The adrenaline from the clown circus faded slowly, being eaten up and replaced by bone-deep weariness that only came from surviving to live another day.

  Beauty ate up the miles, her engine a steady, throaty rumble that vibrated through all three of them. Behind them, the badlands stretched empty and indifferent. Ahead, the sun was beginning its slow bleed into the horizon, painting the sky in shades of bruised purple and dying orange.

  Arbor's grip on the handlebars was steady, his optics scanning the terrain. Rhaene sat behind him, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other cradling Aren against her chest. The kid had his face pressed to her jacket, half-asleep, lulled by the engine's vibration.

  "Camp or push through?" Rhaene's voice crackled in Arbor's comm, cutting through the wind noise.

  Arbor's response was immediate. "The probability of encountering predatory fauna increases by 73% after sundown. Camping in a defensible location is the statistically optimal choice."

  "Statistically optimal is also statistically boring. I say we push. Midnight fuel burn's almost full, we can make Carpark by dawn if we-"

  A small hand shot up from Rhaene's grasp, pointing at the sky. Aren was suddenly very awake, squirming against her grip, his blue eyes wide with something that looked almost like wonder.

  Rhaene followed his gaze. "What the-"

  Above them, emerging from the deepening twilight, were lights. Not stars, stars were a rare commodity in the haze-choked sky, but glowing things. Great, translucent shapes drifting on unseen currents, their bodies glowing with soft, bioluminescent light. They moved like jellyfish in water, trailing tendrils that shimmered with faint, blue-green luminescence. Some were small, barely the size of her fist. Others were massive, longer than Beauty herself, their slow, pulsing movements hypnotic.

  "What in the seven cities," Rhaene breathed.

  Arbor slowed the bike, his optics tracking upward. "Atmospheric filter-feeders. They consume airborne particulate matter and microbial life at high altitudes. During cooler months, they descend closer to the surface. Guild biological surveys classify them as 'Sky Jellies.' Non-aggressive. Mildly toxic if ingested. Only a fool would try to eat one, however."

  The last part was not-so-subtly directed at Aren, who was leaning so far forward trying to get a better look that Rhaene's arm on his gown was the only thing keeping him attached to the bike. His mouth hung open, a tiny, delighted squeak escaping him. He reached up, fingers grasping at empty air, as if he could somehow snatch one of the glowing creatures from the sky.

  "They're beautiful," Rhaene said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. She cleared her throat. "But it's whatever. I've seen better. Glowing floaty things, yeah? Seen 'em before."

  Arbor's optic lights flickered in a way that could've been either skepticism or just a hardware issue. "Your vital signs indicate elevated emotional response inconsistent with your statement."

  "Shut up and drive, tinman."

  Aren wasn't listening to their bickering. He was utterly transfixed, his whole body straining upward, arms extended. One of the smaller Sky Jellies, no bigger than a dinner plate, drifted lower than the others, its glowing tendrils trailing just a few feet above the badlands floor. It pulsed with soft, rhythmic light, completely unaware of the small creature below reaching for it.

  "Kid, don't-" Rhaene started.

  But Aren, with the single-minded determination of a bull that had seen red, made his move. He squirmed against Rhaene's grip with surprising strength, and before she could tighten her hold, he launched himself a meter upwards, his small hand snatching one of the glowing tendrils, and the bike continuing to drive along past and underneath him.

  "ARBOR STOP!"

  Arbor slammed the brakes. Beauty skidded to a halt in a cloud of dust. By the time they'd stopped, Aren was already coming down with the sky jelly still in his grip, and immediately shoved the glowing, wriggling thing into his mouth. Whole.

  "KID!" Rhaene screamed, lunging off the bike to grab him.

  She landed, stumbled, rolled, and caught the falling boy on her chest.

  She coughed as the air was knocked out of her lungs and rolled Aren right off her stomach.

  Aren plopped into the dirt and sat up, cheeks puffed out, eyes wide with the particular expression of a child who knows they've done something wrong, but won't admit to it.

  Arbor was there a second later, his heavy footsteps crunching on the hardpan. "What did I just say about ingesting things?"

  Aren clamped his jaw shut. His cheeks, lit from within by the struggling Sky Jelly, pulsed with soft blue light.

  Rhaene stared, her expression a mix of feigned anger and barely-suppressed laughter. "Looks like he's a natural-born fool."

  "The subject has ingested a mildly toxic atmospheric filter-feeder and is now refusing to relinquish it," Arbor stated, kneeling beside Rhaene. "Open your mouth."

  Aren shook his head, a small, defiant motion.

  Rhaene reached up and gently pried at his jaw. Aren's teeth were clamped with surprising force. "C'mon, kid, spit it out. That thing's gonna make you sick."

  A tiny, glowing tentacle poked out between his lips. Aren tried to bite down, but Rhaene's fingers were in the way. After a bit more prying and prodding, she managed to get her fingers into Aren's mouth, prying the coffin open, but she didn't have a free hand to grab the sky jelly.

  "Little help here?"

  Arbor reached into Aren's mouth with careful, precise fingers and gently extracted the struggling Sky Jelly. It came out in a tangle of glowing slime, looking significantly more bedraggled than before. Arbor set it on the ground, where it pulsed weakly for a moment before floating back up into the air, trailing indignantly away from the terrifying ground-monsters that had tried to eat it.

  Aren, now empty-mouthed and defeated, stared after his escaping prize. His lower lip trembled. Then, with a ferocity that startled them both, he grabbed Rhaene's hand, the one still in his mouth, and bit down again, harder this time.

  "OW-well, not ow, I've had worse, but-kid!" Rhaene yelped.

  Aren shook his head like a dog with a toy, his eyes squeezed shut in fury.

  Rhaene looked at Arbor, her expression caught between pain and laughter. "He's- he's really mad we took his glow-snack-"

  "Your observation is accurate. He is currently expressing displeasure through aggressive oral fixation."

  Aren bit harder.

  Rhaene lost it. She burst out laughing, loud and genuine in the empty badlands, even as her hand was being mauled by a tiny, furious child. "Okay, okay, I get it, you're angry! Let go, you little...," Rhaene took a second to contemplate on an animal. ", you little globrat!"

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Arbor watched the scene unfold, his processors cycling through appropriate responses and helpful prior information. After a moment, he found what he needed. He strode down to Aren and gently tapped a pressure point on the bottom of Aren's jaw. The boy's mouth opened reflexively, releasing Rhaene's hand.

  Aren looked up at Arbor, betrayed. Then he grabbed Arbor's metal finger, the one that had poked his jaw, and bit that instead.

  "That must cause physical pain," Arbor observed.

  Rhaene burst out laughing. "He's just like I was! Mama always told me I was a biter. Reason why she had me on formula so early. True Story"

  "Your amusement and anecdote are noted and minimally helpful"

  ---

  An hour later, as the last light faded and the Sky Jellies became the only illumination in the darkening sky, they found a cliff underpass. It was a natural formation, a massive slab of rock that had cracked and tilted, creating a sheltered overhang against the base of a low cliff. The ground beneath was dry, protected from the wind, and the approach was narrow enough to defend if anything came sniffing.

  Arbor killed the engine and sat for a moment in the sudden silence. Rhaene dismounted, still cradling Aren, who had finally exhausted his biting spree and was now just sulking against her chest.

  "Alright, kid. Ground time." She set him down, and he immediately toddled to the edge of the overhang, peering out at the darkening badlands, then back at the rock wall behind them, running his small hands over its textured surface.

  Rhaene busied herself with camp setup, dragging a few loose rocks into a rough circle and pulling a bundle of kindling from one of Beauty's saddlebags. She produced a battered lighter and soon had a small fire crackling, its warmth a welcome contrast to the cooling night air.

  Arbor unpacked supplies. Nutrient paste packets. A container of water. The remaining meat sticks, slightly worse for wear.

  Aren, drawn by the fire, crept closer and sat cross-legged at a safe distance, watching the flames dance with that same intense, analytical focus he gave everything. The sulkiness was gone, replaced by curiosity.

  They ate in companionable silence. Rhaene showed Aren how to squeeze the nutrient paste directly into his mouth, which he attempted with moderate success and maximum mess. The meat stick was accepted with slightly less suspicion than before.

  When the immediate hunger was satisfied, Rhaene leaned back against a rock, staring into the flames. The firelight played across her face, softening the hard edges. For a moment, she looked almost peaceful.

  "Y'know," she said, her voice quiet in the night, "when I was a kid, Cid and I used to do this. Sneak out into the wasteland around our settlement. Build a fire. Tell stories." A ghost of a smile. "She was always the one with the stories. I was just the fire maker."

  Arbor sat opposite her, his form a dark silhouette against the fire. "Your family structure is... Correction: You have spoken little of your origins."

  "Not much to tell. Demon settlement, middle of nowhere. Parents worked, we ran wild. Standard wasteland childhood." She shrugged. "Cid was always the smart one. Got that from our grandfather. I got the strength from our dad. She went into chems, I went into punching. Worked out okay."

  Aren, who had been listening with the intense focus he gave everything, crawled closer to Rhaene. He sat beside her, leaning slightly against her arm, his eyes still on the fire.

  Rhaene glanced down at him. "What about you, gremlin? Got any stories from before the basement?"

  Aren looked up at her. For a long moment, his face was unreadable. Then he pointed at the fire, then at himself, then made a soft, sad sound—a tiny, mournful "oh."

  Rhaene's expression softened. "Yeah. Me neither, kid. Me neither."

  They sat in silence for a while, the fire crackling, the Sky Jellies drifting overhead like slow-motion fireworks. Arbor ran a diagnostic scan, more out of habit than necessity. Everything was nominal. Everything was... peaceful.

  Eventually, Rhaene started telling a story. Not a happy one, not a sad one—just a story. About a job gone wrong in a settlement called Dustgrave, about a three-day chase through salt flats and abandoned mines, about the moment she finally cornered her mark and he offered her double to let him go.

  "I took the deal," she said, a rueful grin on her face. "Arbor was pissed. Said it compromised 'operational integrity.' But you know what? That double paid for Beauty's engine rebuild. Some things are worth more than integrity."

  Arbor's optic lights flickered. "I calculated that accepting the bribe would lead to a 23% increase in future targeting by that individual's associates. The increase did occur. It required 1.7 additional missions to offset the threat level."

  "And we got a better engine out of it. See? Win-win."

  Aren, who had been slowly sagging against Rhaene's side as the story went on, was now fighting a losing battle against sleep. His eyes kept closing, then snapping open, then closing again for longer. The firelight painted his small face in warm oranges and golds.

  Rhaene noticed. Her voice softened, the story trailing off. "Alright, kid. Bedtime."

  She shifted, trying to find a comfortable position to lean against the rock, with Aren tucked against her. But every time she moved, he stirred, his small face scrunching in sleepy displeasure.

  Arbor rose, his movements quiet. He retrieved a folded thermal blanket from Beauty's supplies, one of the practical purchases he'd insisted on, and draped it over both of them. Then he sat back down, his back against the rock wall on the opposite side of the dying fire.

  The fire crackled down to embers. The Sky Jellies drifted overhead, their soft light the only illumination besides the fading coals. The badlands stretched dark and empty in all directions.

  Rhaene stared into the fading glow. "Hey, Tinman."

  "Query."

  "You ever think about what you'd do after? After you get your fancy chip?"

  Arbor was silent for a moment. "My programming is oriented toward that goal. Post-acquisition parameters are... undefined."

  "Undefined." She snorted softly. "That's a fancy way of saying you don't know."

  "I do not know," he admitted. The words seemed to cost him something. "The chip would optimize my processing. It would eliminate... inefficiencies. But the parameters of existence beyond that optimization are not calculable with current hardware."

  "Yeah." Rhaene's voice was soft. "Welcome to being alive, Tinman. Nobody's got a manual."

  A small sound interrupted them. A sniffle. Then another. Then a full, hiccupping sob from the small bundle against Rhaene's side.

  She was instantly alert, leaning over. "Hey, hey, what's wrong? Bad dream? Did something bite you?"

  Arbor was already moving, scanning for threats, for environmental hazards, for anything that might have disturbed the child. But there was nothing. No predators. No noise. No danger.

  Rhaene reached down, her hand hovering over Aren's small, trembling form. Before she could touch him, his hand shot out and grabbed hers with surprising strength. His eyes, wet with tears, blinked open. He looked at her hand, clutched in his small grip, and then up at her face.

  The crying stopped. A wobbly, uncertain smile spread across his tear-streaked face. He pulled her hand closer, hugging it against his chest like a stuffed animal, his tiny fingers wrapped around her much larger ones. His eyes fluttered closed again, his breathing evening out into the slow, steady rhythm of sleep.

  Rhaene froze, her hand captured. She looked across the dying fire at Arbor, her expression a complicated mix of surprise, confusion, and something softer that she'd never admit to.

  "He's..."

  She just glanced at Arbor and back at Aren.

  Arbor's optic lights dimmed slightly. "Affirmative. Physical contact appears to provide security and comfort. It is an illogical but observed behavioral pattern in juvenile homo sapiens."

  Rhaene stared at the small, sleeping face, peaceful now, her hand clutched to his chest. The calloused fighter, the woman who'd punched her way through clown cars and demon lords, was held hostage by a sleeping toddler.

  "Frag me," she whispered, but there was no heat in it.

  She didn't pull her hand away. She couldn't. Not when that small, trusting grip was the only thing keeping the nightmares at bay.

  Arbor settled back against the wall, his optics fixed on the pair across the embers. A long, slow cycle of his processors produced a single, unauthorized conclusion:

  This unit is experiencing something outside its operational parameters. Designation: unknown. Priority: high.

  The fire died to embers. The Sky Jellies danced overhead. And in the shelter of the cliff underpass, a robot, a demon, and a feral child found something none of them had been looking for: a moment of perfect, fragile peace.

  It wouldn't last. Nothing ever did. But for now, in the warm dark of the badlands night, it was enough.