She knew for a fact that she wouldn't have been able to get them working so quickly. Those with the legs that bent backward would always be more difficult.
"Where's that kid with the fucking paint?" Tinker asked, looked around, and waved the young man toward them. He carried a can of the paint he'd whipped up and held it out for approval. It did have the greasy, green look the other Knights had, she had to admit.
"Watch it with the joints," Mini warned him. "I don't want to have to clean them out before I can move properly again."
Jessica13 could hear the Knights laugh at a bulletfoot being bossed around by an AI, but she didn't laugh. Not too long before, she had been the one doing that kind of job.
While that was a recent enough memory to still be valid, it also felt like an age had passed since them.
Armstrong7 stepped through the door of his office. He seemed tired and carried a jug she had seen in his office before. He put considerable work into it and because having alcoholic drinks in Sanctuary was frowned upon, he usually kept it secret.
She often wondered how much of a secret it actually was since she knew about it, but it wasn't like the admins would punish their head of security for making alcohol in his spare time.
"They're discussing it, but I feel hopeful," the CO declared. "And it might be a little premature but I thought we could share a drink. A toast for the exchange, sure, but also to drink in the presence of old comrades."
"Are you still making that shit from the barley cakes?" Tinker asked. He withdrew a handful of aluminum cups from his coat and handed them to the Knights and any other takers. None of the bulletfoots or mech pilots from Sanctuary responded. They still looked less than trusting of the Outsiders.
"It's the best in the world and you know it," Armstrong7 replied and poured from the jug into the cups. Jessica13 took one for herself, held it while the milky-white liquid was poured, and frowned at it a little dubiously before she took a sip.
It burned like battery acid and the moment it was clear of her mouth, she coughed and wheezed from the heat of it.
"You know it's working when it makes you cough like that, little one." Tinker laughed, as did the other Knights as they drank.
"You know she needs a drink when she's been working with you, Tink," Taylor said, still laughing and now a little red in the face. "But her work on the mechs is better than yours, so maybe you need some too."
"Bah," Tinker spluttered and shook his head. "I'm a fucking genius and you damn better know it. You can always tell who's the genius because they're the ones getting laughed at. Remember that, Jessie."
“But the fact that some geniuses were laughed at does not imply that all who are laughed at are geniuses. They laughed at Columbus, they laughed at Fulton, and they laughed at the Wright brothers," Armstrong7 interjected and sounded more serious than before. "But they also laughed at Bozo the Clown. A Prophet Sagan classic, and definitely one of my favorites."
"The hell with your Sagan quotes," Tinker grumbled and swirled the drink in his hand. "No one knows who the fuck Bozo the Clown is anymore, so how do we know he wasn't a genius too? But I guess she might be a genius in the making, no mistake."
"The clown part in it does give it away," the CO pointed out. "And yes, she is. Even if she did decide to take off on her own."
And there it was—the hard edge to his tone that betrayed his real feelings about her escape. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if she’d arrived without the protection of the Knights, the reception would have been exactly what she’d dreaded.
"Don't you punish her too harshly for that, Armstrong7," Tinker replied in a warning tone. "You remember how her father was, which means it’s in her blood to be curious and adventurous."
The man nodded. "Indeed. But he at least had the benefit of being able to run away with you."
"Wait—what?" Jessica13 asked and fixed her attention on the two men. "Did both of you know my father?"
Tinker took a long sip and swallowed before he replied. "Aye, little one. The man was a nutter to start with, but he had a mind for metal, exactly like you, and when they threatened to take that away from him, he ran. I never knew he had left a child behind until after, though, and never understood why he would leave a tiny one like that. It broke his heart every time he thought of it and you."
"Conflict of duty, perhaps, to a higher cause over his duty to the bunker and his daughter," Armstrong7 said and shook his head regretfully. "He grew disillusioned with the bunker but maybe he sacrificed his relationship with you because he knew that Outside is no place for a tiny child. Hell, I could tell you that. Where is he, anyway?"
She pushed back the protest that clamored to be heard, driven by indignation and anger. For her entire life, she’d been told her father had perished in a pirate attack. This seemed the greatest affront of all. It was one thing to lie in a misguided attempt to protect the structure they rigorously enforced in the belief that it was for Sanctuary’s protection. But to lie to a child and have her believe her father was dead when he might well be alive and out there somewhere?
Caution forced her to remain silent, however. She knew that if she so much as voiced a single word, she’d be unable to stop the inevitable tirade. It served her purpose to not confront Amstrong7. She needed to remain calm until they had what they needed and could leave. Common sense told her Tinker
