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As far as Entrapta could tell, Hordak rarely left his lab.
Lord Hordak. Hordak. She was supposed to bow, wasn't she, Catra definitely said a lot about that and she definitely used to but then she’d forgotten so — so maybe it wasn’t an issue. Hordak would have said if he cared, about the bowing or the Lord or anything else, he certainly had no issue huffing and puffing as she fixed the wiring in his lab.
So it was a rare sight, Hordak emerging from his sanctum. Entrapta sat at the edge of the transport they’d ordered, watching as the people of the Fright Zone skittered in a wide berth around them. Hordak stood tall, looming over her. She had to crane her head back just to look at him. When he caught her looking, one of his brow-ridges lifted, and she waved.
It was kind of cute, really, to think about him like this compared to just a few nights before: big, scary Lord Hordak who smiled when he told her about the stars.
This was their first joint project, not getting straight to the portal but testing their compatibility in the lab on something less important. The results so far had been promising. She’d gone as far as to add Hordak to her logs, finding that:
One, he’d quickly surpassed Glimmer, Mermista, Perfuma, and Adora on all levels.
Two, he had an advantage on Catra and Scorpia in common interest.
And three, he’d swiftly surpassed Bow in time spent together. That added up to a grand picture of Hordak being her friend, didn’t it? The data certainly said so.
As for their ability working together? Entrapta felt a warmth welling up in her chest, so strong she had to kick her legs against the edge of the transport until she was bouncing in place.
It was amazing.
Her bots had been the only things that came close to the role Hordak played now, handing her tools and stabilizing loose pieces while she bolted them in place. The first day she’d shown up in his lab, there’d been an apprehension in her chest. How many times now had she thought she’d made a friend, only for the next time around to go all wrong. She’d really thought she’d made friends — three friends, five, six of them.
And then they’d left her. Every one of them.
But walking into the lab that morning, she found Hordak hunched over a desk with her blueprints open on his data pad: another project sent for approval that she actually hadn’t started yet. He’d turned it over to her and said, “We will be building a prototype of this design.”
And then they had. Just like that.
Both of them fumbled at first, she thought. She kept bumping into him, he groped about on a table for tools that were in her hair. And then he said, “Put the tools on the table if you are not using them.” And she had said, “Tell me when you’re behind me so I don’t bump into you.”
And then they had done that. Both of them. And by the end of the working day, they were working smoothly around each other, the silence broken by Hordak’s grunts of “Behind you,” and the shuffling of tools on the workbench.
They built a prototype, criticized and refined its design, her suggestions were met with questions, counters, and proposals, his methods met her awe and her criticism—
“If you wire it that way, it’s going to burn out,” she’d told him, and when he glanced up and growled there’d been a pang, a seizure of anxiety in her chest and a voice that chanted you shouldn’t have done that.
“What would you propose?” He rumbled.
And he’d listened.
They’d done it. Together. And now it was time to test it.
And all of that meant that she had a lab partner. She had a lab partner. Sometimes that thought made her so happy she couldn’t contain herself. Sometimes it filled her with enough panic to gnaw her nails down to the quicks when she thought how she was only there to build weapons, only good as long as she was useful.
But that couldn’t be true, could it? None of the others told her about the stars.
And not just because chances were that they didn’t have any idea what stars were.
“Lord Hordak, sir!” A man ran up and snapped a salute. “We finished loading the transport. It’s fueled and ready for departure.”
Hordak grunted, “Hm. Good. You are dismissed.” He twisted a hand and the technician bolted, interaction done in a few quick seconds. She didn’t really get it — he was big and tall, sure, and his armor was impressive, but for all he growled and knocked tools off the table, he’d never done a thing to hurt her. Quite the contrary, she might be the happiest she’d been in her life.
Whatever their reasons, the soldiers scrambled to carry out his orders. There was a clatter as the hangar doors opened. Taking that as their cue, Entrapta swung herself through the open door of the transport, Hordak stalking behind.
The transports were pretty exciting: a wheel and pedal to steer but a data pad built into the dashboard that logged coordinates and known surroundings, scanned the area for threats. And the one they were taking wasn’t earthbound. Then she had to consider the amount of propulsion it would take to get this machine off the ground and keep it in the air — it made her eyes shine.
Hordak looked at her and she realized she was squeaking again. She bounced towards the controls, saying, “You have to give me the blueprints for these. Flying transportation could change the world! How does it work, tell me everything!” A thought struck her brain and she gasped, pushing herself up by her hair and into Hordak’s face. “Can I fly it?”
He narrowed one eye, stepping backwards. “I will handle launching while you observe,” he announced. “I can certainly explain the mechanisms at work once we do so, but for now it is not safe to fly without training first.”
Entrapta deflated for a moment, trying not to let her disappointment show on her face. Then Hordak cleared his throat. When she looked up, he was straight-based, arms folded behind himself and head tilted up and to the right, eyes directed away from her. She knew that posture well. “Once we are in the air, however... I believe it would be safe to let you take over the controls until we reach the landing point.”
“YES!” Entrapta leaped up, propelled by her hair. She grabbed the seat beside the pilot’s after that, throwing herself into it. “Let’s go, come on come on!”
She swore she heard him laugh at that, just a quiet chuckle as he took his seat beside hers. “Safety belts first,” he reminded her, as he clipped his into place. The seats were equipped with five point harnesses that fed over the chest and lap and between the legs. “Only the lap belt is required at all times,” Hordak explained. “The other three are for takeoff and landing, so you will need to wear all of them before we proceed.”
“Gotcha!” Entrapta buckled herself in. She knew objectively that her own lack of safety procedures were questionable — Hordak was regularly scolding her for getting too close to volatile machinery, even if the data said there was only a zero point zero zero three percent chance of destabilizing. But he’d put his foot down about it, and he was good at catching her when she got too excited to remember to put on the heat insulated gloves before grabbing a freshly-fired laser blaster.
When they were both strapped in, Hordak reached for the controls. A slow rumbling started up, making her heart flutter. She watched as Hordak began the takeoff sequence, walking her through each part in his low, raspy tones. He really had a pleasant voice, she mused.
Initially, Hordak was going over things she understood: fuel combustion, admittedly on a scale larger than she was used to working with — and a shortage of adequate fuel was part of the reason they could so rarely use these heavy transports. But she knew the mechanism behind it, and it gave her time to sit and observe him.
The more she looked, the more it made sense that he wasn’t Etherian. He didn’t match any of their known peoples, a face that resembled bone but was soft and pliable enough to speak and emote and could replicate a wider range of sounds than she knew possible in any humanoid species. His natural vocalizations included clicks and growls, occasionally even making a sound similar to a chirp to perform what Entrapta could only compare to echolocation. He’d found a bit of loose wiring deep inside their device that way. Despite that, he could speak Etherian common without issue, as well as the roaring language that Rogelio and the other lizardfolk used.
It would probably be rude to inquire about his vocal anatomy, right? Right?
Maybe she’d ask later.
She refocused as he started to get to points she wasn’t familiar with, leaning forward and watching eagerly. Those working in the hangar cleared the way, lights illuminating the path down to the opened gates and into the sky.
She screamed with excitement when their rolling forward began to accelerate, rapidly picking up speed to the point she was leaning back in her chair, eyes wide as the sky raced towards them.
Then they were out in open air. The jagged shape of the Fright Zone spilled out below them, and beyond that was the sea, glittering and blue.
She leaned as far forward as her safety belts would allow, giving a soft “Wow,” as she took it in. She unclipped all but her lap belts to get closer to the windshield, beaming as she said, “I’ve never been to the sea before!”
Hordak made a sound of acknowledgement, and Entrapta continued, “I’m not much for biology but there’s just so much down there that we haven’t explored. Actually much of Etheria in itself is unknown, when you consider the vast depths of the ocean, space, and then unexplored terrestrial locations such as the Crimson Wastes and the Whispering Woods, and even the Kingdom of Snows has only expanded so far.”
“That the denizens of this planet barely understand the rock they dwell on tells me all I need to know about them,” Hordak rumbled. Entrapta leaned back to look at him, finding herself smiling.
“It’s kind of fun, though,” Entrapta commented. “I mean, if all the discoveries had already been made, there’d be no questions to ask. Not knowing what’s in the Whispering Woods is what makes you want to explore it, figure it out! Maybe we’re a little behind the greater universe, but every discovery is worthwhile to me.”
Hordak glanced at her for just a moment, his ears perking somewhat. “... Perhaps,” he ground out. “Your perspective is…” He went quiet for a few moments, before settling on, “ different. Personally I am content to stay far away from those wretched woods, as well as the ocean. However, I suppose that someone would find intrigue in unlocking their secrets.”
They were both silent for several moments, until Hordak said, “We are in a clear zone, if you would like to steer —”
“YES!”
Hordak took over the landing sequence, regardless of Entrapta’s wheedling. His face had pinched and his voice went low and growl-y enough that she bristled her hair at him but still backed away from the controls. At least she’d figured out how to launch the ship into a spiral, and she swore she’d heard Hordak laugh.
They might have even more in common than she’d believed, even if he refused to let loose. If Hordak was going to be the one who insisted on safety parameters, Entrapta could be the one to push limits.
For now, safety parameters won out once again and she watched Hordak bring them down on the offshore testing site. It was a desert island, and even from above she could already see the patches of burned or empty space where other weapons had been tested. A landing pad received them, the transport’s doors creaked upon, and Entrapta seized the data pad to link up with their very first invention.
“Introducing!” Entrapta announced, lifting up on her hair, recorder trapped in a tendril, “The very first joint project between myself and Hordak, designed to adapt to land, sea, and air via a series of problem and solution protocols, I have named her: Patty!”
She clapped her hands twice, and on cue Patty lurched forward. Entrapta flitted around Hordak to watch over his shoulder, barely catching how he tensed and shifted away in favor of Patty’s first steps. Or, first revolutions of her treads.
“Patty has three forms. The first, terran form, features treads that can move over all terrain: over rocks and mud and sand and ice, and ideally underwater! However, if necessary Patty can deploy thrusters in both its aquan and aerial forms! And oooooh she’s a beauty.”
Patty was a transport, the engine formed similarly to the skiffs with a body that was more sturdy, allowing its riders to use it for both movement and cover. This would advance the Fright Zone’s ability to expand into less favorable terrain, and potentially aid them in future battles against Salineas, Mystacor, or the Kingdom of Snows.
She looked over to Hordak, who was still observing Patty. “Bring it down to the shoreline. We will test first its aerial and then underwater capabilities.”
“You got it!”
They boarded a skiff — again, at Hordak’s insistence. Better, in his view, to use tech they knew was stable than to risk Patty giving out with them on board. They tracked her as she rolled down towards the shoreline, easily climbing over rocks and onto sand.
“The overland speed without obstacles is adequate,” Hordak began, and then tipped his head to speak into the recorder as Entrapta held it up, “however I believe we should attempt to increase its average speed without overtaxing the engine.”
“The problem with that is slowing down in time to get over the obstacles,” Entrapta pointed out. “Buuut… if we were to integrate some of the bots’ sensors into it —”
“— It could automatically detect these obstacles and adjust to the need without risk of driver error,” Hordak concluded.
They looked at each other, each with a smile. Entrapta’s was broad with delight, Hordak’s sharp and keen. It dropped away a moment later as he swiveled his head back to Patty, clearing his throat before saying, “Why don’t you activate its aerial mode now.”
“Right!” Entrapta leaped to it, chattering into the recorder as she issued the command. She bounced between her feet, laughing with joy as the chassis shifted and shuffled, making room for wings and thrusters, treads sinking into its body and replaced by wheels. The thrusters burst to life, and she watched Patty sail off the edge of a stone outcropping, into the air above the sea, and then into the sky.
She shrieked, utter delight swelling in her chest. “It’s working! She’s flying!”
“She —” Hordak made a face. “It is hanging severely to starboard.”
Entrapta puffed out a dismissive breath, flapping a hand at him. “We can fix that. The point is that she’s in the air on the very first flight.”
“Of course she is,” Hordak sniffed. “She is a product of both of our expertise combined.”
And there it was again. That swelling, too-big-for-her-chest sense of joy. She could hug him, considered doing it against her better judgement before discarding that. She tended to grab and pull without thinking, but he’d made his distaste for that clear. And he didn’t even shout when she inevitably forgot and grabbed at him again, just growled out her name and a reminder and she’d let go and it was fine.
Working with Hordak was simple in a way she found difficult to articulate, only that she felt different around him. More real, more herself, like she didn’t have to think about her actions, didn’t believe she’d understood him only to realize too late she was wrong.
The Fright Zone as a whole was a lot like that. Not quite as much as Hordak and his Sanctum were, but the bare truth was she’d felt more at home there than she ever did in Dryl.
The Horde was home to the outcasts of Etheria, she’d concluded. Their first allies had been the Scorpionoid kingdom, a family long ostracized by the other nations. The reptilians whose vocal chords couldn’t shape around Etherian common could speak and be heard here. Her own kingdom had slotted perfectly into place, a kingdom without a runestone given value.
She knew better than to think that what they were doing was good. It didn’t have to be good, it just had to feel good. She liked this place, liked Catra and Scorpia, liked Rogelio who lended a hand without a word when she needed to move something heavy, liked Octavia with the boisterous laughs and inquiries into experiments she didn’t fully understand.
She liked Hordak. She liked working with him. She liked knowing she’d get to do it again tomorrow, and again the next day, and that they’d keep working together to make something amazing, something that would let her see the very stars he’d told her about.
Entrapta tried not to dwell on the past much. The past was only useful to learn from the mistakes you’d made. But when she did, at night when there wasn’t something else to occupy her mind before she fell asleep, she came to one conclusion: she had never been happier. She had never felt more at home.
She drew in a deep breath and smiled as she puffed it out. “Ready to test the underwater capabilities, partner?” She asked.
Hordak paused for just one moment before answering, “Ready.”
It was scary, to think about ever losing this, to think about the ever-pressing what-if. What if this was just like before, like every other person coming to Dryl just for the weapons, never for the people and only for what they made.
But maybe this one would be different. It already was different, really, a brand new variable to take into account:
She’d never had a lab partner before.