Tinman, Chapter 9 Cass' senses fluttered back to the tangible world, her mind's grip on the Ares dome loosening like a dream slipping away at dawn. She lay motionless for a moment, draped across her bunk in the catamaran's compact quarters, as reality seeped into her consciousness. The faint bobbing of the vessel reminded her that she was no longer standing on the firm ground of the virtual arena. With a sudden jolt, she remembered—her armor. Panic prickled at the base of her skull; she had forgotten to unequip the digital shell that safeguarded her in the game's treacherous landscape. If the spawn point had shifted during her absence, she risked materializing in an area where such protection was not just frowned upon but outright prohibited. It would be more than just a faux pas; it would be a spectacle of embarrassment, standing there possibly in nothing more than her virtual skivvies while everyone else adhered to the unspoken dress code. "Spawn points," she muttered, the words lingering in the air like vapor trails. They were fickle things, often changing with no more warning than a gust of wind altering its course. Too many players in an area, or perhaps just the whimsical decree of a Game Master could have relocated her re-entry point to somewhere decidedly less accommodating. She swung her legs over the edge of the bunk, the muscles in her calves tensing as she planted her feet on the cool floor. Standing up, she stretched, arms reaching towards the ceiling of the small cabin, every vertebra in her spine popping in protest. Two hours—it didn't seem like much, but in the realm of virtual reality, it was akin to borrowing time from the devil himself. She knew the risks all too well. Lingering too long in the digital embrace of the game could lead to dire consequences for the body left behind. Blood clots, atrophy, even the subtle creep of psychological detachment were all potential bedfellows of the extended gamer. It was said that the game console kept watch over one's health, a digital sentinel poised to sound the alarm at the first sign of trouble—but Cass wasn't naive. She understood the simplicity of the medical program, how easily a true emergency could slip through its electronic fingers. "Should've set an alarm," she chided herself softly, her voice carrying a mild hint of amusement despite the gravity of her neglect. The chuckle that followed held a note of relief, though—it was good to be back, armor mishaps and all. Cass padded softly across the cabin, her gaze drawn to Sam at the table, his focus laser-sharp on the scattered pieces of Draco's geological survey drone. The once-whole contraption lay in a state of disassembly, its innards exposed like the secrets of a strange new world. Draco, perched atop a stool, observed with the intensity of a sentinel. He had changed outfits again, the t-shirt now emblazoned with—Draco the Explorer—declaring his newfound role in bold, block letters. Curiosity tickled the edges of Cass's thoughts; the scene before her was an intricate dance of dismantling and discovery, one she wasn't privy to until now. She arched an eyebrow, studying the disarray of wires and metal plates. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice slicing through the hum of focused activity. Sam glanced up, the gears of his mind seemingly grinding as he transitioned from the task at hand to the act of conversation. He blinked, then returned to his work with a brief nod to acknowledge her presence—a silent symphony played out in the space between them. "Adjustments," he murmured, though his answer hung in the air, as cryptic as the purpose of the disassembled drone itself. Sam's fingers moved with the precision of a seasoned craftsman, deftly re-wiring components within the skeletal frame of the geological survey drone. With each adjustment, his expression remained one of quiet determination, the kind that Cass knew was reserved for challenges that mattered deeply to him. "I'm upgrading the laser range finder to a real laser," he explained, his attention never wavering from the delicate task. His voice was a mere whisper against the soft clinking of metal on metal. "Eventually, we're going to have to get off the boat, and with all the wildlife roaming around, I want Draco to be able to defend us." He paused, considering the placement of a tiny circuit board before securing it into position. "The laser won't cause permanent damage, but it should sting enough to discourage something from thinking we're lunch." The corner of Cass's mouth lifted in a half-smile at Sam's practical foresight. She nodded, her green eyes reflecting both agreement and a touch of pride. "That's a good idea," she replied, her words floating across the cabin like leaves on a gentle stream. Draco, still observing, tilted his head as if contemplating his impending role as protector—a sentinel in a world untamed by man or machine. Sam's fingers paused above the array of wires and microchips scattered across the table, a small furrow creasing his brow. "I have ideas for some more upgrades, but I don’t have the parts," he murmured, almost to himself. His voice held a hint of frustration, the kind that came from a vision just out of reach. Cass watched him from her perch on the bench, her arms resting on her knees as she leaned forward, eyes tracking every movement Sam made. The cabin around them was a cocoon of innovation, buzzing with the potential of what could be. The notion of improvement sparked a light in her bright green eyes—an ember ready to ignite with possibility. "Maybe if we find that silver deposit, we can buy a planetary survey drone," Cass suggested, her tone casual yet laced with underlying ambition. Her words hung in the air between them, ripe with the promise of exploration. The idea seemed to breathe new life into Sam; his hazel eyes lit up, reflecting a galaxy of thoughts. He nodded slowly, allowing the concept to take root. "That would certainly expedite our work," he agreed. Sam's gaze returned to the jumble of wires and circuit boards scattered across the table, his hands moving with practiced precision. The air was heavy with the scent of solder, the gentle rocking of the catamaran a familiar dance beneath them. He connected one wire, then another, his focus unwavering. "He would be faster," he mused aloud, almost as if speaking to the components themselves, "and more bells and whistles to work with." His eyes flicked up to Cass, a spark of curiosity in their depths. “I thought you were playing a game.” Cass, reclining against the wall, watched the slow rhythm of Sam’s work. She pulled at a loose thread on her sleeve, her armor's presence still lingering like an echo in her mind, before answering with a casual shrug. "I am, just taking a break," she said, her voice carrying the faintest hint of defensiveness. The cabin fell into a comfortable silence again, punctuated only by the occasional clink of metal or the distant call of seagulls outside. Cass' thoughts drifted, orbiting around the impending match, the potential embarrassment of her armor mishap, and the delicate balance of reality and the virtual world she so often navigated. Sam nodded, accepting her response without further question, and turned his attention back to Draco's geological survey dome. Each piece had its place, each upgrade a step toward safeguarding their future on this untamed planet. Cass watched him, appreciating the meticulous nature of his task, her own resolve strengthening with every moment they spent allied in purpose. Sam's fingers paused, hovering above the scattered innards of the geological survey drone as if suspended by an invisible thread. He peered at Cass from beneath furrowed brows, his gaze sharpening with unspoken thoughts that seemed to weigh down the air between them. "Stand alone game, or at the Ares Dome?" he inquired, each word falling deliberately into the quiet space of the cabin. Cass shifted her weight, feeling the texture of the bench beneath her. She could sense the undercurrent of concern lacing Sam's question—a silent plea for honesty. Her heart tapped a steady beat against her ribs, a metronome to the truth she was about to voice. "At the dome," she began, meeting his gaze with the kind of frankness that left no room for doubt. "I was helping a class of little ones learn Red Knight." The corners of Sam's lips twitched, a hint of warmth battling the stern cast of his features. He resumed his work on Draco, the metallic components clicking softly like distant stars chiming in the void of space. His acceptance of her words was tacit, yet palpable, a silent agreement sealed within the confines of their floating sanctuary. The reactor hum of the catamaran melded with the gentle sway, a lullaby for Cass's senses as she watched Sam's hands resume their delicate dance over Draco's disassembled parts. The tools in his grasp became extensions of his own body, meticulous and sure. "I remember that game," Sam mused, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile as if he'd caught a wisp of some distant, joyful memory, "you were so proud when you brought your completion certificate home." A wave of nostalgia washed over Cass, and her lips curled into a grin, mirroring Sam's sentiment without effort. "Yeah," she agreed, her voice buoyant with the recollection of past triumphs. "When you finish Red Knight, you get to play more complex games." Her eyes glinted like the reflection of the sun's rays, bright and eager. Sam nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the milestones they had traversed together—each one a stepping stone paving the path to the here and now. The subtle upward curve of his lips persisted, a testament to shared victories both small and grand. The room felt alive with the spirit of camaraderie, a bond forged through countless shared experiences—a father and daughter united under the banner of discovery and unwavering support. "Eat and drink something before you head back," Sam urged, his attention shifting back to the array of wires and circuit boards sprawled across the table. His hands resumed their methodical work, fingers deftly reconnecting the sinews of Draco's survey drone with the precision of a surgeon. Cass nodded, acknowledging the wisdom in Sam's words. She stood, her body unfurling from the bench like a sail catching wind. With purposeful strides, she navigated the compact interior of the catamaran to where provisions were stowed. Her hand hovered, selecting a freeze-dried packet labeled in stark, utilitarian font: 'Ham & Scalloped Potatoes.' The image on the packet promised more than the contents could deliver, but it would refuel her body for the tasks ahead. She retreated to her bunk, a sanctuary within the floating vessel. Cass drew the blanket—a makeshift curtain—closed around her space, cocooning herself in a flutter of fabric. Privacy was scarce aboard, and she savored this small partition from the world. Perched on the edge of her bed, the bunk's cushion compressed softly under her weight. She tore open the packet with a practiced tug, revealing the desiccated meal within. Cass pinched a portion between her fingers, rehydrating bites with a few squirts from her water bottle. Each mouthful was texture and necessity, lacking in flavor yet suffused with sustenance. Her eyes closed momentarily, envisioning Martian soil beneath her feet, the tang of real ham teasing her senses. But dreams would have to wait; reality called her back, the console's blinking lights just beyond the veil of her blanket barrier reminding her of the game that awaited. Cass chewed thoughtfully, her mind already weaving strategies and maneuvers for the challenges that lay ahead in the pixelated arenas of the Ares Dome. Each bite was a step toward readiness, fueling not just her body but the resolve etched into her spirit. Draco's voice, a blend of digital and human tones, sliced through the quiet ambiance of the catamarans interior. "This is boring, I’m going to rest my circuits," he declared, his digital limbs giving a slight shudder as if to emphasize his point. Sam glanced up from the tangle of wires and circuitry spread out before him. His fingers, stained with grease, paused their meticulous dance over the drone’s innards. “Nope, you stay right there where I can see you,” he commanded, his gaze locking onto the holographic boy with an intensity that seemed to transcend the boundaries between real and digital. "Your eagerness to accompany Cass betrays your programming," Sam continued, his voice firm but not unkind. "But it's a risk we cannot take. You're planning to head to the Ares Dome with her, and if you do that, you’ll bring trouble down on us." He punctuated his words with a pointed look, one that held a father’s protective ferocity. Draco's head tilted in a remarkably human gesture of concession. The tension in the room eased, giving way to the rhythmic creaks of the catamaran as it swayed gently on the river. Cass's voice emerged muffled but firm from the cocoon of her makeshift privacy. "I'll be fine, Draco," she assured, the fabric barrier doing little to obscure the resolve in her tone. "Stay here." From the other side of the blanket, an audible sigh resonated—Draco's holographic form contracting in an almost perfect mimicry of a human slump. He settled back, his digital form reflecting the dim light as he emulated every nuance of human frustration. His performance would have been comical if not for the gravity of their situation. With the conversation at an end, Cass turned her attention back to the present. The freeze-dried ham and scalloped potatoes sat heavily in her stomach, bland and forgettable. She chased the last bite with a swig of water, the clear liquid washing away the grittiness from her palate. Her movements were methodical, each one a small step towards readiness. The neural-headset lay beside her, its sleek surface a portal to another realm. She reached for it, the cool metal against her skin a familiar sensation that grounded her as much as it promised escape. With practiced ease, she fitted it over her head, adjusting the interface until the connection was seamless. A glance at her watch confirmed the remaining time—thirty minutes. The countdown was on. Kyle awaited her in the virtual coliseum they called the Ares Dome. There was no room for error; punctuality was as much a weapon as any blade or code she wielded within the game. Lying back on the bunk, the cushion beneath her embraced her form. It was a fleeting comfort, soon to be replaced by the simulated sensations of her armored avatar. She closed her eyes, submitting to the transition as she whispered the command to bridge worlds. "Connect to Ares Dome," she breathed, and reality began to shift. Colors danced in a chaotic ballet, colliding and coalescing until the world snapped into sharp focus. Cass stood encased in her sleek metallic armor, the familiar weight of it grounding her despite the disorientation. She blinked, her eyes scanning the new surroundings – not the expected respawn point lined with digital lockers but an opulent corridor bathed in the soft glow of fluorescent lights.