Moonlight And Machinery

Halo moves like a shadow, hugging the edges of buildings and keeping clear of the lantern glow where Ossamaris guards pace. She holds her breath, every step sounding too loud in her own ears. 
          Two voices drift from around the corner, low and tired. As they near, the lantern light grows brighter, the guards’ shadows stretching long across the wall. Halo flattens herself against the stone, heart pounding. 
          “…quiet tonight, huh?” one mutters. 
          “Too quiet,” the other answers, boots scuffing as they turn. 
          The moment they round the corner, Halo darts forward, sprinting across the open stretch. 
          The tall iron gate looms ahead, its black bars catching the moonlight. She rushes to it and tugs at the handle. It rattles in her grip but refuses to budge. A heavy lock dangles there, as if taunting her. 
          The guards’ footsteps echo faintly from around the corner, drawing closer. Halo glances up at the bars stretching high overhead, their sharp tips silhouetted against the night sky. She grips the cold iron and begins to climb. Rust has eaten through in places, leaving the metal rough and abrasive against her palms as she pulls herself higher. One boot slips, striking the gate with a metallic clang. 
          The sound cuts through the silence. 
          Lantern light shifts behind her, and a voice whispers, “What was that?” 
          Halo presses herself flat against the iron, holding her breath. The guards pause, listening. After a long moment, one grumbles, “Probably just the wind,” and their steps drift away again. 
          Only then does she climb the rest of the way, swinging a leg over the top. The iron tips snag at the fabric of her clothes as she straddles the gate, then she lowers herself carefully down the far side. Her boots hit the ground with a soft thud. She steadies herself and slips back into the shadows before the guards can circle back. 
          At the drawbridge she halts. “Oh… right,” she mutters under her breath. “I forgot about this part.” 
          She goes around the side of the stone wall and steps down a narrow side path toward the water. The canal glimmers under the moonlight. A row of small boats knock softly against the dock. She crouches beside the nearest one and tugs at the rope tying it to the post. It resists, knotted tight, before finally coming loose. She freezes, glancing over her shoulder. No shouts. No alarms. Only the steady lap of water against the dock. 
          She steps into the boat. The wood rocks beneath her, but steadies as she grips the oars. Each pull sends ripples spreading across the canal, the splash of water sounding far too loud in the silence. 
          The current tugs at the little boat, pulling it in directions she doesn’t want to go, and she fights to keep her strokes even. Lantern light wavers behind her, and every creak of the wood makes her flinch, certain the guards will hear. The crossing feels endless, until at last the far bank rises out of the dark. 
          On the shore she leaps onto the sand, her boots sinking into the wet ground. With a grunt, she drags the boat up the bank until its safe from drifting away. 
          She makes her way up the hill and into the meadow, where the grass stretches in a wide, rippling expanse. Every blade sways in the night breeze, shifting like waves beneath the moonlight. Crickets chirp in the distance, their song steady and low, the only sound beyond the quiet lap of the tide below. 
          Halo’s eyes flick to the tree line at the far edge of the meadow, seeing something shift. An orange Skelloid lumbers through the trees, branches snapping against its massive shoulders. It doesn’t seem to notice her, its head swivels slowly, hollow sockets scanning the dark. She presses lower into the grass, willing her breath to quiet. For a long moment, the world narrows to nothing but the sound of its heavy, uneven steps. 
          Halo slowly moves through the grass until she reaches the area where the half-buried android lies, brushing away clumps of dirt and brittle leaves until the chest plate and arm glint faintly. “What do I do now?” She whispers to Rubble. 
          “If you can line me up with the parts, I’ll do the rest.” 
          Halo drags the heavy upper body of the fallen android across the ground onto her lap. Carefully, she lifts Rubble out of the backpack and positions him against the pieces, aligning seams as best she can. 
          A sudden crack of sparks flare from his right fingertips, and Halo jerks back with a gasp. 
          “Warn me next time!” 
          “Sorry,” he whispers. 
          Halo presses the components together. Rubble channels the current again. She bites her lip, steadying her grip even as the heat pricks her palms. 
          Sparks hiss and flare as Rubble’s fingertips skim the jagged seams, welding the salvaged pieces to his own frame. Halo squints against the bursts of light. Bit by bit, the foreign parts melt onto him. Angular plating and wires fuse with his own, though thin gaps remain where the fit isn’t perfect. His left arm hangs crooked, the joints unresponsive. 
          “It’ll take some time for the circuitry to bond,” he says. “For now, this arm’s just dead weight.” 
          “Dead weight or not,” she says gently, “you’re looking a lot more like yourself.” 
          She studies him for a moment, he’s patched together like a puzzle missing pieces, but more whole than he was before. 
          Halo looks at her backpack and back at him. 
          “Uh, Rubble…” 
          “Yes?” he asks, still testing the seams along his new chest plate. 
          “You’re too big for the backpack now.” 
          He turns his head toward the flimsy pack, its seams stretched and straps fraying. “Oh, I guess I am,” he says quietly. 
          Halo rubs the back of her neck, eyes darting from him to the walls of Ossamaris looming in the distance. “How can I hide you?” 
          There’s a pause. Then, flatly, he offers, “I could play dead.” 
          Halo blinks, then lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah, sure. Because nobody would notice the glowing eyes.” 
          His voice glitches faintly with amusement. “I can dim them.” 
          The orange Skelloid in the distance halts mid-lurch. Its hollow sockets lock on Rubble’s faint blue glow. 
          “Halo,” Rubble warns, voice tight. “That Skelloid is looking right at me.” 
          “We gotta get out of here.” She scrambles to her feet, but the weight of Rubble’s new form drags her forward, falling back on to her knees. 
          “You’re too heavy!” She panics. 
          The Skelloid lets out a guttural growl, then barrels toward them. 
          Halo grits her teeth, forces herself upright, and shifts Rubble higher against her chest so his weight presses closer to her center of gravity. Her legs wobble, steps short and uneven, but she pushes forward. 
          “Drop me and run!” Rubble urges. “You can’t outrun it like this!” 
         “I can’t do that!” she snaps, voice cracking under the strain. 
          The Skelloid closes the gap in a few thunderous strides. It slashes through the air, swiping its long claw like fingers at her as she ducks behind a tree. It splinters into a thousand pieces as the Skelloid makes impact. The debris scatters over Halo’s shoulders. 
          She stumbles onward, clutching Rubble tight, but the beast is already upon them. Both of its massive hands closing in on both sides, trapping her in a cage of bone and slime. 
          Halo screams. 
          Then Rubble’s right arm arcs over her. Sparks flare, a flash of searing light erupts, blinding her. The Skelloid howls, stumbling back, its hands melted and steaming, it’s disfigured fingers warped into stumps. 
          “Halo, move!” Rubble cries. 
          She doesn’t hesitate. She bolts downhill, Rubble clutching to her chest, the Skelloid’s distorted howls echoing behind them. 
          “What was that?!” she gasps, breath ragged. 
          “I tried to use my welding torch,” Rubble stammers. “It’s all I could think of.” 
          “That wasn’t welding!” she replies incredulously. 
          “I don’t know what happened!” he says, just as surprised as she is. 
          Halo stumbles onto the shore, her legs buckling as she drops to her knees in the wet sand. She lowers Rubble carefully onto his back, his weight sinking slightly into it. 
          “I can’t go back to Ossamaris, Halo.” His voice is steady, but she hears the sadness beneath it, thinly veiled. “We can’t risk that.” 
          “Then what do we do?” 
          He hesitates, “I’m not sure.” 
          Halo looks up, scanning the jagged rocks. In the distance, the water surges against a cliffside, foaming around a narrow opening. 
          “How do you feel about caves?” She glances down at Rubble, a smirk tugging at her lips despite the exhaustion. 
          The moonlight sparkles off the ocean’s surface. Halo’s footprints trail behind her in the wet sand, a wavering line that leads straight to the jagged mountainside. She hauls Rubble forward, each step dragging with effort until she reaches the shadow of the cliff. 
          A narrow opening carved into the rock widens into a small cave, the tide rushing and retreating just below. Halo braces herself, muscles aching, and manages to lug Rubble onto a flat stone high above the spray. 
          “Will you be okay here for a little while?” she asks, her voice soft with worry. 
          His glowing eyes lift to meet hers. “I’ll be just fine, Halo. It won’t stay like this for long,” he reassures her, though the faint warble in his tone betrays how fragile he still is.
         She leans back, rubbing her sore arms. “We have got to find you some legs.” A weary laugh slips from her lips. She flashes him a small smile. “I’ll visit you tomorrow night, okay?” 
          Rubble’s voice lowers, warm in its mechanical hum. “I look forward to it.”