Overclocked -CH17- (Patreon)

Wrench snorted, turned his face away from whatever was breathing on him, and then rolled to the side.

“Go away,” he grumbled to what he assumed was the Grae.

They were a very curious and aggressive species, though not that violent.

Most of the time the violence that could occur with them was entirely due to a Hume trying to get back what’d been taken. If you eliminated that variable, and never had anything a Grae wanted, there weren’t and conflicts.

Once more he felt the warm snuffling breath creeping over his neck and shoulder.

Grunting, Wrench reached up and put his hand up. He felt the Grae’s face against his hand and palm. Their slightly firmer than Hume skin resisting his touch.

“Get off. I don’t have anything,” Wrench continued. “I made sure we don’t have anything you’d want. Go climb a tree or something.”

The Grae sniffed at his hand that was against it’s face.

Then it turned it’s head and experimentally put it’s teeth to his palm.

“Aaaghh… really? Do you have to?” complained Wrench as the Grae gnawed lightly at his skin. He could feel it’s tongue dart out against his skin once as if to taste test him.

It finally seemed to understand that he wasn’t food, didn’t have anything it wanted, and was boring. It drew away after releasing his hand.

Wrench heard it clamber into the foliage and back into the depths of the Aerial-Hab.

Except now he was wide awake.

Today is gonna suck.

Not in the fun way either.

More in the “shitty repair work, without the right parts, or people” kind of suck.

Fuck.

Now I’m thinking of Duchess or Dusky sucking on me in a fun way.

Or Pistol or Popsicle.

Damnit.

Stupid fucking Grae.

Damn.

Snickering to himself, Wrench forced himself to a sitting position. The blanket falling away from him. There was no point in laying here any longer if his mind had decided it was time to be awake.

Glancing to the Hab-glass he found that it wasn’t quite “waking hours” yet. There was no real light coming in from outside and the Hab-lights weren’t on either.

At least this isn’t one of those Habs where the Tongsta literally does it manually. I’ve heard they can sometimes forget to turn it on and the Hab stays dark all day.

Looking out into the Aerial-Hab, he found a Grae not far off. It was dangling from a vine.

Watching him.

He couldn’t tell if it was the one that honked at him the night previous, or the one that’d just been sniffing him.

For all he knew they all looked the same and had a similar appearance. That one and all if you lined them up, you’d never be able to tell them apart without being part of their species.

Then again, I only have the one experience with them, and what I learned from others.

I’m basing everything on a very small amount of information.

Glancing to his side, he found Stripe sleeping quietly. Her back was pressed to the wall and her feet to another. She was in the corner of the balcony up here, and a considerable distance away from him.

Sleeping. Alright.

“Hey, you don’t understand shit, right?” Wrench asked the Grae, watching it to see if there was any change at all.

There wasn’t any.

“Right. Nothing,” Wrench remarked and nodded his head. “You’ve got a great body by the way. Not human, obviously but… there’s an appeal to it.

“Not to mention… well… four boobs. That’s amazing. Boobs are great.”

Or… or being in a young man’s body is overwhelming my experience and senses.

Ha.

Alright, time to start the day.

Wrench picked himself up, settled his clothes the best he could, then went down into the ducts.

The stairwell was quiet as a tomb as he proceeded downward.

When he reached the common areas of the ducts, he yet still heard nothing. The mechanical sound of the Oxygenator was of course missing. There was no slight rattle and thump to airflow being pushed through the actual duct-work. Nor was there any click or tap of Fixers working.

Standing there in the hallway that led to all the separate areas, Wrench considered what to do.

They’d put in the request for things to the Tongsta, but there was no telling when they’d provide the materials. It could be days, if not weeks.

The Tongsta perceived time very differently than Humes did.

Clicking his tongue, Wrench decided to try out the plan he’d had last night.

There’d been a significant amount of sealant available. It wasn’t ideal for a Oxygenator, but he could probably use it to fix the valves temporarily. Or at least, long enough for the materials to be made available.

“Damn, now I miss the Fabricator. Ha. I’m a spoiled bitch already,” Wrench muttered with a laugh. Then he headed off toward the depot area.

He had a few things to prepare and get ready. He’d also have to teach all the Fixers here about what he was planning so they could maintain it till the parts showed up.

Gadget and the others surprised him.

They showed up even before he’d gotten the first barrel of sealant open.

Given how they’d filed in, behaved around one another, and conducted themselves the day previously, he was relatively sure that Gadget had them all pining for her.

That each and every one of these Fixers would offer her an agreement once she hit her majority.

It’d been a thought weighing on his thoughts in the back of his mind. Nagging at his thoughts and his concerns for his Hab and the longevity of it.

While Goodie seemed perfectly content to have him be the only male in the Hab, it wasn’t actually a valid solution. There would need to be other males so that a viable population could be maintained.

Wrench would be the first one to admit he wanted multiple women for himself. To have multiple partners that were there for him alone.

He was a simple man, with simple desires, and an understanding of his own dark desires. He was smart enough to know he was stupid compared to many.

Yet even then, he knew there’d need to be other men his his Hab.

If he could talk Gadget and a male of her choosing to come to his Hab, that would be ideal. Maybe the other Fixers, too. Take them all with him and make Dickhead get more. More knowledgeable ones.

That seemed unlikely though unless he somehow convinced Dickhead that these Fixers weren’t very good.

Something to work on later.

“Morning,” Wrench said and nodded his head at Gadget. She’d been the last to arrive. “We’re going to do some kludge repairs. Do what we can to try and move the Hab to a better spot while waiting for parts.

“We’ll use Hab sealant to plug the holes in the existing valves. Then run the Oxygenator at a low production level. It won’t solve the issue by any means, but it can at least start moving us in the right direciton.

“We’ll just have to monitor the fix and see how much it can handle before the sealant starts to bubble.

“And that’s what’ll happen by the way. It’ll make a big ass bubble once it loses it’s ability to withstand the forces being exerted inside the valves. We’ll just watch that and go from there. Shouldn’t be too bad.

“Questions before we start?”

“Uhm,” said one of the men. Wrench had either forgotten his name or never gotten it. “Is it… unlikely we’ll get the parts today?”

“Dunno. Depends on the Tongsta. There are some that’d just let the Hab die, fix it, then refill it with Hume later. Some that would get the parts yesterday as soon as we put in the request. It’s different for every single one of them.

“They can be very Hume like. Sometimes, at least. Sometimes. We can’t really account for them. We just do the best we can in what way we can.

“Also… also… how would you all feel about coming back with me to my Hab? If I can make it happen, would you want to?”

Wrench had blurted out the words even before his brain could register he was saying them.

The more he thought about it, the more he wanted all these Fixers to come with him.

They’d help stabilize his Habs future Hume population.

“I’d go,” answered the male that’d asked him the question with confidence.

“Uh?” Gadget asked, blinking and staring at him in surprise. “Yes? Yes. I would want to go. Yeah.”

The other Fixers nodded their heads after that.

“Alright. If I can make it happen, I will. You can all come back with me to my Hab. I might try to convince Dickhead that you’re terrible though and need to be replaced,” Wrench explained. “That alright?”

“Fine by me,” answered the young-man with a sharp nod of his head. “The Brawlers here fed my dad and uncle to the Crockish. I’m done with this place. Would be happy to leave.

“I’m Swifty, by the way. I didn’t… I didn’t introduce myself yesterday. Wasn’t sure if you were an enemy or not.”

“I get it,” Wrench muttered with a shake of his head. “Brawlers more often than not are a bunch of shit-heads. Not much you can do about it. Join’em, fight’em, or hide.”

“Or fuck them,” offered Gadget with a laugh. “Though female Brawlers are really rare. It’s a lot easier for female Hume to deal with Brawlers. My mom used to just give them a quick go to get them to leave us alone for a while.

“She always said it was the cost of not partnering with a man for her. Anyways, should we get started on the repairs?”

Not for the first time, Wrench once again considered the resistance and their goals.

He agreed with their wants.

With their stated end game.

There just wasn’t any way they’d ever be able to actually fight the Tongsta.

No one should have to barter themselves off like that. Just to be left alone and have their lives intact. So that they’re not killed out of hand for no reason at all.

Bad enough we trade to one another just to have a partner and kids, worse still that we do it just prevent injury or worse.

***

Wrench took a step back from the Oxygenator and then gestured to the mechanic panel.

“Looks like the bubble is definitely forming now. It isn’t expanding quickly, but it’s obvious that it’ll fail given enough time,” he explained and wiped a wrist across his brow. He’d been head deep in the machine for the better part of an hour as they slowly increased the efficiency. “That’s our cut point then. Twenty percent of normal production. It’s not enough to actually… fix… the Hab, but enough to make it easier to live in the Hab.

“We’ll just have to wait for more parts. It’s a shame there’s no left-over parts from previous fixes. Try to hang onto those in the future just in case.

“If we’d had them, we could have cut inserts for the valves and just sealed them in place. They have a better pressure rating than the sealant does for a flat space, obviously.”

Gadget immediately stuck her head into the panel.

Swifty nodded to Wrench’s words.

“Hopefully it won’t be an issue and that we don’t have to stay here,” he said with a sigh. “I think I’d very much rather be in another Hab.

“Also… ah… where did you sleep last night? We didn’t see you in the ducts or pens. Only when you were talking to Pistol and Popsicle, then you left.”

“Aerial-Hab,” Wrench answered and then let out a long breath. He was hungry. More so than he thought considering he’d skipped breakfast and went straight into work.

It was probably about time to each lunch so he could at least get something hot.

“You slept in the Aerial-Hab?” asked one of the other young-men. “Aren’t you afraid of the Grae?”

“No. They’re not an issue for me or Stripe,” Wrench answered quickly, though he didn’t elaborate further. Food was the most pressing concern on his mind.

Pivoting he nearly ran over Stripe.

The young woman was right behind him, in fact.

She held up a tray that had a plate on it. In the center of said plate was a sandwich of some sort. To the side was a bowl of soup. At the edge was a cup of what smelled like coffee.

On the far side of the tray were two oat-bars.

Oooh, lovely.

Perfect.

“Here you go, Wrench,” Stripe offered with a wide smile. “I thought you’d be hungry since you skipped breakfast. I already ate, so please don’t hesitate at all.”

Wrench gratefully took the tray then moved to the wall and sat down with it.

As he sat down, Stripe plopped down on the ground next to him. She tented her fingers, glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, then looked back to the other Fixers.

Wasting no time, Wrench neatly devoured the sandwhich in no time at all. Taking bites large enough that he had to be careful when he swallowed for fear of choking on it.

No sooner than he’d wolfed it down than he picked up the soup bowl and just began drinking from it.

“Oh, dear,” Stripe whispered almost to herself. Even as he let the bowl fall away from his mouth Wrench realized he’d spilled a bit.

Before he could grab the napkin and wipe it up, he found Stripe had beat him to it. She was dabbing at the corner of his mouth.

In a way that made his heart flutter and leave him somewhat confused. Unsure of what to do or how to respond to her.

This wasn’t the overly-friendly nature of the School or the blatant advances for trades that Popsicle and Pistol had offered him.

Stripe had offered him nothing, asked for nothing, and was just helping him.

“Thanks,” Wrench croaked out once Stripe had finished. She held onto the napkin, put her hands back in her lap, and nodded her head.

But said nothing.

There was a clunk that made the Hab jolt a fraction. Followed by a loud hiss of something depressurizing, then pressurizing.

“Shit, did Dickhead actually get the supplies already?” Wrench asked. Snatching an oat-bar he stood up, then hustled off to the air-lock.

Unfortunately in this Hab, the air-lock was also where the filter was, but also where the Tongsta would load any supplies, new decor, and anything else.

It was the only point in or out of the Hab.

Unlike Goodie’s where she could quite literally put things into the loading bay directly.

Exiting the ducts Wrench got out into the field in only a few seconds. As he stood there, he watched as Dickhead shook a carrier back and forth. Rushing Humes out and into the Hab.

There was a great number of Brawlers, Solos, and a whole School.

They ran the full gamit as to how they looked. From beautiful, to homely, to downright ugly. As if Dickhead had just collected them all from where-ever they could find them.

“Great,” muttered Swifty. “Just great. Brawlers. Didn’t even last a day with them being so calm.”

Wrench snorted at that, took a bite from his oat-bar and began marching forward.

He planned on going up to the glass and yelling at Dickhead.

“Hey! Dickhead!” shouted Wrench, waving his left arm back and forth over his head. Dickhead clearly noticed him as their body partly turned away from the air-lock.

“Oh, it’s xxhht,” grumbled Dickhead. “Look, I know, you don’t like males or Brawlers. Try not to kill many of them. If you do, just throw their bodies to the Crockish, that’d at least help.”

“Fine. I’ll probably kill a few just to make sure they understand who’s in charge,” stated Wrench. “Also, I’m keeping your damn Fixers. They’re going to come with me when I leave with Goodie.”

Wrench paused at the glass and stood there, eating his oat-bar.

“Stripe, too. Maybe Pistol. I like her,” Wrench continued. “Not sure of Popsicle. She’s a bit too willing to be a toy. Don’t need a toy.”

There wasn’t anyone close enough to hear him, but he knew that the Tongsta would hear him.

For some reason, they always knew if you were talking, though they couldn’t understand. Never really could figure out what a Hume said.

I wonder if it’s a vibrational thing.

That’s interesting.

“Whatever,” growled Dickhead. “Because of you I have to send a bunch of xxhht Brawlers to the games.”

Wait, the games?

The Brawler games? They’re now?

I have to go!

That’d make our Hab even better.

“Send me,” Wrench interjected suddenly. He didn’t even have to think about it. He could earn a great deal of prestige in the games. If he won those, Goodie would gain a great deal of status. He slapped his chest with his left hand. “Send me. I’ll go on Goodie’s behalf but in your name.”

He wasn’t concerned that Dickhead would try to keep him.

If they tried, he’d make the Hab a living hell for Dickhead.

“What?” asked Dickhead. “What do you want? Threatening to kill my new Hume already?”

Wrench sighed, then pointed to himself repeatedly while shaking his head.

“Hmm? What is it, Wrenchie? My little spssss,” Goodie said, appearing beside Dickhead.

Oh thank fuck. Thank fuck!

“Ah! Goodie! Send me to the games. I’ll kick everyone’s ass, but I want a reward,” Wrench stated then pointed back toward the ducts. “I want Stripe, Gadget, and the other Fixers. Send me to the games and give me them.”

“What’d you say to him just before he started talking?” Goodie prompted.

“I… ah… I brought up the Brawler games for the xxhht,” Dickhead said.

“Yes! Send me to that!” declared Wrench, thumping his chest with his hand several times while nodding his head. “Then reward me!”

“Hmmm? You… want to go to the games?” Goodie asked, moving in closer to the Hab. “But, aren’t you fixing the Hab?”

“Already fixed. Need parts,” Wrench called, noddin ghis head rapidly. “Send me to the games!”

“You fixed it? Did he put anything into the system?” Goodie asked, clealry directly at Dickhead.

“Uh, yeah. Bunch of xxhht and what not,” Dickhead grumbled.

“Great! Get everything listed. Now… are you sure you want to go to the games, my perfect Wrenchie?” asked Goodie.

“Yes! I want rewards!” Wrench confirmed with large nods of his head. He pointed back to the ducts again that was behind him and slightly above him. Most fields were on an incline so they’d drain. “Reward me for this work, and for going to the games!”

“I don’t get it,” Dickhead muttered.

“He wants to go to the games and wants rewards. Because he’s my ultra special spssss,” Goodie purred. “My Wrenchie. Okay!

“We’ll send you to the games. I’ll reward you heavily if you win. Okay? Lots of rewards. Win for me and I’ll make it all happen.”

“Perfect,” Wrench murmured, glancing over to the incoming new Humes.

Surprisingly, he saw Chuckles and Freckles.

For one reason or another, they were here now.

Dismissing them from his mind, Wrench took another bite of his oat-bar, and began heading back for the ducts.

He needed to over-eat thousands upon thousands of calories and begin shaping his body. He didn’t have much time he imagined.

So he had to start right now.