85
In the Workshop, Milo was elbow-deep in wires. So many wires. More wires than any of his other golems had had.
He guessed this was something to do with its remote capacity.
He’d learned a little about it from one of the ranting dwarves who was complaining about the strength of the signals throughout the fortress. His golem had a remote capacity, and he was annoyed that in some part of the fortress, it couldn’t get signal.
He was proposing adding something he called Signal Boosters through the structure, but was getting some push-back from other dwarves who considered the problem none of their business.
From that little interaction, Milo learned that there was a communication network through the fortress. And he’d begun to consider if that network could be used by his other golems, too.
If, for example, Click could send recordings remotely, then they could watch things happening in real time instead of waiting for the spider golems to return with their crystals.
Also, could they use some form of communication among themselves?
Tania didn’t seem to know.
The Prime wasn’t helpful.
And Fed was offline.
So, while assembling the new golem, he spent time trying to understand what he was assembling a bit more. Treating it more like a clock repair job than an assembly job. He wrote notes and scribbled theories to chase up on.
All while struggling to maintain his sanity while connecting countless wires.
“Say ah.”
He opened his mouth automatically as Selma shoved a sandwich in his face. Biting, he started chewing while not moving his eyes from the wire he was threading through a gap in the frame.
“Thanks,” he said around the mouthful.
“You’re welcome,” Selma hummed happily. “Is it good?”
He nodded, still chewing. Not sure what he was chewing. “Tasty.”
“I wish I could help more,” she said sadly. “But I think you put my hands on backwards, which is why I keep dropping everything.”
He chuckled at the thought. “I think you’re just trying to get me to look at your hands.”
“Maybe.” Selma eyed the wall of tools. She’d tried helping him by handing him the ones he needed, but she wasn’t good at that job. She either dropped them or got the wrong one. “But at least I’m good at putting them back.”
He looked up at her through the magnifying lenses of his goggles. “You put them back?”
“Sure. Every night.”
“Really?”
“How did you think they were getting put back?”
“I thought Fed was doing it, actually.”
“Nope. It was me and Mila.”
“Huh.” He wiped the back of his hand across his jaw as he thought about it.
Realizing he felt guilty about it.
“I need to thank you again, then,” he said.
“It’s okay. We didn’t do it to get anything,” Selma said, holding out the sandwich for him to take another bite. “We did it to make your life easier.”
And that made him feel worse.
Because he knew what she wanted. She wanted to be close to him. Like how he was with Tania. But even though Tania assured him it was okay, he felt weird about it.
Humans weren’t really made to do that sort of thing. He’d tried to explain it to her, but she didn’t really listen.
“You’ll figure it out,” was all she’d said.
And then patted his head.
He took a bite of Selma’s sandwich. He knew it had pickles in it. And peanut butter. And ham. But the rest was mostly mystery.
Hang on. There was cheese, too.
He lifted his goggles and looked at Selma as she fussed over a small basket of food. Pulling out a flask, she unscrewed it and poured some of its contents into a cup.
And lifted it for him to drink.
Before noticing he’d been staring at her.
Her cheeks blushed lightly. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said, feeling his ears warm. He took the cup from her and sipped at it. Peach tea? It wasn’t bad. “I was just thinking about stuff.”
She toyed shyly with her hair. “What kind of stuff?”
He opened his mouth.
Then he closed it with a click as Mila strode quickly into the room. Her eyes widened a little, and she winced as she realized she’d interrupted something.
“I’m sorry,” she said to Selma. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. But you told me to when everything was ready.”
“It’s alright,” Selma said. She put the basket down on the bench and smiled at Milo. “I gotta go. You’re not gonna go anywhere, are you?”
He shook his head. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Impulsively, she leaned in and pecked his cheek. “Eat the sandwiches, Milo. I put an apple in there, too.”
He flushed hotly but nodded. “I will.”
“And try to take breaks. If you don’t, your eyes will get sore.”
“Sure,” he lied.
She rolled her eyes and started walking away.
As she caught up to Mila, Milo frowned. “Hey!”
The two golems froze and looked back. Mila saw him staring at her. “What?”
He let his eyes rove up and down. “You’re still wearing my coat. Can I have it back?”
Mila glanced at Selma, then back at him. “Are you cold?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll keep it until you are,” she said, pulling it tightly around herself.
He didn’t know what to say to that.
“Can I have your pants?” Selma asked lazily.
“What?”
“Your pants. She gets your coat. Can I have your pants?”
“I really don’t think they’ll fit.”
“So? Your coat doesn’t fit her. It’s too big.”
“Too small is different to too big.”
“Well, that ain’t fair,” Selma sighed. She put her hand on Mila’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go.”
When they were gone, Milo turned back to the golem on the slab. It still looked like half a skeleton whose intestines had been exploded. A mess.
Just looking at it made him itchy.
He picked up the half-eaten sandwich and nibbled on it absently while flipping pages in his journal until he found his list of priorities.
Fed was at the top.
Implants for the golems was second.
More mods for the other students was third.
Materials for the Workshop was next.
And, finally, learning more about the fortress as a whole. The Prime had said it had unlocked information on it. Was there more he could do with the fortress?
He had a feeling it was going to be important soon.
If the Paddstone’s did move their armies towards the Academy, he would definitely need to know if he could count on it to defend him, or if he’d need to run.
Where he’d run to was another question.
The Farringhams seemed to want him. He had no doubt they’d protect him at least until they’d squeezed every bit of knowledge out of him. He wasn’t sure if they were a family which prized loyalty.
Every family claimed it, but not many lived by it.
He’d asked Tania to see what other students thought about the Farringhams. While gossip wasn’t always reliable, it was helpful to find out what the overall impression was of the family.
After seeing the recording of Vesna telling her mage to step down, he felt a little less tense. It meant he didn’t have to worry about mages lurking around every corner.
But it still left him nervous.
Vesna hadn’t ever said exactly what she wanted, or what she suspected.
He’d be more comfortable if he knew what it was she suspected him of. If all she thought he’d done was find a random lost core, that’d be fine. He could maybe put a few random dwarven artifacts in a room for her and show her to it.
Tell Vesna he was being secretive so the Court didn’t steal his profits.
It sounded plausible.
But if she suspected something more, then that story wouldn’t work on her.
She wasn’t stupid. He never took her for stupid.
She’d understood exactly what he’d been hinting at and had immediately called off her plan to kidnap him. Although, he did accept that plan was also a back-up to her.
She did keep reaching out.
It’s just that he didn’t think he could trust her, let alone a whole family with the knowledge of the Workshop. They’d kill him for it for sure.
No, he had to wait and see.
Wait for her to let something slip. Or to lay out her cards.
He had a feeling he did have leverage.
She was too desperate. Whatever she thought he knew, she needed it. It wasn’t a simple whimsical desire. It was important enough that she’d considered forcefully taking it. And he had a feeling that wasn’t her default method.
Vesna was too cautious for that.
Wait, Milo told himself.
Hopefully if she did reach a point where she felt she had to resort to force, Fed would be ready and Milo could have upgraded his golems.
As he chewed his sandwich, he felt a sliver of unease crawl down his spine.
Or maybe he should do their upgrades first?
The whole Academy was a hotbed of gossip relating to the Paddstones and the Court. Someone was going to come for him soon. He could feel it in his bones.
He needed to be ready.
They needed to be ready.
He picked up a pencil and spun it between his fingers.
“Blast it,” he growled.
Then he started restructuring his priorities for the third time that day.