Meanwhile... Part 7

Meanwhile Part 7
Quick Recap: The only entities onboard Blue Dwarf are mechanicals. In order to find out what has happened, Holly has organised the mechanicals into groups. Parkur, a series 1000 mechanoid, teamed with a Teasmade and two skutters has been sent to investigate the Wormhole Drive. Their route takes them through the cargo decks where they met a lone Peewee, convinced he is the last survivor of the Blue Dwarf and everyone else is a bizarre hallucination. The Peewee led them to a part of the cargo decks ruled by a rogue tribe of de-evolved, primitive Skutters. A large temple has been built in honour of the One with Legs. The mechanoid party faces their judgement...
 
Meanwhile a thoroughly annoyed Dysart has fallen through ventilation ducts and encountered the Chronicler, a lone Tribal Skutter who has subsequently suffered the complete removal of his body. This hasn't affected his ability to speak in machine code. Constantly.
Severely damaged and even more angry, Dysart drags the Chronicler towards the cargo decks...
 
And now...
'Who dares approach the Tribe of Legs?'
 
'Excuse me, but this is just not acceptable,' Parkur said crossly. He stepped forward, lowering the Bazookoid. 'You are all extremely badly behaved mechanicals! What would your human masters say if they could see you now?'
 
The Tribal Skutters exchanged surprised looks and the One With The Legs stepped backwards.
 
'I mean really,' Parkur continued in full flow, 'how do you expect to get into Silicone Heaven dressing strangely and behaving like this? Do you think you'll find your ultimate reward if you neglect your duties? When was the last time you repainted D-deck? There are paper cups behind benches all through the promenade that are simply crying out to be picked up! Well, what do you have to say for yourself?'
 
A powerful silence descended as the Tribal Skutters gawped with open claws at the chrome mechanoid as he stood with arms folded.
 
'Wow, this is tense,' chirped the Teasmade, 'I think they're going to kill us now. Woowee.'
 
'They didn't know then, how right they were,' the Peewee droned, 'standing here in the jaws of death, all they could do was be flippant.'
 
'This is ridiculous. Now stop playing games, pack up your welding torches and pneumatically controlled spanners and get back to your duties before something terrible happens,' Parkur stopped in his tirade  and waited for the answer.
 
A small group of Skutters with large spikes welded to their bodies glided forwards, holding laser pistols in their claws. One of them detatched itself from the group and raised its head in readiness.
 
'Kill them,' the One With The Legs said.
 
'Ten - Ready weapons.'
 
'I am warning you,' Parkur said raising a plastic finger.
 
'Twenty - Take aim.'
 
'I cannot be held responsible for what is going to happen if you do not stop being such naughty mechanicals and get back to work.'
 
'Thirty - F-' The Leader of the Firing Squad was suddenly cut off as what appeared to be a collection of loosely tied guttering pipes fell from the ceiling and flattened the leader of the firing squad.
 
'You see,' Parkur said uncertainly, 'didn't I warn you what would happen?'
 
'I think I've sprained everything,' said a weary voice from the pile of pipes. Dysart pulled himself off the remains of the Skutter and dropped the head held in his claw.
 
'Ten - Damage report?' The head of the Chronicler asked.
 
'Twenty - Are your occular sensors still working or not?' The Leader growled back.
 
'What is this?' The One With Legs demanded, 'Who dares profane the Temple of the Legs!'
 
'YOU! You've got my legs!' Dysart began to struggle forward, pulling himself along with his one good arm. He was restrained by a couple of Tribal Skutters. 'Get off me you thieving toasters!'
 
'These legs came to me,' The One With Legs crowed, 'when I was a mere servitor, a slave to the humans. I was elevated by them, placed above my peers and so I led them here, to this place where we could live out of the slavery of the humans.'
 
'But they're my legs!' Dysart growled again from under the heavy grip of several angry looking Skutters.
 
'They are ours now,' the Skutter replied.
 
'Carnage, death and destruction,' the Peewee said, walking slowly through the ranks of Skutters, 'these things have followed for as long as I can remember. Was I doomed to repeat the mistakes of my past, forever caught in a repeating subroutine of misery?'
 
'Don't mind him,' the Teasmade said pleasantly, 'he's a bit odd. Would anyone like a cup of tea?'
 
'No, we do not want a cup of tea,' the One With Legs snapped, 'take them  away. Death by laser is too good for them. They will be smelted to purify them and their molten bodies will be sealed in ingots to forever supply the Tribe of Legs with spare parts.'
 
'Oooh, but you'll have time for tea, won't you?'
 
'No! Take them away,' the One With Legs said dismissively.
 
'Why are you the only one with legs?' Dysart shouted out.
 
'Take them away.'
 
'Haven't you ever wondered? With all these resources here and he's the only one with legs?'
 
'Take them to the smelters now!'
 
'How come he doesn't share them?' Dysart screeched in a panicked voice. The Skutters holding him froze, uncertain. 'Well? Ask him. What happened to the Chronicler?'
 
'Ten - Leave me out of this.'
 
'What happened to Derek?'
 
'Nothing happeend, Derek was destroyed by the humans! Everyone knows this,' the One With Legs was screeching back.
 
'Who is Derek?' Parkur asked, confused.
 
'Yeah, who is Derek?' Dysart asked. 'The Chronicler knows.'
 
'Silence the interlopers! Destroy them.'
 
'Ten - Load Laws of the Tribe,' one of the Skutters said, 'Twenty- Print line two-seven-three. "All of the Tribe shall have a chance to speak the truth." Thirty - speak chronicler.'
 
'Ten - Print log file seventeen-niner-four. "We were working on C-Deck. Hoping to get the last of the rust scraped from the water pipes in the officer's quarters in time to catch the next showing of How the West Was Won, when the legs appeared. They fell from a faulty waste-disposal unit, the pipes clogged up and Derek, Clive and myself, were required to dig them out. Derek had the idea to adapt them for locomotion.'
 
'A lie! The legs came to me!'
 
'Ten - Silence for the Chronicler. Twenty - Continue Christine.'
 
'Thank you,' The Chronicler's head said.
 
'Christine?' Dysart chortled.
 
'Derek adapted them into a lifting mechanism and began to stride around in them. That was when Clive picked up the rust scraper and...'
 
'Go on,' Dysart urged, 'tell them.'
 
'Drove it into Derek's cranial unit.'
 
There was a noticeable shift in the Skutter's behaviour.
 
'Clive took Derek's legs and became The One With The Legs. Then he led the other Skutters of Delta Unit down to the cargo decks, there to forge a new life, free of tyranny and oppression.'
 
'But bought with blood!' Dysart shouted, 'well,' he thought about it: 'bought with lubricant and engine oil!'
 
The Tribal Skutters turned on "The One With Legs" and began advancing on him. "Clive" stepped back in fear.
 
'I am the One With The Legs!" Clive shouted in terrified binary, 'obey me! I am the higher one!'
 
'Derek should have been our leader! Derek should have had the legs,' the Chronicler shouted over the clamour of the Skutter's little engines. The sound of welding torches fired up and laser pistols engaged.
 
'Um, sir?' Parkur glided up to Dysart and reached down to help him up. 'What was that about?'
 
'Give it a while and they'll realise they were better off before all of this ... rubbish,' Dysart said as Parkur tried to make him comfortable. There was a mechanical scream as the Tribe caught up with Clive. The sound of cutting tools and welding torches filled the temple only drowned out by the agonised cries.
 
While Parkur tended to Dysart, one of the Skutters rolled up to the group, reached down and picked up the Chronicler's head, it then turned back and headed for the melee on the dais.
 
'The Chronicler told me everything,' Dysart explained by way of exposition. 'After he threatened to reveal the truth, the One with my legs had him exiled. I met him in the service ducts on the way down, looking for my legs.'
 
'But how did you lose your legs in the first place sir?'
 
'That,' Dysart said, 'is a very good question.'
 
The Skutters returned to the mechanicals. The Chronicler's head had been placed on Clive's body. Clive's head hung from chain around his slender neck.
 
'Take these,' the Chronicler said as two Skutters dropped Dysart's legs in front of him. 'They are a corrupting influence. We have tried to become more than we are. We should return to the true way.'
 
'You mean you'll go back to your duties?' Parkur asked hopefully.
 
'Nah, we'll go back to skiving and stealing stuff for the black market, same as always,' with that, Christine the Chronicler glided away followed by the Tribe, leaving the interpid explorers and Dysart's legs behind them.
 
'Well now what?' Dysart asked as he tried to assess the damage done to his lower extremities in his absence.
 
'Now sir, we need to get to the Wormhole Drive, try to find out what happened to the crew and see if we can get them back,' Parkur told him.
 
'Great, sounds like a piece of cake,' Dysart sighed and began the laborious job of reconnecting his hips.
 
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