The Voyages of Voltz (2)
The Night Before (Voltz)
Boeteng’s Hut
“Voltz, you very well know that for the longest time I tried to keep a low profile and worked hard to never draw no trouble. I enjoyed makin’ a livin’ as a small-time trader, I lay low, dropped off my junk in town, popped a pill, kicked back on my antigrav chair, and watched those limbless poor bastards trickle in from the wilderness as the sun was setting, with a fraction of their original loads. And maybe that’s all there was, just a bad spot that my uncle chose to set up his toxic mushroom farm on. And that it sure was, as notin’ ever grew there, other than corpses that is, though not for lack of tryin’. Hell, not even purple slurp would hold, so we had to settle for the eyeballs, and there was plenty o’those n’ always fresh too.”
Boeteng was starting to gesticulate ever more wildly as he typically did when he retold his old tales, so Voltz was better off getting comfortable. He flicked off the neck corset clamps and carefully put down his helmet on the table. The silver blue Omni-X surveyor apparatus with Farsight Orange 7 optical suite and a compact Monolith filter made it look ornate and top-heavy but he wouldn’t have it any other way. It saved his life more times than he wished to remember. The deep yellow Tourmalinean worshiper mohawk crowned his helmet proudly. May the divine Tourmaline forever have mercy on our forsaken Apostle souls. Though as of late he started doubting if she actually cared. She hasn’t spoken to him in months, which made him even more apprehensive about this entire ordeal.
His headgear glittered softly in the high-frequency flickering of anti-scoia strobe lights. Boe has probably put them on, on purpose knowing how irritating the devices are to Psychos. Scoia sure didn’t seem to mind as he could clearly hear several scouring around in the vinewall.
The repulsor bench gave in slightly as he settled behind the octangular polished white damatheryst table next to Jett, and jacked in a cartridge of Massive, his favorite brand of lightly radioactive prasiolite swirl to ease down his growing agitation. According to the label consumption of Massive in moderate amounts could compromise longevity but promised to boost potency and Voltz never said no to anything that hinted at that. “Live now and forever” read the tagline. He passed one on to Jett as well, though he suspected it was a total waste given the newbie’s repulsive demeanor. His wrinkly grey skin made him look like a Dextralian ash rhino at the end of the mating season, and his constantly shifting small yellow eyes only compounded Voltz’s growing uneasiness. He really wished Jett kept his helmet on, but special situations demanded special measures. They had to get friendly and personal.
“They came from Death Lips or the Swept Lands and thought they’ve seen it all, that they was ready for anything, ‘quipped to the teeth, jacked up on pills, stims n’ all. And maybe they were ready for most anything, but not for the Frigid Plains, not for the Frozen Goddess peaks or the Last Gasp pass anyway. You gotta give it to ’em, that they just kept on tryin’. The legends of a plateau nestled somewhere between the legs of the Frozen Goddess lush with ionic blue clematis remains irresistible to most.” Boeteng never seemed to run out of ways to embellish his stories.
“I don’ blame’em,” said Jett, cementing Boeteng’s resolve to continue with his tale.
“So I got tired of watchin’ and decided to take it up a notch and set up a passer shop.” Boeteng threw back his long hooded khaki tunic as he squatted down and opened a large storage container. He shuffled inside looking for something.
“More like a trespasser shop, to be fair,” interjected Jett as he looked around at the wide range of menagerie hanging on the curved walls of Boe’s establishment. Visors, filters, opticals, vapes, motion detectors, drones, drills, portable harvesters, extraction tools, armor parts, and helmets with hastily scratched-out Guild emblems, most of them pierced or dented, with visible signs of trauma.
“I ain’t picky, I take what ‘ey drop, and as you can see they drop a lot,” Boe opened up another container and started sorting through it.
Voltz started to carefully examine the hut wall, always fascinated by the intricate threads of the snakevine with which Boeteng reinforced the inner and outer walls of his establishment. The roots were naturally covered with symbiotic toxic moss which gave off a surprisingly pleasant sweet-sour scent. One could never have enough of it for oil and petard preparation. Boeteng once told Voltz how he carefully followed the manufacturer’s recommendation of spraying the inside of the structure with anti-carnivorous moss treatment. Snakevine was notorious for attracting all native moss species, and while most were beneficial or harmless, it was recommended to let the carnivorous species only grow on the outside as a natural wildlife repellant, which the ever-resourceful Boeteng did but never bothered to put on the warning tape. He later much regretted that decision as one of Lothar’s minions leaned against the wall for too long while waiting for Boeteng to soften and pay up his tribute. By the time the Guilders pried him out most of his kidneys were gone. Thankfully they were kind enough to charge Boe for the replacements rather than taking his on the spot, which according to Boe some of them were very keen on.
“Say, you got any Goddess bait?” Asked Jett now that they were all cozied up.
“Hah, I knew it, the moment you entered that you ain’t come just for chit chat, I know Vol long enough, and he ain’t much of a talker,’’ said Boe as he finally seemed to have found what he was after.
Jett leaned away on his grav chair instinctively as Boe turned around with a modified double-barrel shotgun in his hands that looked like it could flatline an assault battle drone.
Voltz put his hand on the holster but before he could arm the weapon Boe’s put the bulky gun on the table in front of them.
“D’you know what this is?” He asked.
“A nasty-looking shotgun,” said Jett as he leaned down to have a closer look.
“Not just some shotgun. It’s an Archangel but I call ‘er Angry Bitch. I picked it off remnants of a Gorillas guildster who seemed to have run into a mosh viper ambush. It was still loaded and them barrels clean. Why’s folks so keen on traversin’ bogs I’ll never understand but’s good for b’ness, that’s fo’ sho. This baby’s got a quad stacked caseless explosive charges with venom tipped tungsten core in each barrel. You never seen no spread like that. If this boi didn’t get ambushed he’d ‘eve taken out half a herd of ’em preds with a single discharge, which is all fun ‘n dandy but that ain’t what makes it special. Boe pointed to the blue jewel-adorned handle.
“What’s that?’ Asked Jett while Voltz zoomed in and run a quickscan on the weapon. The scanner returned “unclassified shotgun” and then just kept spinning unable to further classify it.
“‘Tis an ode to Neelam, the Goddess of the blue water stone aura.” Boeteng raised his eyebrows and turned to Jett looking for a reaction.
“I think we all need a drink and lil something don’t you Boe? We didn’t come here to just look” said Jett and threw a pack of slurp cartridges and a fancy-box on the table.
They needed to get into Boeteng’s head and quickly too before the old man got tired of being preoccupied with weaving his tangly brag tales. There was always a fine line, for stream-of-consciousness incisions to go unnoticed. The timing had to be perfect, and the subject well-oiled and mentally preoccupied. This wasn’t Jett’s first rodeo but Voltz still felt uneasy as he wasn’t exactly a veteran either.
“Them Goddesses like their auras, ‘nd since they got nothin else to do, they get all possessive and jealous when someone unworthy flaunts it around.”
“Don’t say.” Jett glanced at Voltz.
“Them sure do, they have their own little cliques and they’re ok with some auras mixin’ but not others. Jade don’t like Neelam, but she sure is fine with Tourmaline, just like our friend Vol here.” Boeteng carried on with his rhetoric now armed with a violet-capped blue bonsai pill which he rolled over on his palm a few times clearly impressed with the craftsmanship. He opened his mouth as if to say something. The hesitation didn’t last long as he punched it into his vape and inhaled greedily several times. Looks like Boe was still keen on encountering mystical beings, even if it came with a touch of fear, paranoia, and a strong possibility of intrusions from unwelcome spirits. Blue bonsais were not cheap, and not for the faint-hearted. Jett did a good job of throwing up the fancy-box of these exotically packaged pills up front with the slurps. They’d get on with the show that much sooner. The shimmering deep blue aura and the velvet textured violet top, clear signs of Astroverse craftsmanship made them irresistible.
Boe stopped speaking for a moment as he propped himself with his left hand looking to regain balance. The repulsor bench hummed a little as it tilted to compensate.
Now they needed to wait for the pill effects to fully take in on Boe.
“Let’s slurp to our Goddesses then why don’t we, especially since we got a job on the ‘morrow, we need all the blessings we can get eh? Jett smashed a cartridge on the table with the prime pin on the wrong side and fizzed away half of his Tryppy Gold — Maximum strength slurp. It oozed out slowly into a perfect yellow-orange circle and bubbled lightly. The somewhat rancid odor suggested orange caps as one of the main ingredients.
“You just spilled a few hun’red’ credits. This is premium stuff d’you know, people die for less.” Boeteng grabbed a palm-sized liquicher from the cupboard and vacuumed away the spilled slurp in a few swift strokes.
“Don’t fret, we got plenty more.” Said Jett.
“I sure hope so, I don’ do no business narrow eyed.” Boeteng extracted most of the red slurp from the liquicher straight into his mouth. He then stuck out his thin split blue tongue and licked away a loose droplet off his chin. He put his hands on the table as if he needed to brace.
“So as I was saying all along until you interrupted me…”
“I didn’t interrupt you.” Jett objected. His seemingly clumsy distractions seemed to be working as Voltz sensed Boe’s brainwaves getting more scattered and chaotic. A few more minutes and he would be able to ride Boeteng’s thoughts as if they were his own.
“See you’re interruptin’ me again, as I was sayin’ them Goddesses got notin’ to do all day, they never go no nowhere, they literally just sit and say to themselves: shit what a fucked up existence we have, we just sit here all day ‘n do nothin’. One asks: “Do you feel like having even more of the black slurp sister ’cause I feel like puking from it all the goddam time?” Boe tried to emulate a soft female voice that sounded like a ballsack squeezed squirol.
“Well but it’s the best shit we ever created you know that — the other one says.”
“Well yeah, but you know no one is ever supposed to have this much.”
“Well am I a Goddess or am I not? The first one asks.
“Exactly we can have however much shit we want,” the other one says…”
“Hold on, it was the first one that said that right?” Jett primed another cartridge of Tryppy, without damaging it this time, and passed it to Boe who hesitated for a split second, looked at the label, and jacked it in all the same.
“No, no it was the other one.” Boeteng was visibly starting to struggle to maintain composure. To think inquisitors did this using force. So unsubtle.
“I ain’t gonna tell it twice ’tis for sure.” Said Boe.
“You was talking ‘bout them Goddesses Boe, as if they were just fucking with us all this time?” Jett gave Voltz another questioning look.
“Aye, they so bored, they just scheme and toy around is all.”
“‘N why is that?” Jett played along.
“You are so naive boi, so naive! Where did you find this younglin’ Vol?!” Exclaimed Boeteng “Because they are the Goddesses ‘member? They can do what’ver they want so they don’t feel like doing anything. They are bored as fuck. They don’t have to go on no runs. There is no good pond to harvest goo from, no market to sell their wares on, or looted junk like in your case.”
“That’s messed up man,” Jett shook his head. “They have one shitty life mate. Basically, all this goo and nothing to do.” A satisfied smile filled his face. “Huh, what a fine speeder decal. All this goo and nothing to do.” He grinned. “I be sellin’ these here next week,” he declared. “You don’t have enough craft pimp out props anyway,” Jett slammed Boeteng on the arm a little too hard so that the old Voyager had to steady himself not to fall off the floatbench.
“As you can see I’m a bit full on the inventory right now, and I make the call what merch passes ‘round my hut.”
“Your hut is very spacious,” said Jett and made a gesture as if he was about to slam him again so Boe ducked away instinctively. Nice one Jett. Keep him preoccupied and slightly agitated. Contrary to what one might think, cortisol helped open up the mental pores… to intruders anyway.
“Will you make him stop Vol,” Boe started pleading, ’cause I’m starting to think he’s just gonna be trouble with all these interjections ‘n all…”
“I didn’t do no interjections?” Jett made a puzzled face.
“See what I mean, like a lil kid, asking, proddin’, eye shiftin’, makin’ faces,…” Boeteng circled around Jett.
“He’s just a kid,” said Vol. A motherfucker of one too. He’s just opened you up like a can of Zorgian frigettes.
Voltz took a large swig of Massive and focused his gaze on the vinewall trying to minimize the sensory load. He needed to settle down in a calm spot before he could make the jump.
“Anyway, I’m tellin’ you Vol. It’s all just a play. We are the pions on the Byoverse board and tryptamine is the prize. The more we collect the more excited they get.” Suddenly animated again Boeteng looked up as if he was searching for something on the curved organic ceiling.
“Who are THEY Boe?” Asked Voltz. Boe was ready. The blue bonsai steered him onto the right path already. It was time to start peeling the onion.
Voltz keyed in a sequence on his forearm panel and a small cylinder hissed out of the accessory belt of his black titanium boride armor suit adorned with a purple-yellow inverted chevron strap across the chest plate, a signature of the Psychonaut Order. A full rack of nano-drone tipped shoulder spikes telegraphed that he’s recently visited a top-tier guild shop.
After some inner deliberation and fondling in the pill container, Voltz decided on the red and black droplets pill combo. He examined them quickly. The radioactive droplets suspended in the slow-release micro pods inside the first pill gave off a reassuring warm red glow. The numbered seal on the silver cap casing looked intact. Voltz was pleased. That harrowing trip to the Lumian outpost was finally paying off. There shouldn’t be any issues with the potency of the red droplets which were an essential catalyst for Theta psi-wave interception. The second pill had a dark grey textured lunar top with black goo droplets that seemed very agitated. They buzzed around inside the translucent pill casing spreading apart and coalescing as if they were preparing to jump out. The pill looked compromised, and sure enough, Voltz noticed a micro-crack on the inner pill casing. Thought intrusion was considered perilous enough with stable goo and these pods were about to burst, They had to hurry.
He injected both pills simultaneously as any good Psychonaut with a mission to pry into someone’s mind would.
His head started jerking uncontrollably as he momentarily struggled to control the sudden influx of extrasensory perception and early manifestations of life review thought streams. Any average Voyager, such as poor Boe here, would have fried his synapses trying to navigate these powerful subconsciousness streams, but Voltz’s Psychonaut training allowed him to tap into multiple pill effects simultaneously meshing them together into most fantastic mental concoctions. Only experience and natural affinity determined how much and whose thoughts one could handle. And in this world, each pill tangent opened a gate to a dimension that could provide an advantage at a critical moment. It took a lot of experience to know when to apply which and how to control them to fend off any undesirable effects. And those always came. Riding a good trip wave occasionally presented a life-changing reward but always exacted a price.
“The Goddesses, Vol, the Goddesses, who else would care.” Boeteng finally threw his arms in the air and looked up as if he was about to catch one falling out of the sky.
“We all know, that no one has actually seen a Goddess, but our friend Boeteng here claims differently.” Fully steeped with tryptamine Voltz’s voice became deep and measured. “According to one of his even crazier stories… after consuming some rainbow mushrooms, which he was lucky to find deep in the Weeping Marsh, which for the record I find completely sucked out of his vape, a Goddess manifested herself to him in a vision.”
“She spoke to me and touched me,” said Boeteng as he spontaneously started pruning stray snakevine offshoots with a pair of electro-shears.
“After which he felt… forever altered!” Exclaimed Voltz.
“Aye, that is exactly right, and let me tell you…” Boeteng suddenly stopped as he seemed to have lost his train of thought. His large, bulging eyes were suddenly motionless, and firm like boiled eggs.
Now! Voltz’s sensory tentacle mounted Boe’s exposed theta wave and clung to it.
“What did she say?” Asked Jett but Boe seemed to be lost in suspended animation as he stared dead ahead motionless.
“What exactly did she say?” Now Voltz asked Boe without opening his mouth.
“She’s tol’ me of a sacred place on a floatin’ islan’ where an ancien’ artifact will be assembled…” Answered Boe with his thoughts.
“To what end?” Voltz fended off some rouge childhood memory of Boe chasing a herd of erratically jumping Itch bunnies down a rocky hill. Boe caught one and dismembered it by plucking out all of its limbs. He pushed the thought litter into the shadows and lifted out a memory of Boe capturing an entire unit of harvesters in his self-made tripstake trap. This seemed like a peak of Boe’s intellectual adventurism. He needed to follow this fascination stream and zone in before he could penetrate the subconscious.
“It can alter the planet forever and open a gate to other dimensions, let us out, let others in” Boe answered stoically.
Voltz could feel the spiritual knot. It was warm. He was getting close. Images of Boe praying and colorful rays descending from the sky manifested around. Then a forest. Lush undergrowth with ferns the size of trees. Spiers of light shining through. A mask, a shimmering face inside it, unformed, ghostly. Beautiful. Perfect. Divine.
There she is! A Goddess.
“What for?” Voltz pressed. He knew he won’t be able to hide in here for long now.
“To meet the others,” said Boe and slid down the vinewall suddenly lifeless.
Suspended above a meadow, above a sea of trees dancing with their canopies, the Goddess’s head turned towards Voltz. Her mask suddenly impenetrable. And then an echo tremor exploded inside his head. He started to quiver uncontrollably, suddenly possessed.
“Why are you here?!” The echo scream reverberated endlessly.
Vivid images of apocalypse swarmed in, and Voltz quickly lost his grip. A vision of continents caught in blue fire, oceans iced over, Apostles fleeing across boiling plains, and alien rocketships arriving. Invisible hands started groping him, squeezing and pulling, his breath became rapid and shallow. He started to burn up, his skin was on fire. His body convulsing. The Goddess’s memory glimmer was about to strangle him.
“I was never here,” said Voltz inaudibly as he tried to let go of Boe’s theta wave stream. Nothing happened as the relentless and agonizing visions of doom only intensified. He could not exit.
“Voltz, not sure what you got yourself into there brother, but your body is coming apart and I’m punching you out.” Jett popped a clear pill and jammed it into Voltz’s quick port. Two seconds later he jammed in another.
Voltz was on a turbo-charged wash-off ramp. He needed to anchor himself quickly on something benign or risk scrambling his mind into goo. He picked up a dead scoia hanging off the vinewall and started examining it carefully. This specimen looked particularly nasty. Four inches long exoskeleton resembled an oblong metal peg with notches separating a small head with four claws and three centered eyes. Four pairs of razor-thin wings protruded from the slender torso divided into three dexterous abdomen sections which must’ve provided exceptional in-flight maneuverability. The scythe tail looked to be composed of some kind of cartilage with a hardened outer layer of membranous scales. It needed to pierce through the thick head armor of its primary host — the Brusaroterygota giant leechbeetle and lay its eggs in the brain tissue. A single hatched larva would lodge itself in the beetle’s hippocampus and transform it into a living host, which the hive would slowly devour over several weeks. What a lovely end.
Voltz turned slowly and looked around the room. No after glare, no vision boil, some scattered thoughts, and imaginary scoias getting under his suit, but he was almost out of the tunnel. The physical pain and exhaustion were incoming.
“I got ye too Boe boil!” exclaimed Jett as he frantically worked around the hut. He kneeled by Boeteng’s twisted body and injected him with what was supposed to be a diffuser, a low-dose clear pill that would lower the tryptamine curtain gradually, not the extra strength stuff he just pumped into Voltz.
Jett grabbed Boe and lifted him back up on the bench and wanted to lean him on the wall when he started coming about.
“Whoa whoa, easy there fella, you just took a bit of a tumble my fren, we had to diffuse you.” Jett let go of Boe and sat across.
Voltz, fully clear-minded now, threw down the scoia, and squished it to a pulp. Nasty motherfuckers, dead or alive.
He looked at Boe. The old Voyager seemed slightly confused and groggy as he looked around his hut and munched with his mouth, obviously thirsty. He felt sorry for him. Goddess knows how many times they’d have to repeat this.
“Here old timer, have some clear.” Jett threw a sack canister in front of him.
“Ah yes, yes…” He grabbed the sack and took several long swigs. His eyes jumped around in wild circles as if he was trying to understand what happened. Boe seemed lost in some introspection for a long while, squishing the clear sack like a towel. Then suddenly he let go of it, stood up, and put down his hands flat on the table. He looked at Voltz all serious and angry. Here it comes, thought Voltz. Being subconsciously memory-raped is never fun. Once the disorientation dissipated one typically went on a vicious rage rant, without really understanding why. The violated mind could tell something bad happened, but it did not know what and towards whom to direct the rage. It often appeared as if the host lost their mind. Voltz knew it was temporary and the next time they’d see Boe he’d not be any wiser. For now, they had to endure it and pretend nothing happened.
“So you’re telling me that’s the best you could’ve got huh? The mighty Voltz, the most wanted Psychonaut between the Salt Gulf and the Rip gets us this li’l pimpled and wrinkled piece of shit boi whose only accomplishment so far is gettin’ here into my shack, making stupid faces and interrupting.” Boe kept shifting his gaze from Jett to the Angry Bitch still lying in front of him as he towered over the table.
Jett scrambled off the bench and reached for his electrobow strapped on his back. His flabby facial folds shot up with blood and made his pushed-in nose and undershot jaw disappear. His typically bulgy eyes on the other hand became even more pronounced. He looked like an arachnotoad trying to pass stones.
“Jus’ look at ’em, they gonna start oozing juice soon, them eyes.” Boe seemed to have found the scapegoat on whom he’d unload the rage. “You sure smart Vol, rollin’ ‘round with an ugly motherfucker like this, he sure ain’t steelin’ any of your ladies, eh?”
Voltz put a hand on Jett’s breastplate to stop him from overacting.
“Eh Jett, don’t frett boi, Boe here is a fine passer, or should I say mostly watcher… he’s just short on temper at times is all.”
“What did you do that for Vol huh? Why the fuck did he need to know that. Was that your li’l trick to force me to demonstrate what Angry Bitch can do?” Boeteng, visibly upset now, threw his face right in front of Voltz.
“Boeteng, I know you not since yesterday, and you always say this and that, prance around like a cave kangaroo who’s seen light for the first time, but it’s all puffin’ n’ huffin’ until Lothar shows up and asks for this month’s dues.” The easiest way to squash a surge of post-entry aggression was brute intimidation, and he knew exactly how to accomplish that. It wasn’t easy for Voltz as he’s always had a soft spot for Boe. The old boi’s been around since before Voltz could walk. Boe took him on his first runs, showed him how to hunt, tend to ponds and dig for the finest psycho-truffles. They got drunk together more times than he could remember even though Voltz was still just a kid. He dropped his first mark with Boe. That was then. Before the ships arrived. Before the Goddesses started manifesting themselves. Before everything changed. Now they had a job to do, and for whatever reason Boe’s subconscious seemed to hold at least one of the keys. Or so that asshole Lothar thought anyway.
“That Ancient piece o’ shit don’t scare me. He can p’rade round with his little troupe that stuck to him like a bunch of wetflies at the whiff of a gung pile but one-on-one I’d show him where Boris hid his junk.” Said Boeteng but it seemed to have deflated him as he sat down on his bench, suddenly resigned.
“Easy there Boe,” Voltz rose slowly“ Let’s not get ahead of ourselves now, we don’t want to say things we cannot unsay.”
Voltz really hated his job sometimes. “You know, as I know, that poor Voyagers like yourself can’t even dream of sucking one off not to mention working for one or even standing near one.”
“The motherfucker stood pretty close to me last time he was here,” said Boeteng defiantly.
“You are lucky he did not mince you into wyrm food.” Voltz straightened his suit and reached for his helmet.
“I am the fuckin’ watcher, am I not?” Said Boeteng.
“That you are, but don’t forget that one misreported convoy stands between your scrawny existence and none at all… and never forget that Lothar never lets anyone just exit. He likes to play with his prey.”
“Play with his prey. That’s a good one too!” exclaimed Jett in a metallic voice of his helmet filter. He was all suited up and guarding the door with his electrobow charged and ready. “Don’t play with his prey. Darn. I’m good. I pump out a few decals like that and I won’t have to go on no runs whatsoever. No hard feelings eh Boe, I bring’em ‘round next time we’re here and tell you how much I want for’em. You sell as you like, make a killin’. We gonna be rich ol’boi.” Jett probably smiled underneath his helmet but thankfully no one had to see that anymore.
Boeteng looked at him but didn’t say anything. He turned to Voltz instead.
“To think we were best pals once Vol. I practically raised your lost Psycho ass, funny how quickly you forgot.”
“I can never forget that Boe.” He hesitated. “…this been a fun one but I gotta jet here with Jett. We got a train to catch as you know. I suggest you psych off a bit and stay frosty, we all got a job to do”
“Ain’t that difficult in this fuckin’ cold,” said Boeteng, tired and resigned.
“I’ll take the shotgun.” Said Voltz and tossed a credits pouch on the table.
“Take it, it’s been trouble ever since I brought her in,” said Boeteng.
He followed them outside and waited until Jett sped off on his retro Duster into the night.
“What now?” asked Boeteng.
“Stay focused and calm, we don’t want any surprises when Lothar comes about. I don’t want to do any dirty work. We know each other too long. Let’s just get it over with and we’ll get back to our lives” said Voltz as he secured his gear and jumped onto his orange and black Spyder. He hit up the ignition. The repulsorlifts hummed and the bike lifted off the ground. Tiny blue flames coming from the thrust engines illuminated the darkness.
“You kept the logo huh?” Boe nodded towards the Bad Tryp emblem on the engine.
“I’m on a sabbatical until I’m paid off. I ain’t in love with Lothar, but there are some things I need to do.”
“Once you’re in, you’re never really out huh?”
“You keep those eyes peeled Boe,” said Voltz as he cranked up the engine power.
“That’s all I really do here. I keep my eyes peeled. When I see that convoy you’ll be the first to know.”
“Lothar will be delighted to hear that,” said Boe and sped off leaving Boeteng in a cloud of freshly stirred-up dust.
Appendix — List of Characters and Places of Interest
Written by Raftor.eth https://twitter.com/raftorTSE2
Illustrated by BadTryp https://twitter.com/badtrypz
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