Chapter 17: Standing Out

Didi isn't stupid, though from the chittering and flapping Pip is doing, along with his mutterings about how foolish she is going on and on in her ear, he thinks otherwise. She's not about to barrel her way back into the cargo bay where she found the gunslinger without checking it out first. Sure, she has a cyborg protector stomping along behind her now. But with Jackus and his two companions armed with gunslinger weapons, she has no idea if the resurrected peacekeeper can stand against them on his own.

Her goggles lowered, she scans the area as they draw close, surprised how quickly they make the return trip. The rats didn't drag her far, though that does make sense the more she thinks about it. They cornered her in this area, so their lair had to have been nearby. She shivers at the thought of them still undertrash, possibly following her. She has to put that out of her mind if she's going to concentrate on keeping them safe from Jackus.

The gunslinger stands over her as she continues her scan, his tall, shining body looming, dare she say sparkling, in the sun. A beacon of machinery perfection and an absolute eyesore. She glares up at him as she turns and catches a flash of his shininess in her goggles, making her wince.

"You stand out like a hammer struck thumb," she grumbles.

His servos hum as he looks down at her. "I do appear to be rather obvious." Is he joking? Was that humor in his voice? Surely not. She imagined it.

He's a gunslinger, not a comedian.

"There is no need to be cautious." He walks past her, heading for the ramp down to the cargo bay. "Were there concern, I would have alerted you long ago."

Didi's jaw jumps as she chases after him. Arrogant so and so, how dare he treat her like a little girl? She contemplates a hard kick to those sparkly, silver buttocks, wondering if her foot would hurt, as he strides with absolute confidence into the darkness undertrash.

She's not used to having someone as competent as herself in her life. Sure, Dad is great and all, but he needs her, she's been aware of that her entire existence, can recall bringing him dinner at a tiny, tender age. Even making sure he slept and curling up with him when she could barely walk. This new relationship, she decides as she clomps her irritation down into the cargo hold after the gunslinger, is most unsatisfying so far.

It's time Didi set the ground rules.

She opens her mouth to tell him what for, even as he spins on her and speaks in his mild, calm voice.

"I'm assuming you have no means of transport to the city?" He sounds kind and all, but he has the body and demeanor of a soldier. She reacts to his confidence with a nod, kicking herself mentally he's able to manipulate her like that.

"The plan," she stresses the word so he's clear it's her plan and not his, "is to reach the mag train and ride it into Trash City." Rather ingenious, she thinks. Though, she has no idea how difficult it might actually be to enact such a plan. She's never been on the train or even near it, save for the occasional depot she and Dad passed on their way into the city years ago.

Can't be that hard, can it? It's just a train.

The gunslinger doesn't comment. "And, when we reach our target location, what then?"

Pip thrashes on her shoulder, swallowing over and over again as his throat flutters. "You can't go," he says. "It's too dangerous, Didi." His beak swings around, red eye whirling. "We have him now. Send the robot and be done with it."

The gunslinger's head rotates slightly, blue eyes dimming. "I," he says in a low, gentle voice, "am not a robot."

Pip shifts uncomfortably in the silence that falls over them. Didi's heart pounds despite herself as the quiet lengthens and focuses on the tall, deadly gunslinger who stares without motion at her trembling crow.

"Sorry," Pip mumbles at last. "Gunslinger."

The cyborg nods slowly. "Crow."

Peace, how delightful. Didi shakes off the eeriness of the last moments, acutely aware of the tension remaining in the dim cargo space. Even as a cyborg, he's sensitive, it seems.

"You seem to think we need to seek out the G.C. mechcops," Didi says, continuing the former conversation.

The gunslinger returns his attention to her. "So I said." He pauses, servos whirring as he shrugs. It's an odd gesture from a cyborg, as flexible and realistic as he seems to be. She can almost imagine he's a real person inside a suit of armor, like a knight from the ancient days of Earth or even a man in a suit. But, the reality of his existence, of his humanity, is a fraction of his original body, most of which comes down to the damaged brain housed in his helmet.

She can't think about him like a person. Because he isn't anymore.

"Then, why are you asking?" Didi turns her back on him and retrieves her bag. She has some food and water, a few tools. She checks the charge on her laser pen, disappointed to see it's almost empty. She holds it up to the gunslinger. "Any chance you can fill this up again?"

His sigh is immensely human. "I'm a gunslinger, not a plug."

And not much good to her with that attitude.

"I asked," he says as she hefts her bag and goes looking for an outlet to charge her pen, "because you seem to think doing so won't solve your present circumstance." He pauses again and she wonders how much damage there really is to his human brain. It's like he has to stop and think or reset or something. Didi suppresses her nervousness about his condition.

He's all she's got.

"Perhaps," he says, "I am unaware of present politics." Wait, is he agreeing with her? "We will investigate all means of restoring your father to you before making a final decision."

That makes her feel better. "Thank you." She didn't mean to say that. In fact, she had a smart remark on the tip of her tongue. Somehow, her gratitude made it out first.

"You are very welcome, Didi," he says, bowing his head to her. "Though, we shall see, before too long, if thanking me is the correct response. I have no idea what danger I am leading you, a civilian and a child, into."

If he wanted to endear himself further to her, he's failed miserably. Didi spins away from him and jabs the end of the pen into the socket next to the fallen body of the female gunslinger. It sizzles and pops, but seems to be charging, much like her temper.

"Don't for a second underestimate me," she snarls into the wall, shoulders shaking. "Not for a second. And if you think you're going to leave me behind, you might as well shut yourself down right now, G.S."

"I apologize." She turns to see him watching her. His stillness gives her the creeps about as much as it makes her feel safe, oddly. What a mix of responses to the hulking, shining cyborg. "You are clearly a resourceful," he pauses again, head tilting, "young woman." Didi groans and turns away. "But, you must realize my programming includes protecting civilians from undue harm."

She assumed that was the case and feels her anger fizzle out without fuel for it. Blikey. "Well, go ahead and reroute that particular piece of programming," she says. "Because from this point on, I'm your boss." She jerks the pen from the outlet and checks the charge. Three quarters. It'll have to do. She doesn't have the patience to wait much longer. She thinks briefly of her protections, sewn into her filthy clothing, but there's no time for that, either.

The only weapons she has are her boots, the gunslinger... and her mind.

It'll have to do.

The gunslinger doesn't comment, but Pip finally speaks up.

"And I'm her second in command." His chest puffs outward, feathers fluffing. "Got that, gunslinger?"

Didi's chest tightens a moment as an odd noise escapes the cyborg peacekeeper. At first, she's not sure what it is-some malfunction shredding an internal system? She can't afford to have him break down now. Not when she's on her way at last to finding Dad.

That sound, it's deep and rumbling and so odd she takes a half step toward him before she stops and feels her jaw unhinge, eyes widening.

And grins suddenly as she understands, a giggle escaping into the still air of the cargo bay.

The gunslinger is laughing.

***

He watches her turn, still giggling, and head for the exit, his humor registering as an anomaly. He hasn't laughed in a very long time. The crow's arrogance triggered something in him, in the damaged part of his brain, and, though he knows it has to be a sign of his degradation, he embraces the humanity and simple joy of it.

If this is a signal of his eventual downfall, he will accept it. Because it feels good to laugh.

With the sweet face of the laughing girl growing more prominent in his scrambled memory, the gunslinger follows Didi with a light heart the likes of which none of his kind has ever known.

***