Art:AADM/Second round/Different from the Other Bots

The Short
= The Entry = Lazy Kari had questioned her motives many times before (being a bot with all able stats had given her plenty of time to think), and always came back to the same conclusion: she put up with the numerous puzzle challenges at the Multiplicative Tables Inn just so she could watch how the other bots behaved (It didn’t hurt that Happy Robert was quite the looker). It wasn’t that she was a dunce, it was just that she had trouble understanding the motives of her peers. As they passively situated themselves on the fringes of the room every time, it seemed painfully clear to her again that the words of her old captain, Salty O’Shea, were strikingly true: “You’re different from us other bots, Lazy Kari. I can’t explain it, but for some reason you’re… unattached.”

Inevitably, the memories linked to these words, which flooded back with every remembrance, filled her mind. Mental scars began to tingle as the room around her faded to grey. A crack of lightning split the sky, and she was standing once more on the deck of the Lonely Chub, rain pounding on her face. -Not again!- Kari’s mind screamed. It was as if she was reading a story to which she already knew the end. As hard as she willed her body to somehow prevent the catastrophe, she knew it was futile, and her flesh continued to act out its part in the relentless tragedy.

As Kari stood in defiance of the storm, mocking its pitiful attempts at intimidation, she sensed another at her side. Turning, she saw that Gallant Frank had joined her. He flashed her a quick smile, then they both turned again to challenge the tempestuous seas. Frank, the one person on the ship who she would actually talk to. He was the one to whom she had finally opened her heart. Anyone else attempting to initiate a conversation with Lazy Kari always received nervous, monosyllabic replies, and soon they ceased even trying. But with Frank, she always felt at ease. Still gazing over the waves, she began her fateful conversation, even as Kari’s mind raged against its existence.

“Shaping up to be a hell of a storm, don’t ya think?”

“Eh, you and I have both seen worse, and you know it.” Frank turned, giving her a wry grin.

“Those pathetic sailors who call themselves ‘pirates’ have all bailed out. Just us bots now.”

“Did you expect otherwise?”

“Oh, come on. You know I’m not stupid. I can’t even remember the last time one of those cowards made it through a squall. It’s just we always end up short-handed at the worst of times. Now the Captain’s only going to be able to spare two to manage the sails, and if those two don’t get them furled fast enough, we may lose a mast.”

“Well then what say we go volunteer? You know we’re the best.” It wasn’t bragging, and both Kari and Frank knew it. His infectious optimism and good cheer was starting to get to her, and with one more smile, she gave in.

“Fine, I guess…” Her exasperated tone covered the fact that Kari really enjoyed being on the ropes with Frank. The friendly competition they fostered drove each of them, but, to be honest, even when she lost, Kari never really felt like she lost.

-No no no. I’ve put that behind me.- Shaking her head, Kari strove to burn away the fog of memory. Blinking, her eyes lost their glazed look; the inhabitants of the inn slowly returned to focus. Surely a breath of fresh air would help to drive off those inexorable demons. Stepping outside, Kari caught a whiff of the salty air and glanced down toward the dock. Bazaar stalls lined up along the shore in rows upon rows, proffering their goods to captains and cabin boys alike. Perhaps the bustling atmosphere there would fully restore her to the present. She strolled from stall to stall scrutinizing wares, even though she knew nothing would be purchased by her miniscule cash supply. Reaching the end of the row, she unintentionally gazed down at the harbor. On one ship, sailors were furling the sails, having just reached port. But they were clumsy. Not like her and Frank. Subconsciously realizing the trap she was falling into, her mind again began a -no no no-, but this time it was too late. Furling sails. Her and Frank. The night of the storm.

They had to shout over the wind and thunder in order to be heard. “If you don’t pick it up a bit, I’ll have to come over and do your half too!” Frank yelled to Kari. Even in the midst of a frighteningly fierce gale, his playful nature shone out.

“Would you do it as sloppy as your half?” Kari hollered in reply. “Look! That knot on the mizzen top-mast is coming loose!”

Letting out a “Bloody hell,” Frank scampered back to refasten the tie in question. After finishing up the mainmast, Kari moved on to the foremast, reaching it at the same time as Frank. With the boat rocking heavily, they scrambled up the rigging on either side, and began to bring in the sailcloth. This time Kari finished first and looked up, only to be struck speechless. Approaching the bow of the Lonely Chub, a sixty foot breaker filled her vision. As her voice grudgingly returned, Kari managed to croak a weak “Frank…”

“Hold on a sec, let me finish this last knot,” Frank’s jovial voice called back over the storm, oblivious to the danger.

This time she managed to put more urgency into her cry. “Frank, drop it!” Confused, he finally tore his attention away from the work, to see the epic wave bearing down hard. Wrapping one arm around the mast, Kari extended her other to Frank, who had been working out on the end of the yard. Cautiously he began to work his way toward her, compensating for the roll and pitch of the ship in the still-rough seas. Kari continued to glance from him to the wave, and back.

“You’re not going to make it!” she shouted, doing a rough mental estimation. “Just hang on to the yard!” Frank, reaching the same conclusion, wrapped himself around the cross-beam. Meanwhile, Kari embraced the mast just as the wave hit.

Blasted with saltwater, her ears still picked up a loud cracking sound over the crash of the wave. -Damn, the mast is breaking.- But there was nothing to do but hold on and hope.

The rest of her memories blurred together in the drunkenness of grief. After looking down to see emptiness where the yard had been seconds earlier, Kari’s mind had ceased connecting events in a rational manner. Her frantic search of the ship, her pleas with O’Shea to turn about, and her nights spent weeping in her cabin all melded into one overwhelming lament. Only by blocking completely the events of that night from her thoughts did Kari avoid an utter breakdown. But she also could not bear to be close to any of her fellow bots, because as soon as she began to joke around with one, she could not help but think of Frank and his humorous yarns. As a result, her already reserved nature became an isolated one, and though she was the best, she named no bot her comrade, and none claimed to be her follower.

Strangely enough, it was a participant in that fearful night that saved her from the quicksand of mourning. As her lifeless eyes stared down toward the harbor, a familiar ship caught her eye. Kari almost couldn’t believe it, and in an instant her attention snapped back to the present. She ran down toward the dock, intent on determining whether or not her sight had deceived her. Reaching the craft in question, Kari examined again the well-worn vessel for the first time in years.

As she stood, a young man stormed out of the cabin, muttering to himself. “Bloody pirates! Why can’t they understand that there’s more money to be made merchanting than running around in a vain attempt to prove their manhood! Gah, now I’ll have to use bots…” At which his words fell to a dull mumble that Kari could not make sense of.

“Excuse me, Sir,” she called, trying to get the apparent captain’s attention.

He turned, a quizzical expression on his face. Not being accustomed to bots addressing him, he was unsure of how to reply.

“What?”

“I was just wondering, what is the name of this ship?” Though she was now sure of herself, she needed to hear it from another mouth.

“It’s called the Lonely Chub, though I really just inherited that name when I bought it off the navy. Now, if you’re satisfied, I have to go find some bots to crew it.” Due to her independent nature, the man had completely forgotten that she herself was a bot, a fact which she soon reminded him of.

“Can I volunteer? If you don’t mind, that is.”

“Sure. Make yourself comfortable; I still need a crew.”

As he began to stroll off toward the bazaar, Kari called after him. “Sir, what should I call you?”

“Captain Hansen will do for now.” And with that, he turned again and resumed his quest for a crew.

-Why did I do that?- Kari’s offer had sprung to her lips unbidden. As she crossed the gangplank, her mind tumbled out of control. So many memories, how could she possibly avoid losing herself again? Unsure of whether it would hasten insanity or postpone it, Kari seized onto tradition, letting her footsteps walk the familiar path to her former cot. When the other bots finally arrived, joking with each other, she was already established. Even before they knew her, she was separate, not one of them. The days passed, and soon the ship became, to Kari, identical to those countless ones before it. The bots, even Captain Hansen, acknowledged her as the best of the sailors, earning her the title of First Mate, but her emotional isolation remained absolute. She began to wonder why she had thought this ship, of all ships, could help her. After all, it was a completely new crew, a new captain. Why shouldn’t it turn out like all the others?

“Sails approaching from the stern, Captain!” the lookout cried, startling Kari out of her reverie. “She’s flying navy colors!”

“Ease off the sails, mates!” Captain Hansen called. Standing at the helm with Kari, he explained to her. “I’d like to see if we can barter some supplies off her captain. We’ve got enough, but just barely. Navy ships always run well-stocked, and perhaps we can negotiate for some of our sugar cane.”

“Sounds reasonable.” Kari’s clipped, independent replies had startled Hansen at first, being accustomed to the “Aye aye, sir” that he usually received. But they had grown to be refreshing, a break from the monotony of sailing with bots. Standing in silence, the pair watched as the distance between ships shrank slowly.

Suddenly, without warning, Kari’s mind flashed back, leaving an afterimage of her and Frank on the deck imprinted in her vision. As it slowly began to fade, Kari pondered -What was that for? Hansen isn’t Frank, and there’s no danger here.- Suddenly a chill ran up her spine. “Captain? Something about this doesn’t seem right. I’ve no explanation, but this situation just feels wrong.”

Perplexed, Hansen looked at Kari, her stony gaze locked onto their trailer. He thought for a few seconds, then called out “All hands to stations! No need to be alarmed, just be ready to jump to it!” A chorus of “Aye aye, sir!” greeted him, and he turned to smile at Kari. But her eyes remained focused past the stern. Sighing, he looked back as well.

An hour went by, and the two ships had finally drawn near. For the entire duration, Kari had intently examined their pursuer, searching for any explanation to account for her premonition. Captain Hansen had remained at her side, in case her fears had been confirmed. By now the ships were a mere hundred yards apart.

“Damn…” Kari whispered.

“What?”

“They’re lowering their colors.” She was now sure of herself, and glad that Hansen had been willing to keep the crew at their stations on a feeling.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything sinister.” Hansen still held on to the hope that perhaps it was an innocent navy ship, though Kari seemed to have abandoned it.

“But that does.” As she spoke, a black flag rose on the ship. It caught the wind halfway up, opening to reveal a skull and crossbones.

“STATIONS!!!” Hansen yelled, spinning to grab the helm. Throwing it hard to port, he looked back to see his opponent imitating his maneuver.

“Incoming!” Kari shouted, as the pirate ship unleashed a broadside. Cannonballs splintered through the deck, leaving gaping holes along the side of the ship.

“Kari, take the helm. I’m going to manage the damage control. If you can keep us out of their cannons, we can outrun them. But one more broadside like that and it’s Davy Jones’ Locker for all of us.” Captain Hansen sprinted toward the lower levels, anxious to save his ship. Kari realized he was correct in making that his priority. After that first broadside, the Lonely Chub would go down by its own accord without massive repair efforts.

Meanwhile, she had the helm, and scarce seconds before another broadside would level the Chub. -Let’s see if they’re afraid of a little nudge.- Kari whipped the wheel to port once more, and now their diminutive vessel was on a direct course for the pirates’ starboard side. As she had hoped, the enemy captain protected his ship, and shied away to port, bringing his cannons off of her. Quickly slipping into the other ship’s wake, Kari realized her predicament.

-Damn. I’m tailing him now, but if I turn either way, he’ll just match it and fire.- Suddenly her mind reached a solution. The stern of the enemy ship had no overhang whatsoever, and the Chub’s bow was a bit blocky. “Full sails!” Kari cried, and glared at the bots who looked at her in confusion.

The Chub leapt forward, and the gap shrank alarmingly fast. Bots began to reduce their speed, for fear of smashing the bow. “Stay on it! I want full speed!” Kari insisted. Soon the Chub began to scrape against its adversary’s stern. Kari’s eyes glazed, her entire mind focusing on detecting the distinct ‘snap’ she had rested her entire plan upon. Finally, through the crashing water and moaning wood, she heard it, and only then did she call “Keep some speed, but slow us down! Get off her stern, and quickly!”

Crossing her fingers, Kari spun the wheel hard to starboard. As the pirates continued on without turning, she released a pent-up sigh of relief. It had worked. The pirates’ rudder was ruined, and Hansen was now free to repair his ship without outside interference.

Later that day, after hours of nerve-wracking repair work, the Lonely Chub had finally reached a stable status. She wasn’t at her prime, but at least there wasn’t any more worry of sinking. Making one final inspection of the restoring work, Captain Hansen decided to broach a subject that had puzzled him since that first day on the dock. After he had hunted out Kari, he sat her down and got straight to the point.

“I’m going to be frank with you. Any other bot would have screwed up that battle. Actually, I’m pretty sure that even I would have lost it as well, against such an overmatched opponent. Yet you figured out a way to save us. What is it, Kari? What is it that makes you so different from these other bots? We all know you’re the best of them, but I’d be a poor captain indeed if I didn’t notice that you don’t even have a single companion. I mean, you don’t even have the leeches and sycophants that usually flock to their betters. My question is: why?

Kari cringed, fearing the inevitable onslaught inside her mind, but for some reason the wild memories remained on their chain this time. Surprise soon occupied the space traditionally reserved for her depression, and, for loss of something better to say, she gave a weak “It’s a long story…”

“Ha! As if we don’t have time for it! We’ve still got weeks left in this voyage. If that’s not enough time, then I don’t know what is.”

And so, Kari decided to attempt something she had only tried three times before. Everyone seemed able to notice that she was different, but being able to understand why was completely different. The first time, her captain had asked, but had been so apathetic to her heart-wrenching grief that remaining on his ship became impossible. The next two had only been slightly better. Their sympathy, at first, made her feel better, but as weeks passed, Kari recognized the condescension that had permeated their every conversation with her. After those first three, she had refused to tell her story to her captains, or anyone else for that matter. But this time was different, the memories had stayed at bay, even after Hansen had practically quoted her fear’s buzzwords. She felt she owed him something, if only for that.

And he listened, but she had seen that before. And he expressed sympathy, but that, too, was not new to Kari. It was the next two weeks that surprised her.

Hansen’s sympathy did not become condescension, nor did he purposely avoid her in order to evade dealing with her emotions. On the contrary, he sought her out each day, and he made a conscious, determined effort to befriend her. Thus, in revealing the loss of the one person she had ever named her friend, Kari had finally gained another. He wasn’t Frank, and he didn’t try to be. Hansen’s nervousness was a direct contrast to Frank’s affability, and he disliked competition, even in jest. But he was willing to laugh at himself, given a reason to, and he sincerely cared for the feelings of others.

“Looks like we might run into that squall.” Hansen and Kari were standing on the deck, eyeing a patch of rough seas in the distance.

For the second time in two weeks, Kari’s mind flashed back to the deck of the Chub that terrible night. Just because its similarities were easier to recognize this time did not make it any less foreboding. “I’m getting a bad feeling about this one, sir. It looks small, but these things can be deceiving.”

“Well, your instincts were right before. I’ll get the rest of the crew ready.” He turned to head belowdecks.

“Hansen?”

He halted at the top of the ladder to reply. “Yes?”

“If this gets bad, well, you know my history with storms. Be careful, please?”

“Sure thing.”

As he headed down to rouse the crew, Kari’s mind tumbled in a mess of uncertainty. -Will I remember that like I remember that conversation with Frank? Well, that was the most I could do.-

Soon they were in the heart of the tempest, and, as Kari had feared, it proved much fiercer than it had appeared. She quickly grabbed a few bots and scaled the rigging to pull in the sails. Hansen tried to accompany them, but one hard glare from Kari was enough to remind him of his promise. Instead, he remained below to organize the sailors on the deck.

With both of them helping from above and below, the sails were furled safely before the storm could tear down a mast. As Kari finished the last knot on the foremast, she looked down to see Hansen finishing the corresponding final tie on the deck. Time froze for Kari as a wave hit the deck of the ship, sweeping Hansen off his feet and over the railing. -Not again!-

Kari snatched a hanging rope and slid down lightning-quick, heedless of the skin ripped off her palms by the friction. Her feet hit the deck to the accompanying thought of -My fault again! I told him to stay on the deck!- But this time Kari did not intend to let the sea rob her of the one thing she couldn’t bear to lose. Grabbing a free rope, she tied one end to the mast, and the other to her waist. Vaulting to the top of the railing, she paused, searching the waves for a sign of Hansen. Finally his head bobbed up, hundreds of feet away, and she dove into the icy water toward him.

Breaking the surface, Kari struck out in the direction she had last seen Hansen. The salt water stung her bleeding palms, bringing tears to her eyes. As they mixed with the rain and sea around her, she knew there would be many more to come if she didn’t save Hansen. -No. He’s not going to die. I’m going to make it to him.-

Yet as she approached the position where she thought she had seen him from the ship, no sign to guide her appeared. For a split second, despair filled her heart, and doubt began to creep in, driving an icy spike into her heart to match the water she treaded in.

“Hansen!” No reply. “HANSEN!”

Finally, after agonizing seconds of just the sounds of wind and rain, a familiar voice returned over the waves. “Kari! I’m over here!”

Happy memories can blur just as easily as bad ones. The rest of that night was as much muddled as the days after Frank’s death. Finding Hansen and swimming back to the ship were as an instant in Kari’s mind, and her the final days of the Chub’s voyage lost any comprehensible sequence. Looking down, Kari fingered the ring that felt so odd on her finger.

“Well it’s not really carrying the wife over the threshold, but this is the best I can do without a house,” Hansen playfully said as he swept out Kari’s feet from under her, carrying her across the gangplank and heading for their cabin.