Chapter Text
"Let's get some breakfast."
Boots strode forward with confidence as his friends followed down from Rowdy's, all smiling, whirring, or orbiting with newfound determination. The air around him was the same, comforting smell of smoke and ozone he grew up in, with the reverberating hum of the fountain (or now, the Echo Gate) accompanying their walk down past the Spiral. He caught from the corner of his eye Stiletto staring upwards, watching the light cascade.
"I haven't seen this place in forever," Stiletto reminisced. "It feels so much different."
"You're from here?" Paco asked.
"Cordica, actually. Same as Fatima," she clarified. "I think Boots is the only one who grew up here, right?"
He hummed in reply, continuing forward. He had just reunited with his crew for the first time since their battle against that thing from another universe, one that they’d only been able to beat using alien technology forged by a god to destroy another god, and yet, there was only one thing on his mind; Sunnie Funnies. Its sign mocked him in his mind; that cheesy smile of the Bipidri mascot, the unimaginably bright yellow of the walls, the distorted, terrible synth-pop music…
He sighed with relief, reminiscing. The memory of the only quasi-meat-like item anywhere this side of the planet letting salty grease flow on his tongue was so vivid in his mind, he was licking his teeth hoping it'd manifest. The fantasy was disturbed by a stone flying past his head, caused by the force of tectonic plates churning the core of the planet far below, the immense movement causing stray dust and rocks to fall around them. He heard a yelp from PAL behind him, who was quickly comforted by Stiletto.
He sighed. They had just saved the universe from a literal god-sent warrior, and all Boots wanted was a plate of eggs.
He and the others walked through Casinox, accompanied by blaring neon lights, gamblers swiping mindlessly away at screens, and endless jingles and beeps of people wasting money. He could overhear Democratus's councilmen arguing amongst themselves while the rest of them bumped shoulders with gambler after schmoozer alike, until finally filtering out towards the outskirts. He briefly looked upward to see the large poster advertising trips to Hephaestus that had been posted for at least a year by now.
Not doing that anytime soon, he thought. Maybe not until Rocket Coaster finishes construction. And that they make sure this universe even exists by then.
In his distraction, approaching the large blast doors ahead separating Casinox from the Tours, the sharp taps of Rho's boots advanced beside him, eventually outrunning him by a meter or so. Not even acknowledging him, she oh-so-casually pivoted rightward, gesturing towards the group. She made her way to the direction of heavy blast doors leading to the docking bays.
"Hey, Sunnie Funnies is that way," Boots gestured his head toward Tours, stopping in his tracks. "What gives?"
"I know," she replies, the doors automatically opening before her. "I have something I'd like to show you all first."
"Come on, don't we get some downtime? 'Let's get some breakfast', you remember that, five minutes ago? I thought it was pretty clear that the itinerary involved me sitting down and stuffing my face in peace."
"Oh, I wouldn't want to deprive you of that. I'm not crazy." She took keys from her pocket and thumbed through each one. "Besides, I think you'll all be pleasantly surprised."
"A surprise?" Boots interjects, looking back at the rest of the stopped crew. "What, like an ice cream social?"
He shouldn't have said that. Great going, Sylvester. Now he was excited, and he might never see ice cream ever again.
Rho smiled. "Not quite. It was much more expensive than that."
Boots turned to the rest of the crew, eyebrow raised.
"Don't see why we shouldn't at least go look," Stiletto shrugged. "I can wait to eat."
"…Fine, alright," he decided. Boots felt annoyed beyond belief, but he didn't want to test the only people willing to help him fight in a war almost certainly going to kill them all. So, he followed.
Rho did not acknowledge their footsteps behind her until they got to the elevators leading to the ships, in which she stood at the back of the elevator, facing them all.
"I hope you all like it," she nodded, looking out the window. She hit a button on the elevator, the rest of the crew looking at each other. The elevator whirred downwards, releasing a hiss, revealing the sight before them.
"Now what the hell is that?" Boots asked.
Instead of Rho's ship, they were greeted by a medium sized ship, looking like a small liner. It consisted of two floors, with windows on the second floor and only one on the lower. The front boasted massive glass window, giving the pilot and the upstairs room a wide view. Most puzzlingly, the sides had been graffitti'd— underneath colors of white, green, and yellow, text read "UNIVERSITY" accompanied by flurries of spraypaint. Other parts of the ship looked entirely replaced— massive sheets of metal, shiny and untouched, next to flaking and rusted plates of faded paint.
Rho walked up to the ship, smiled, and rapped her knuckles against the ship’s hull.
“This old thing?” she says, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. “This is our new ship."
Boots stared, dumbfounded.
"Looks pretty nice, good condition," Stiletto leans back, crossing her arms. "Did it use to be in the tramp trade?"
Boots perked up. "The what trade?"
"It doesn't mean what you think it means," Rho glared at Boots. She brought her gaze back to Stiletto, amicable. "I bought it off a university who previously used it for interplanetary transport for students across the galaxy. The last group that used it was a group of xenobiologists— they studied far-off planets' organisms, some of them even identified new species. Unfortunately, they all got killed by some kind of massive wasp native to the Wu-Chan system. They didn't want to use it after that, which is understandable, but meant I got it for a great deal."
"I really don't understand why you needed to get rid of the last one," Boots says. Rho turns to him with a raised brow.
"…You're joking, right?" Stiletto asks, cocking a brow.
"It got us through everything before! And it has sentimental value."
"Well, first of all, my old ship hasn't been sold yet," Rho clarified. "It's currently sitting in a temporary storage facility on Cordica. I've already got ship collectors trying to contact me to get their hands on it, so I might settle for one of them, only if we have to— it's worth has skyrocketing, since technically, it's a historical vehicle now."
"Historic? It's barely a few years old," Fatima asked.
"The value of them went exponentially up after the rest of them got destroyed on Sunder, so they're now in short supply, and associated with a major historical event," she sighed. "Not good to dwell, though— second, the last ship was a basic transport ship. It was only ever meant for short interplanetary trips, not an entire universe, and it could barely house me. Remember sleeping on the floor?"
"Yeah, me and Gramps. It was great!" he smiled. Rho's face became visibly either more disgusted, annoyed, or both, he couldn't tell. She continued.
"Third, we have no clue what the previous universe is going to even look like, and what kind of threats we would face. We have double the crew now that we had when I had met you. I'm sure most of them would not enjoy sleeping on the floor."
"We personally believe this is a magnificent ship, and quite practical!" Democratus chimes in. "Our sensors detect several innovative technologies on board, along with many facilities for our shared human crew." Paco hummed in agreement.
"Sounds spiffy, Doc," Stiletto nods. "How much did it cost?"
"Oh, almost everything we had up until this point," she replies, nonchalant.
"WHAT?" Boots shouts. "All of it?"
"What kind of value would our money have in a universe where it doesn't even exist?" Rho snapped, curling her lip at Boots. She took a deep breath, then looked back. "Plus, we have just enough left to bring over breakfast. Tell me your orders and I'll go get them."
She hit her fist against the door, assumedly on some button, as the door next to her flipped downwards into a staircase. The stairs seemed to invite the group to step forward onboard with open arms. Everyone around them either made some kind of sound of agreement or went up to Rho to start detailing what they wanted. Boots scoffed.
"You don't have a problem with this?" he asked Stiletto, walking past.
"Why would I? It's new and exciting. Those are a good combo," she smiled. "Get with the times, Sly."
He huffed, crossing his arms as she walked away. The sound of wheels turning trailed over to him, jumping with joy.
"Don't worry, Sly!" chirped PAL, wheeling around his ankles, "I'm sure it'll be as fun as hacky sack!"
"I thought I told you to stop calling me that," Sly chided.
"Sorry," the little beebot whined, trailing up to the staircase. His back axle bent and attempted to hop up the stairs, and with a little effort from his claws, he lifted himself up the first step. "I got it! I got it!"
After a moment, Stiletto strode onboard, quickly followed by Democratus, then, after carefully explaining his order, Paco.
"Well, even if you won't go in, I will," Fatima said from behind, the LifeCursor trailing towards the entrance. Boots furrowed his brow.
"Fine, I'll check it," he grumbled. He looked over to Rho, who already was clicking a pen. "Coffee, scrambled eggs, and no goiter sauce. Also, sausage. If they have any."
"Okay," she replied, not looking at him.
"Thanks," he said. Boots gave her a smile he was certain looked like a grimace, which she glanced at, then quickly walked away from. He turned away and stepped onto the ship, and was greeted by a small entry room.
Stiletto leaned on a nearby wall, grinning. "You've got to check this out," she smiles. "I call dibs on one of the big rooms."
"Wait, how many rooms are there?" Boots asked.
Stiletto giggled, not answering anything, and instead chose to start climbing a ladder on the easternmost wall. Next to it was an elevator, assumedly for someone with a wheelchair, but seemed like it'd be resigned to the fate of being a personal chariot to PAL and Democratus . She disappeared upward, assumedly toward her newly claimed bedroom. Boots decided to investigate further.
Turning the corner, he saw an open hallway with 3 doors presented itself to him, ending in the open cockpit he had seen outside. Each door was labeled succinctly: "PILOT'S QUARTERS", "DINING ROOM", "ELECTRICAL", all self-explanatory enough. He looked inside each room and, to no one's shock, they were accurate to the label. It's only on the journey back to the ladder he notices a door labeled "STORAGE", tucked out of view from the hallway and only visible from the ladder. Satisfied with this investigative work, he started his way up.
"Our sensors detected nothing of importance in that room," Democratus boomed, almost knocking Boots off, fumbling for the rungs.
"Klaz, don't scare me like that, Blue Marble," he groaned.
"Apologies, Mr. Bucelli. We are simply waiting until Dr Bowman arrives to explain how the elevators work in this ship."
He looked down, puzzled. There was a button, sure, but without limbs, Democratus couldn't hit it to open the doors.
"Maybe try putting the weight right in front of the elevator?" he asked. "Could be weight activated."
Democratus moved forward slightly, tilting downwards, and then maneuvering to peer its large satellites at him. "We can't exactly pilot further down than this without crushing one of our poles."
"Maybe talk to the Doc then," he replied, realizing this was absolutely not his problem. He continued climbing until he could get his footing on the top floor. Dusting himself off, he turned to view two large rooms, two smaller rooms right next to them, and lounge directly ahead. He started walking briskly over to investigate it, before turning quickly to see an open door leading to a bedroom. Inside, Paco and Stiletto sat together.
"Heya Boots," Stiletto called out. "Nice, isn't it?"
He shuffled forward just enough to get a view inside. His eyebrows raised— the space was large enough to support a desk, closet, and a bed mushed against each wall. A window showed the space outside, which he knew would be beautiful when they were actually in flight.
"There's one just like it, across the hallway," she notes. "Looks like someone was having a party right before they died. It's very you."
"That's nice," Boots says through gritted teeth.
Before he gave Stiletto the satisfaction of knowing her opinion mattered to him, he walked past and into the open lounge space, which he gawked at for at least a minute. There's a boom box, two game tables, a TV with a console, and a wall-garden thingy he had never seen outside the one or two greenhouses he'd been to in his entire life. Fatima floated around the space, especially looking at the plant-wall.
"This seems like a nice place," Fatima comments.
"Yeah," he smiles. "Maybe this'll be fun. I get to sleep in a lot more places now."
Fatima tilted in such a way that even without seeing her face, he knew the face she was making.
"Kids, I'm back!" Rho calls from downstairs. Boots almost jumped down the hall and shuffled down the ladder with quick thuds.
"So, what do you think?" Rho says, smiling, as she puts the bags of food on the table, ruffling through them. Rho passes Stiletto something veggie-looking thing and a small dessert, Boots an omelette with strips of meat, and a salad for herself. She then passes Paco a massive looking box, which he opens with large, fumbling fingers. The box released an all-too-familiar stench, revealing a large yellow tendril inside.
"You like Brebulan?" Boots gagged.
"Yes," Paco replies. "Nothing better anywhere else."
"Seriously?" Boots asks.
"Hey, you kids be nice. I do not want to hear arguing. This might be the last real food you ever have," Rho shuns.
"Whaddya mean?" Boots asked, mouth full.
"I've got enough supplies of oxygen, water, and prepared meals in storage to last us 6 months," she replies. "Unless you, or someone kind enough to make it for you, figure out how to cook, you will probably just be eating the same 5 or so things."
Klaz, Boots didn't think of that. This would be his last meal in his own universe. Oh well, he was hungry, so that wouldn't stop him.
"When we're all done, we'll have to arrange rooms," Rho said. "You'll need to decide who you want to bunk with—"
"I called dibs on the right large room, Dr. Bowman, upstairs," Stiletto said. "And I wanna room with Paco."
"What?" Boots asked, incredulous.
"That's fine by me," she nods. "I'd like to have the pilot's room on the first floor, assuming I will be the pilot for the majority of our search. PAL, would you be okay with having the robot maintenance room as your room?"
"Works for me, Dr. Bowman!" PAL hops.
"I think that room would also be best suited to Democratus," she states. "The room is electromagnetically shielded from the rest of the ship, so it should be the least disruptive to both of your daily operations."
"We're perfectly content with that arrangement," they replied.
"Then it's settled," she said. "We can figure out the night watch schedule later."
Boots stuffed his face to the point where he couldn't speak. "Is that really necessary?" is what he wanted to say, but it came out more like "Ishhh tha reawlay nehehary?"
"Yes," she said, stern. "I don't know if you understand how dangerous this is. Entering the universe Chaos rules over, when we're clearly working for the Vyre? They definitely noticed that their soldier didn't come back unscathed."
Boots looked at his plate, not answering. She was right, but he didn't want to admit it.
"Alright, ship's taking off tomorrow. Feel free to make it yours. Bring in whatever items you'd like before tomorrow morning."
One by one, everyone but Rho had left the room after eating. Boots idly scraped smudges on his plate, head in his hand.
This was really it. They were on a mission to save their entire universe from an untimely death, or even to save its existence. He sighed, closing his eyes.
"Hey," Rho said, sitting next to him. "You doing okay?"
Boots squinted through his eyelashes to look at her.
"I'm not upset with you. I'm just a little irritated. You're going to have to lead them, us, while we make our way through this universe. But you're not being a great leader to them."
Boots closes his eyes again, shifting his head downwards.
"They need someone they can rely on. Someone who's not going to bicker at them over little things, someone who gets things done. And I have faith you can do that. But you've got to work on it."
"I am," he mumbled.
"You won't even look me in the eye, you know you're lying," she said, leaning closer.
"I'm not!" he slams his fist on the table. "This is the thing, the thing that it feels like I was finally meant to do. I've spent my life meandering around anything of purpose, anything of real pursuit— jobs, girls… and they fail at every turn. And now, finally, I can make a real difference in this world."
He opens his eyes to see Rho smiling wide with utter delight.
"Good," she says. "Keep with that."
She stands up, scoots her seat in, and walks away. "Goodnight, Boots. I'll be here if you need me."
The door shuts behind her with a click that echoes down the hall. He rubbed his face with both hands.
I have to do this.
Boots opens the door to his new room, which was the unclaimed larger room across from Stiletto. A high bed, next to a lower set one, were arranged in the corner across from a small TV. Some clothes were still strewn across the floor, mainly sports shirts and university logos he had never seen before. It reminded him of the apartment he and his mom lived in, shortly after he got PAL. If only it had a couch, but Klaz knew he was not moving that in here. Fatima had already found herself a spot on a nearby dresser, the light dimmed to an almost imperceptible glow.
He flopped down onto his bed and gazed out the window, as the glare of flames from exhausts reflected their light on the docking bay elevator. Tomorrow, he would be in a completely different universe. Everything would be different, he couldn't expect any degree of sameness of what he knew now. There would be nothing to go back on, only what he trusted Rho to have packed.
It was as terrifying as it was freeing.
He closed his eyes, turning under blankets, considering what he'd bring instead. His photograph from his office days, his Cordicom, the games he'd collected on this journey to get here… and definitely Split. He hadn't listened to that album in forever. Maybe he would in the time it'd take to catch up.
He let himself wander off into thoughts of the universe ahead.