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Elliot looked from the one-gallon bucket in his hands to the growth of alien popperweed in the emptied storage closet. The bucket was much too small to cover it. Ventilated air breezed past, carrying the smell of cleaning chemicals and the sound of Hubcap chattering on about his plan for tackling the rogue weed. The robot was the picture of confidence. Elliot, however, had done a stint of professional yard work between auditions, along with tending a garden or two of his own, and he had significant doubts.
The plant was enormous and volatile. Its leaves spread like an extra-feathery fern colored in anemic yellows, and the long stems held poppers in the final stages of ripening: rust-red seeds peeked through the seams of the long fruits. This thing had grown remarkably well for something hidden in the back of a closet.
Hubcap held out a hand. “Gimme the bucket. I’ve got this.”
“If you say so,” Elliot said, passing it over. “Did I tell you about the time I fell into a Peruvian pricker bush? And how many prickers I had to get off my clothes, skin, and hair?”
“Nope!” Hubcap said cheerfully. He brandished a pair of wire-cutting shears. “I have none of those things. Shoo.”
“On your head be it,” Elliot announced. “I’ll be out here with the door closed.”
Anrik chuckled from the doorway. “I’m sure you can handle it just fine,” he said to Hubcap. “Your reflexes are bound to be better than ours. And yeah, no clothes to get the bits caught in! I tell you, nothing’s more annoying than getting stuck with popperweed duty only to track the things into your own living quarters. They’re ungodly sticky.”
Elliot edged past Anrik to join the camera crew in the hall, where they were monitoring the screens of two remote-control rigs.
Before Anrik closed the door, Hubcap spoke up. “I have only one question.”
“What’s that?” Anrik asked.
“Is every plant on this world explosive?”
“Nope, just the fun ones.” Anrik backed out the door with a smile. “Good luck!”
The door clicked shut, echoing from the two viewscreens. Elliot took a position at Vic’s elbow to watch as Hubcap turned to regard his adversary. The robot angled his metal eyebrows into his best determined scowl and approached the popperweed.
Anrik had described the complicated steps that the workers usually took to remove the weeds, using tarps, tape, and several people. Elliot would have liked to use the trusted methods, but he’d been outvoted. Hubcap had made a convincing case that this way made better television. Surely he could snip the stems without setting the poppers off, and pin everything between the bucket and the floor rather than the corner that the plant was smugly occupying at the moment. Surely.
Elliot knew full well that the robot had never trimmed a plant before, but it was Vic’s choice as director, and the tall woman had been grinning when she gave him the go-ahead. The people in charge of casting hadn’t shared their reasons, but Elliot was fairly sure that this sort of shenanigans was what they’d had in mind when hiring the two co-hosts. Elliot had the levelheaded demeanor and the TV experience, while Hubcap had the enthusiasm.
It’s a good thing we emptied the closet first, Elliot thought. Just in case those phenomenal robotic skills aren’t up to doing this without a mess.
He watched as Hubcap settled on a line of attack. The robot knelt on one knee with the bucket clamped in place with his other leg (something that Elliot winced at on behalf of his own knees), then positioned the bucket as best he could. It was still far too small, but it would catch some of the seedsplosion. With all the care of a surgeon, Hubcap lined up the shears and closed his metal fingers around the bundle of stems.
Elliot stifled a laugh as red seeds exploded in all directions. The first popper set off the others in a rolling cacophony of tiny impacts, thundering into the bucket and peppering the robot as well as the walls. The camera crew managed to keep their reactions to a professional volume. Anrik brayed with amusement.
On the viewscreen, Hubcap held his position until all the popping was done. Then he snipped through the stem bundle and trapped the spent weeds under the bucket.
“I got it!” he called through the door.
Elliot swung the door open with cameras behind him, and he burst into laughter as he surveyed the scene. “You sure did!” he said. “You got it right in the face. Can you even see?”
Red seeds covered the robot’s eye sensors along with the rest of him. Hubcap turned his head toward the wall. “Who said that?”
Anrik appeared at the door with a wet cloth, saying nothing but grinning widely. Hubcap accepted this and wiped his face with dignity. Anrik produced more wet cloths and a pair of squeegees.
Elliot joined him in tackling the walls. “So, Peruvian pricker bushes,” Elliot said. The cameras filmed from the corners and the doorway. His voice was calm, measured, and full of amusement. “They’re an accidental success of a hedge, cultivated for their berries and kept as an effective deterrent to trespassers. Depending on the season, a plunge into one of those might land you in the hospital. I was lucky, and only got the small prickers.”
Elliot and Anrik traded anecdotes about disobedient plant life while they cleaned the closet and Hubcap cleaned himself. This sort of talk made for more interesting footage, a better rapport with the show’s guest stars, and it made the experience more enjoyable for everyone.
Plus it made Hubcap roll his eyes each time Elliot came out with yet another story about things he had done or seen. “You did not have seeds sprout in your shoes,” the robot said. “You made that up.”
“They really did!” Elliot insisted. “I’d walked through newly-seeded soil and got a bunch jammed in the treads, then left the boots outside in what turned out to be a really damp area. I forgot where I’d put the boots, and by the time I found them, there was a tiny crop of sprouts growing from the bottom. They were lying on their sides, see, and got just enough sun.”
“Sure they did.”
All told, the adventure took less than an hour, which left them with more free time before dinner. Anrik had another idea. Once the weedy mess was bundled away into the trash and the brooms and whatnot were put back in the closet, Anrik led the way eagerly toward a different part of the compound.
There was something else just perfect to throw a robot at.
“So, how alien would you say these creatures look?” Elliot asked as they walked, with cameras trained on the conversation. These hallways were color-coded differently from the last, but were otherwise identical. “On a scale of ‘cutesy puppy’ to ‘tentacle horror’?”
“Eh, tentacle frog?” Anrik replied. “They’re weird looking, but not too bad. Just don’t touch ’em without gloves.”
“That toxic?” Elliot asked.
“I’ll say yes, shockingly toxic,” Anrik said. “I wasn’t around for the initial discovery of the little critters, but I would bet you money that there were fatalities. And they’re not even aggressive; you just can’t touch them.”
“Until you need to, for science.” Elliot looked over his shoulder. “You ready to wash some tentacle frogs, Invulnerable One?”
But Hubcap wasn’t there.
A confused moment later, his voice could be heard down an adjoining hallway, with the distinct tone of taking someone to task. “Prop that up this instant; it’s about to fall over. And who decided to store this medicine on its side? The sediment will clog the applicator. Do you lack the strength to lift — here, let me do it. Honestly. Humans.”
Vic and Elliot spun to follow the sound.
Anrik smothered a curse. “What is he doing?” he demanded. “He’s not allowed in there. I’m not allowed in there!” He pointed at the orange stripe on the wall. “I only took us around the back as a shortcut!”
Elliot let Vic handle Anrik’s questions, tuning them both out. He’d reached a door that was just swinging shut, with an indignant robot and confused humans on the other side. He didn’t bother to read the sign over it. “I’ll get him,” he said to Vic. “You guys stay out here. Let’s not make it worse.” He slipped inside to a well-lit room that smelled of antiseptic.
Hubcap was fastening tongue depressors to an IV hose with medical tape, while chastising the medical professionals for not fixing the kink in the line earlier. “Using partially-activated cooling gel is one thing, but there is no excuse for this. The patient is unconscious and would not notice that the medicine isn’t reaching her, and I will NOT have that on my conscience.”
A man standing behind him was insisting that he’d been about to fix the problem himself, but Hubcap wasn’t convinced.
“Hubcap,” Elliot said from the doorway. “This isn’t your job.”
The robot pointed a tongue depressor at him. “It still needs to be done.”
“I think they can handle it now.” Elliot looked from Hubcap to the woman on a gurney with bandages on her arms, to the half dozen people in medical scrubs wearing expressions that ranged from confusion to suppressed anger.
“Will you get him out of here?” exploded a man with his arms full of medicine bottles. “He just waltzed in and—”
An older woman with an air of authority made calming gestures and the man shut his mouth with a click of teeth. “Your expertise is appreciated,” the woman said to Hubcap. “We have things under control. You may go back to your previous task with a clear conscience.”
Hubcap muttered and strapped more tape in place, then set the supplies on a desk and moved toward the door. He turned back to push the tongue depressors farther from the edge, and left with his head held high. “Do your best, humans. I’ll be around if you need me.”
Elliot held the door open for him. While Hubcap fended off attention from the camera crew and a distraught Anrik, Elliot waved apologetically and whispered “Sorry.”
Before he could leave, the older woman pulled him aside. “I’ve trained with rescue bots,” she said in an undertone. “I always figured they’d be opinionated when off the clock. See if you can keep an eye on him, all right?”
“Yes ma’am,” Elliot agreed. “He’s been retired for longer than I’ve known him, but that doesn’t stop him butting in. And opinionated doesn’t begin to cover it.”
“I can see that. If I’d put in as much time as he probably has in getting humans out of self-inflicted predicaments, I’d be opinionated too.”
Elliot nodded. With another wave, he stepped outside and closed the door.
––––––––
Hubcap didn’t need protective gear for safety’s sake, but he’d learned long ago that it was easier to remove the gear than to wash his various seams and joints to perfection. So when the TV crew was barred entry to the new filming location unless they suited up with gloves, aprons, and long-sleeved plasticky clothes, he went along with it. Not without critiquing the fashion, of course.
“This is lovely,” Hubcap said. “Marshmallow mystique. Or Trashcan Liner Lifestyle.” He posed, modeling the white clothes under the room’s multicolored lighting: clear from the ceiling, blue and green from the various fish tanks that lined the walls. “This will be all the rage once our viewers catch sight of it, I’m sure.”
He hoped for witty banter from Elliot, since the cameras were coming online, but Elliot was deep in conversation with Vic and the local authority figure. A glance toward that side of the room showed a tall thin person of indeterminate gender but very stubborn body language. Apparently there was some convincing to be done if the duo were allowed to handle things they shouldn’t.
A sound of disgust pulled Hubcap’s attention back to the camera crew. Dale was coughing about a sudden smell, while Graham waved a hand in front of his face and Tarja tried to pin the blame on something in the tanks.
Hubcap blinked over to heat vision long enough to spot a warm patch of air, then shared his findings. “Let the evidence show,” he declared, “That there is a cloud of gas the exact temperature of a human’s insides following Tarja.” He pointed with a flourish.
The woman gave him a withering look while her coworkers exclaimed in amusement and Anrik chuckled from his seat next to a table full of more tanks.
“Thanks a lot, Hubcap,” Tarja said.
“You’re very welcome! Just putting my abilities to their intended use.”
She busied herself aiming her camera at the nearest blue tank. “Keep it up, and I am going to unscrew your feet.”
Hubcap barked a laugh and spun on his heel, striding over to thump down into a chair next to Anrik.
“I need my feet,” Hubcap told him.
“I’m sure you do!” Anrik said with a grin.
While the camera crew got to work filming background footage, a door opened with a clang, admitting a delicate twig of a human. Her hair was a pale green that certainly wasn’t factory standard. She wore gloves that reached her armpits, and she carried a sealed bucket that sloshed as she hauled it up onto the table by Hubcap and Anrik.
She gave them a nod of greeting. “‘Scuse me,” she said. “Food for these guys.”
Hubcap rotated in his chair. “Feeding time? Let’s get the cameras over here!”
The woman shook her head as Hubcap waved at the crew. “Not yet, just putting it here for later.”
“Oh. Pity.” Hubcap lowered his arm. “What do they eat?” He glanced at the pale blobby things in the tank while the woman wrenched open the bucket to show him.
“It’s a variety of plants,” she said, fishing out a handful of stringy seaweed. “This tank is all new captures, and we’re trying to find something they like.”
“Looks tasty,” Hubcap said. He peered into the bucket. “Leaves and stems and slimy, slimy water plants. Is that one tied in knots?”
The woman looked where he pointed and pulled up a tangled mess of waterweeds. She frowned. “That could explain why Ilsa didn’t get much gathered this morning. What a waste of time.” She tried to untangle the clump, only succeeding in freeing a couple strands that were studded with complicated knots. “Excuse me,” she said. “I need to have words with someone.” She gathered the dripping bundle and left with another curt nod.
“Well,” Hubcap said. “Guess we didn’t need to film that. Getting people in trouble isn’t good TV.”
“Not unless it turns out that the animals did it instead of the human!” Anrik said, spreading his fingers. “Big exposé: Scientist Blamed For Slacking Off, Discovers Knot-tying Talent In Wildlife!”
Hubcap pointed at the tank. “That wildlife?”
Anrik shrugged. “Eh, probably not.”
“Yeah, these barely have heads, much less hands.” Hubcap gave the slow-moving creatures inside the tank some proper scrutiny. They oozed through puffs of algae like apathetic snot balls — shapeless, yellow-white, and underwhelming. “These look nothing like frogs. Anrik, your eyes are broken.”
Anrik shrugged, adjusting the glove on his metal hand. “More like frogs than puppies.”
“So’s your mother,” Hubcap replied.
Anrik laughed at that. “Man, it must be a long time since I’ve talked with a robot if that surprised me. I would expect a ‘So is your maternal unit,’” he said, affecting an electronic voice.
Hubcap looked away from the heavily-reinforced glass tank to regard Anrik. “I’ve got to ask, are you sure there aren’t any other reasons why there are no robots here?”
“No, it really is just a matter of hiring new people,” Anrik said. “There’s pretty high turnover, with a ship every three months. That’s for supplies and passengers both, which is why things tend to break and stay broken.” He gave Hubcap a sidelong look. “Like medical equipment. Folks get creative with temporary fixes.”
“Hmf. I would have brought more duct tape if I’d known.”
“You lot aren’t staying the whole three months though, are you?” Anrik asked. “Don’t you have a special ship coming sooner than that?”
Hubcap nodded. “We’ve got two weeks. That should be enough to film material for several episodes, then we’re off to the next place while they edit the footage. I hear the next one’s an asteroid mining colony.”
“Is that the kind of thing you usually film? I haven’t even seen an ad for the show. Sorry. I’m sure it’s good.”
Hubcap waved a hand, turning back to stare into the tank. “We do whatever we can find that makes good TV, with people who will let us film there. Speaking of which, is that critter ... no, it stopped. I thought it was going to do something interesting.”
“I don’t think these do much at all,” Anrik said. “I’m mainly on jetpod duty, but I think they’re always pretty calm.”
“Yes, you get the glamorous job, wrangling dangerous things! You must be highly respected by the more sedentary types.”
Anrik shrugged. “Everything’s dangerous here, one way or another. We’re all just doing our jobs. Maybe the stories will be good for impressing folks Earthside, but I don’t see myself leaving anytime soon. It suits me. Your job though, is this your long-term plan? How did you end up with this gig?”
“I’m sticking with this as long as they’ll have me,” Hubcap said. He held a hand to his chest. “I was selected for my riveting personality and superior build. They wanted two co-hosts, so they settled on Elliot who is a calm and collected meatbag to balance out my excitement. And he used to be in professional sports, so he can keep up with me better than most.”
“Really? What sport?” Anrik gave Elliot an appraising glance. Hubcap followed his gaze. Clothed in badly-fitting protective wear, the wiry redhead didn’t look exceptionally athletic.
“Scatterball,” Hubcap said. “Gave it up when he hurt his knee or something. I think he planned to be a sportscaster first; he dabbled in a lot of things. But he’s still fast on his feet, which is good. And he’s never caught frenzy, which is more impressive given the places we’ve gone. There was one space station in particular that was downright deadly. They were running out of sedative, and you could see the panic in people’s eyes.”
“That sounds pretty terrible,” Anrik said. “We’re lucky here. Frenzy is a fact of life, but we make the dang sedatives, and they work well. Can’t remember the last time someone actually died.”
Hubcap nodded. “You are definitely lucky.” They were quiet for a moment, watching the blobby creatures ooze about their tank.
Anrik glanced at the robot beside him. “So,” he said. “I wouldn’t have guessed you had a background in rescue. Didn’t see a halo on you.” He gestured toward Hubcap’s chest plate, which was free of symbols.
An electronic snort was his reply. “I had that removed a long time ago. People came up to me with the stupidest problems.” He rapped knuckles on his chest. “Got a duct tape dispenser there now. And pockets for my own stuff, not just tools for fixing injured humans.”
“Must be nice.”
“So nice! I can even make expressions I wasn’t able to before. Got my eyebrows fixed.” He demonstrated by scowling fiercely, the brows rotating in place. His angular mouth gaped in a grin. “I can swear too. I usually don’t, ‘cuz I get yelled at if they have to censor me too much, but it’s nice to have the option now. You have no idea how much I wanted to on some of those rescues.”
“I bet!” Anrik said. “You probably didn’t mind leaving that behind, did you? How did you go from rescue to television, though?” he pressed. “Sorry if you’d rather not talk about it. I’m just curious.”
Hubcap shrugged. “Someone talked me into an audition. Thought I had TV potential after a video went viral of me being theatrically glad to be free.”
“‘Theatrically glad?’” Anrik’s eyes lit up. “Wait, you’re CurseBot 9000!”
“Oh, so you’ve seen it?”
“Ages ago! That was hilarious! I kept expecting you to run out of insults, but you kept on going. Makes sense that you’d been waiting years to say all that. So were you actually called ‘CurseBot,’ or—”
Hubcap shook his head. “No no, that was just the title that the enterprising meathead with the camera gave the video. And I wasn’t yelling at a specific person, mind you, just yelling in general. Getting it out of my system, you might say.”
“Because you finally could. Right.” Anrik leaned back with a smile. “Man, if I wasn’t allowed to complain at all, I’d do some yelling myself. People can be really stupid.”
“That they can! Especially when it comes to their own safety.”
Anrik smiled. “Kinda makes you want to shake ‘em like a bobblehead doll sometimes.”
Hubcap agreed heartily. “While asking the tough questions! Like ‘Why are you so dumb?’”
“‘Hey idiot, why’d you stick your head through a fence’?”
“And ‘Just because sledding off the roof didn’t kill you last time, it doesn’t mean you should do it again!' And ‘Why would you light a match to clear the smell of gasoline?’”
As they shared stories of boneheaded accidents, Elliot came over to join them. “Looks like we don’t get to handle the critters after all,” he said. “No one is surprised. But we can film a ‘Hey robots’ segment here.”
“Sure, let’s do it.” Hubcap stood tall and yodeled unnecessarily loudly to gather the camera crew.
Anrik rubbed his ears. “Hey, can you do that again? I think I can still hear a little on this side.”
“Don’t tempt him,” Elliot said while Hubcap smiled and arranged the shot.
“Maybe he can put that volume to use tomorrow on the big beasties,” Anrik suggested. “That ought to get their attention.”
“Will we need to attract them?” Elliot asked. Hubcap listened for the answer too.
Anrik shrugged, stepping out of camera range. “Maybe while they’re chewing on him, you can tackle them from behind.”