It's five months since I last posted a chapter... A shorter one this time. I really wanted to get it finished, since I didn't really have time for it during the university business.
Oh, and here's an illustration to the last one, too.
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Chapter 6 – Replacing the Title
Logger woke up a bit earlier than he did the day before. He didn’t open his eyes for a while; instead, he remained in his bunk, recalling what happened on the previous day. The arguement about the schematics was the first thing to pop into his mind. Logger wondered how much work will they have with the correction of the faulty blueprint. He tried to believe that they will succeed, although he had doubts. It was strange that how many technicians and engineers have tried to perfect the RG schematics, and yet all of them failed. And there were they: an over-optimistic Vykker, an ancient Slig on the verge of suffocation by constant coughing, and himself, an unexperienced greenhorn…
Greenhorn… The word brought him back to reality, reminding him of the day he arrived. It seemed like a long time has passed since then, and yet it was only two days ago. He remembered the Slig who sent him across the catwalk for entertainment. Someone mentioned his name the previous day… Maybe Croe. Or was it someone else? Maybe the Slig he met before he found the Armory. Logger put that matter aside, since it wasn’t exactly important. From all that he has seen of Sligs in the factory, it seemed that good equipment is a status symbol, like at all Industrial places where Sligs set their mechanical feet.
He opened his eyes and turned his head to the left. His pants were there, standing next to his bag. His laptop was at his left arm, with his pistol on the top. He gazed at the weapon for a while, thinking that he actually made a good deal at the Armory. The gun seemed to be functioning well – the clip didn’t jam when he loaded it – and, by the looks of it, the only fault of the pistol was that it was rusty here and there, and the grip was a bit worn-out. He extended his right arm, picked up the gun a started examining it in the darkness. He adjusted his mask to see better, but he realised that he might have done all this with a bit more noise than he wanted to. He froze, trying to remain silent, and looked to the right.
Smokey was lying in his bunk, facing his pants on his right, breathing peacefully, although in a rasping manner. It seemed that Logger didn’t wake him up with his clattering. He wasn’t exactly sure why was he so worried about whether he woke the old Slig or not. Maybe because of an unconcious respect, or just by the superstition that early people can be rather grumpy. Judging on how Smokey behaved the previous morning, Logger didn’t want to experiment on the matter. Instead, he wondered if he could get into his pants and leave the room quietly.
Logger scrambled to his arms slowly and grabbed his pistol with his tentacles. This move was, of course, natural to him and most Sligs. According to scientists who studied the origins of different Mudosian species, Sligs in ancient – and unmechanical – times also used their tentacles to climb trees to reach food, and to use tools in later times. It was almost like a third arm to compensate their lack of legs.
He crept out of his bunks quietly, trying to maintain a firm grip on his pistol. He reached his pants and pushed a button on the body, next to where the left leg connected to it. The mechanism lowered the body to ground level, so Logger could get into it without the risk of toppling it. He climbed into the pants and pushed the button again, raising him back up to normal level. He replaced the pistol into his right hand and sneaked out from the room. He silently cursed his mechanical legs for making such noise, but luckily, it didn’t make Smokey stir. After he passed the threshold, he closed the door of the room, which slid down, thudding into its place.
The workshop was deserted. From the looks of it, Phyl was wither inside his room or out for some fixing to do. Logger now had a chance to examine the equipment from up close. Along the wall were various containers and counters, all stocked with tools for working with metal: wrenches, welders, screwdrivers, hammers ranging from small to enormous – just to name of few. There were some more complex machines between the containers, which also seemed to be used for fashioning metal: Logger saw a heavy press machine just across the table in the middle of the room, and some gas containers next to it. Logger noted for himself that the room was well-equipped for such plans as theirs. Although he did not see any tools for more delicate processes like programming and production of complicated integral parts, he was sure that they could handle it. Maybe Phyl did all of the detail work inside his room, undisturbed by others.
Done with examining the room, Logger decided to leave and explore for a bit before he went to his post in the Cafeteria. He made his way to the door and opened it, just to nearly bump into a Slig with a cart. The Slig noticed him, and grabbed three mugs from the cart. "Caught me on time. Here." He said, passing the mugs to Logger. He looked into them, and saw that it was coffee.
"Oh, right. Thanks. Nearly forgot about it." Said Logger, turning around to place two of the mugs on the repair table.
"Good for you." Called the Slig from behind. "Then you ain’t gonna bother me with pleading for more at noon."
"Why? Is that common?" asked Logger, leaving the room with his mug in his hand, closing the door behind him. The two Sligs set off along the corridor.
"Quite. They keep coming for more if they find themselves dozing off. I’d be rich if I received a two’o’bill for every mug I give away, lemme tell you." Said the Slig.
"I see." Said Logger, taking a sip from his mug. "I guess it’s like money. The more you receive, the more you want to have."
"Good ’nalogy." Said the Slig, stopping at the next door. Logger drank the last gulps of his coffee and placed the empty mug on the cart. "Well, I won’t keep you. See you some other time."
"Likewise." Said the Slig, passing a couple of mugs to the Slig who opened the door. The latter seemed to be on the verge of falling asleep.
Logger made his way to the platform and descended to level 2, just like he did the previous day. Since he was still a bit early, he saw a different picture on the corridors. Sligs were ushering smaller groups of Mudokons as he walked along towards the Cafeteria. This was the first time Logger saw the Mudokons from up close – except his short meeting with the Mudokon cook at the Cafeteria. The laborers looked rather helpless, being pushed towards their work posts by his collegues. Some of them looked annoyed, others slightly pale – maybe from hunger or exhaustion – and the rest just walked along, casting nervous glances behind, only to be smacked in the back by the stock of a rifle.
As Logger headed towards his post, he passed the yellowing posters again. He noticed that something has changed among them. Here and there, the wall looked a bit lighter and cleaner in a rectangular shape – the places of freshly removed posters, Logger thought. As he walked on, he saw a bunch of pipes running towards the ceiling at the wall, with another clean area next to it. He remembered it from yesterday: there was a poster of the Mudokon called Freg there, the laborer who was Employee of the Month until the lunch break of the previous day. And a few steps ahead, he saw a Slig tearing another Freg poster down from the wall and throwing it into the container he was carrying on his back. Fame in Rupture Farms was as temporary as the effects of coffee.
He finally reached the corridor which led to the Cafeteria. Logger saw a few others heading there, although he couldn’t recognize any of them from that distance. Sometimes, it was even hard from up close. Of course, there were some particular signs which could help with identifying a Slig. Be it a special weapon - like Zero’s energy rifle - , the way of communication – like Spatch’s unusual use of Mudosian, or Dim’s complete lack of intelligent speech - , or an appearance feature – like Smokey’s aging equipment or just him looking old. But the guards up ahead were nearly identical for Logger, so he didn’t really bother with recognising them.
He reached the platform in the wall and took it to the catwalk level. He got off and walked to the place where he and Croe watched over the laborers the previous day. On his way, he only saw about six Sligs in the Cafeteria, most of them on the ground level below. He leant against the railing and watched the others. This didn’t prove to be entertaining, since they were doing just the same as Logger. Time passed on slowly, now that there wasn’t anyone in the vicinity to talk to. The rest of the Sligs on the level didn’t look too talkative anyway. The closest one, who was standing to the left, over the wall where a plate of minced meat shattered yesterday, was cleaning his gun in an aggressive manner. It seemed that some cartridges had got stuck in the ammo shaft, and he couldn’t load them into the barrel at all. He ended up smacking the gun against the railing hopelessly, adding a set of Sliggish cursing. Logger decided to leave him alone, seeing that the Slig was not exactly in a talkative temper right then.
After a while, other Sligs arrived to the Cafeteria. Logger thought he recognised Spatch among them, and this was justified when he heard his wierd manner of speech from underneath the catwalk he was standing on. Apparently, Spatch just came over to talk with the kitchen guards. He was not fulfilling guard duties in the Cafeteria, as far as Logger knew. Later, two Sligs appeared in the entrance, whom Logger instantly recognised as Dim and Croe. The latter indicated to his companion where he should go, just like the previous day. The baton Slig obeyed, trotting along the opposite wall and took his post next to the benches. Croe looked up and noticed Logger on the catwalk. He raised a hand as a greeting, which Logger returned. Croe took the platform and a few moments later, he was standing next to Logger, leaning his shotgun against the railing.
"You got here real early. How long have you been standing here?" he asked.
"Uh, maybe a couple of hours, I don’t know." answered Logger.
"Heh. What, did they chase you off from Maintenance for messing up a grinder or something?"
"Nah, it’s just a slow day at the workshop, that’s all. Nothing to do right now. "
"Uh-huh. Still, it’s the same thing going here." said Croe, looking around in the Cafeteria. "Nothing happens here until the Mudokons arrive…"
They stood there for a couple of minutes in silence, waiting for lunchtime. Logger was calmer than he was the previous day. He knew what to expect and what to do. That is, lots of Mudokons and practically nothing. After a while, the Mudokons were huddled in the Cafeteria by Sligs. The labourers lined up for their plates and took seats. Logger noticed that some of them cast anxious looks towards the catwalks, possibly looking for the owner of a particular energy weapon. But they ate as quietly as they could.
"Heh. It seems that Zero made his point yesterday." Said Croe quietly next to him. Logger nodded, turning back to see the Mudokons. None of them seemed mutinous that day. After they finished eating, they stood up and left the Cafeteria, escorted by the usual Slig guards. The remaining Sligs, including Logger and Croe, made their way to the kitchen and took their plates.
Logger and Croe was sitting next to eachother, eating their portion of roast meat. Logger looked up from his plate for a second, then turned to Croe. "You saw those posters being removed? About that Freg guy who was killed here yesterday?"
Croe swallowed a bite of his food. "Yeah. He’s been already replaced. "
"Already?" asked Logger in disbelief.
"You expected a funeral for him or something?" Croe shook his head. "Yeah, the new posters are already out there on the walls. Some wierd looking Mudokon. Never saw anything like it."
"What do you mean? What’s so strange about him?" asked Logger.
"He’s blue." finished Croe, turning back to his plate.