get to glance that way once or twice. It was emptying fast.

The gangs weren’t in any hurry to stick around, though I did see some of them taking selfies in front of my mechs or by Tankette’s little food stand. More were talking in little groups and pockets, heads bowed.

“Do you think this will work?” I asked.

“Hmm,” Lucy said. She shifted, making herself smaller, pressing herself closer. “Yeah. For a few weeks. People will forget, though. I’d say you have a month of peace, more or less, maybe two or three if you make an example, then three to six more months where people will hesitate, then it’s open season again.”

I sighed. That sounded a little too likely.

Still, some amount of peace was better than none, and… yeah, I’d been faffing around lately, not really working on my own advancement as much as I maybe should have, so a few months of relative peace wouldn’t hurt.

It was a few more months to climb the metaphorical ranks, to become a bit stronger.

Eventually, an hour and a half after the end of the show, after I’d been carrying Lucy in my arms for nearly a full hour, we headed over to the Bastion.

The doors slid open, and in my mechs went, walking to their places and allowing some mechanical arms to clamp down onto their chassis to hold them in place.

I set Lucy down on one of the seats in the cockpit, then went back and fetched a blanket from the rear. She laughed when I tucked her in, but five minutes later, when I returned from checking to make sure that everything was secure, I found her breathing quietly, head bowed and eyes closed.

We flew home silently. The casino really wasn’t too far from home, so it wasn’t long before I could see the giant cat-shaped form atop of one of the shorter skyscrapers in our corner of New Montreal.

I came in for a gentle landing, taking it slower than usual so that I wouldn’t disturb the soft snores coming in behind me.

The Bastion obliged, landing with barely a bump.

Then I unbuckled myself, climbed out of my seat, and went back to scoop Lucy up in another princess carry. She woke up, of course, but I just hummed and told her we were home.

I couldn’t blame her for being tired. Tonight had been a lot of work… no, today had been a lot of work. My part was smaller and easier than Lucy’s, and technically, her bit wasn’t over yet. She’d have to do after-action reports, give out praise, and do whatever it was she did when trying to grow her little empire of cat-themed sycophants.

The Kittens came out, some of them were obviously still awake, and they were curious. I told them to shut the fuck up, threw a few threats around that would have had hardened gangsters shitting themselves a few minutes ago and which bounced off these little idiots like a fly off a hovercar windshield, and mostly I pushed through the gaggle and to our bedroom.

“I can help with them,” Lucy said.

“Don’t worry,” I said as I set her down on ‘her’ side of the bed. “I’ll go put something in the microwave. Stay here so that I can undress you, yeah?”

“Ohh, I like the sound of that,” Lucy said, her voice turning sultry.

I left, tossed some frozen pogos into the microwave, then plated them so that the brats had something to eat.

When I returned, I found Lucy half-turned around, hugging the crumpled bedsheets close, a light snore already coming out of her. She hadn’t even tried to get out of the business clothes she was in.

I shook my head and smiled.

It wasn’t a bad day, overall.

***

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