Well looks like they didn't head back. Dr. Flztril insisted that her 'transient respiratory episodes' were due to a faulty atmospheric exchange coupling. Apparently those air hoses dont work too well clogged with neck fat. Whatever. Wouldn't be the first time Dr. Ilnm had to escort a helpless Surveyor.

Dr. Flztril took off her helmet, letting her blubbery neck flop free from the confining plastic fishbowl. A full toxi-suit isn't strictly necessary to survive The Great Eastern Debris Heap, the air is breathable, for the most part, and so long as they stick to the route, that shouldn't change too much.

Huh. Looks like Dr. Flztril was right, with that awful helmet off, she actually managed to go more than a few steps without collapsing into a sputtering wreck! She's still a lumbering blubbery mess, barely able to walk only through sheer strength of stubborn will, but it's an improvement. At least they're going somewhere low-risk.

Or so they thought, up until Dr. Flztril tripped on a rusty cellphone and alerted a couple of security robots with the sound of her ass hitting the ground. The robots pointed something vaguely gunlike at Dr. Ilnm, and she dove for cover behind Dr. Flztril's gut.

Yup, this is it, Dr. Flztril thought, at least I get to die in the field. She closed her eyes and counted to ten, as most do. Somewhere around eight, she noticed something, a shocking lack of plasmafire. She was definitely still alive, but, why? She opened her eyes and saw the robots scurrying around trying to flank Dr. Ilnm hiding behing her flanks, not even trying to acknowledge her presence. Huh. She closed her eyes again and resumed counting.

Dr. Ilnm knew that her pneumatic speargun thing would only confuse and enrage this brand of robot, so she yanked Dr. Flztril's fancy rifle thing out of her flabby paw, promising not to break it. She shouldered the, as Dr. Flztril grunted, gauss rifle, holding it at an angle to compensate for her helmet. She steadied it on Dr. Flztril's belly and pulled the trigger, pulverizing one of the robot's plastic entrails a charged ferromagnetic slug. This prompted its friend to explode, presumably out of grief.

Phew. You can open your eyes now, Wyntrmn, Dr. Ilnm said. This is one heck of a home-made science gun! Uh... sorry for using you as cover.

Dr. Flztril grunted. She hated how well she could hide a fully-grown foxwoman behind her bloated bulk. Don't worry about it. And... thanks. For saving my life... and, uh, in advance. For helping me back up. Please?

...

Sigh.

--

=3

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