CeCe suggested Bells Across the River meet at an old farmhouse east of Journey City, on Taizhil side of the lake. It was a supply depot during the 5-year war but had abandoned after a missile assault. The manufactured tunnel underneath the farm survived the war mostly intact and had been home to smuggler holes off and on since. The old wander expected Bells to change her tune at that suggestion of meeting at a bombed out old farm in the middle of nowhere, but she hadn’t hesitated and only expressed a need of transport. She wasn’t as much city folk as he thought. That raised his estimation of her but didn’t make him feel any more relaxed.
CeCe wasn’t happy about this meeting. He had intentionally avoided making any extra contact with the woman he found to look into his exo-skeleton. He had meticulously carved out a persona and life for himself and Valentine. His interest in the past would on occasion overcome the inertia of his fear of it. His memories came in fragmented bits. He was also concerned he might have piqued Bells Across the Rivers’s interests too much; bad things happen when scientist’s interests get piqued. The reaction of those eggheads to the data Meryll found firmed up that particular belief. He thought you would think it was their data the way they acted like it was owed to them. Scientists always put him on edge. Bells Across the River insistence to meet in person wasn't helping his mood.
CeCe got to the farm early to give the place another once over before meeting. The ground rolled unnaturally, the only remaining signs of the bombardment. Despite the farmhouse looking burnt out the building's frame remained intact. The floor that remained creaked under his heavy steps. He heard Valentine as she rejoined him. Hearing her approach was for his benefit, he was still smoothing over the last batch of complaints about “startling” folks.
CeCe rotated the prosthetic left arm nervously. Let Them Eat Cake convinced him to paint his exo-armor Cherenkov blue to match the false arm. The kid convinced him it was a perfect match, at a glance.
The hum of hover engines preceded Bells Across the River's arrival and interrupted his brooding. He nodded to her. “Miss Bells Across the River. Hope your ride out was safe?”
“CeCe, Please, call me Bells.”
“Right. Bells.”
She smiled. “Thank you. I had an interesting chat with the young who drove me over. You made quite the impression on him at the festival.”
“Well, you know how kids are, they tend to exaggerate.”
“Oh, certainly. I figured there was no way you would have bought alcohol for a group of minors?”
“Is that what he said?”
“It is.”
“Well, I’ll be sure to talk to him later about that, but for now, how about the exo-armor?”
“Hmm, make sure you do, sir. Yes, the exo-armor. I appreciate you providing the left armor for research. I found one or two oddities about the schematic, and it answered questions I had. The long term wear had me a bit concerned but the internals are in good condition, better than I expected, and consistent with what’s in the specification. The armed casing is worn to the point the harder angles and lines that are common in ERI aesthetics were all but removed. It gives it quite the unique look. It doesn’t mirror any of the popular manufacturers’ designs in the region, but it does scream not ERI…”
“Miss Bells. Sorry, but the aesthetics aren’t what I’m interested in.” CeCe didn't like that she'd emphasized her thoughts with a once over at least twice before he'd cut in.
“Bells,” she emphasized, “I thought the information might be helpful for you to scavenge more parts of the exo-skeleton.” she added after a too-long pause. “The prototype arm was difficult to come by, I’d imagine?”
CeCe folded his arms in front of him. “Bells, that there is fishing with a bad line. Subtlety isn’t your thing, is it?”
“It’s a fascination. There is no data transfer between the appendages, the electronic components seem to be limited to basic function of integrating components, no central computer, and lacks sensors for collecting sensory data of any kind. At first, I assumed you hadn’t given me the full schematic.”
“Well, that’s…”
“However, it’s clear that it wasn’t made for any known native sapient species. It doesn’t provide reinforcement or enhancement to a skeletal structure like power armor. It seems to follow the more literal definition of an exoskeleton and has more in common with a sea ship or space vessel than traditional exo-armor. What really captured my imagination was the use of bulkheads in the interior of the armor.”
“Bells…”
She didn’t miss a beat. “But that is the exo-armor you're in. Well, with the exception of the prosthetic, it doesn't match well I'm afraid. I'm interested to know what alien species you are. It would help to better understand the…”
His voice pitched down, the only sign of his increasing wariness and agitation. “I’m not an alien.”
That brought her up short, either from his tone or his answer. “...design… Oh. That was rude of me. I'm so sorry.”
“Not necessary. I am what I am but a scientist I am not. I am a form of sea life. Doubt that gives you little satisfaction. I tracked you down so you can figure it out from what I can give you.” His voice grew in heat. “What I need you to understand is that I’m taking a risk here. You might be ready to jump down this rabbit hole but if you babble on to the wrong people it could get you in trouble and me worse.”
Valentine hugged the much larger CeCe’s leg and knocked twice on his leg plating. He responded by resting a massive hand on her shoulder. His intimidating size and her unsettling appearance seem to diminish.
CeCe’s tone softens. “Yeah, well, it has been Valentine's and my secret for a long time, close to seventy years, and for good reason. There is, let's say, appreciable risk. No, there is considerable risk. As you pointed out earlier, I’m not a species that exists in any book or database. ERI found me, took me, and poked and prodded me in a lab. What else I’ve found is that ERI has me patented and registered as stolen.”
Bells brow wrinkled. “That is inexcusably unethical. I will be as careful as possible. There are more questions I’ll need to have answered before I can look into it further.”
CeCe lets go of Valentine and removes something from a compartment in his exo-armor and hands it to Bells.
Bells looked over the unlabeled data stick. “This is…?”
“Research on Empathic Networking. Specifically, Coral Colony 001. More answers than I’ll ever be able to give you.”
“Coral Colony. C.C.”
“Got it in one. The roads calling, we’ve been in one spot for too long. The kid will give you a ride back.”
“Oh, I thought you might ask for the arm, so I brought it on the transport.” She glanced at the prosthetic. “I think you might need it more than I do.”
“Missing it wasn’t all bad. When I filled in for you at Giftmas, being down an arm gave my costume a nice touch.”
Bells got a thoughtful look, and her lips tightened, “Of course. It was nice meeting you CeCe, Valentine.”
CeCe replied. “Same to you, Bells. He went, more than happy to collect the missing arm.
Valentine struck a pose, stiff legged, left elbow out and wrist on hips, while she waved dramatically with her right hand—adorably uncanny. The drone had a way of using her body language to more than make up for limited facial expression and lack of speech. She followed CeCe but paused to put a comforting hand over Bells’s.
Bells nodded a quiet thanks. She put her other hand on top of Valentines. She seemed to surprise the both of them by hugging the diminutive murder bot.
Unnoticed to Bells, there was a shift of body weight as Valentine began to evade, buying time to evaluate and determine the threat assessment. The drone adjusted quickly, accepting the hug, and returning it.