Dusty's Heist

[greenportal]

Title: Dusty's Heist
Fandom: Starbound
Characters: OC Dusty (Novakid), OC Soup (Novakid)
Pairings: Gen
Word Count: 3,379
Summary: Soup's origin story! When Dusty's mom and aunt mysteriously disappear, Dusty realizes his infant cousin will need his help to survive the coming winter.
Warnings: Child harm, Child abandonment
Author's Notes: Originally written on April 8th, 2018; reposted from Google Docs. Please note that while this story is safe for all ages, the Soup shorts are slightly darker and contain some heavier themes than the light and fluffy Soup comics posted elsewhere.

It had been four days since she disappeared. That's how he knew something was different this time.

Two days was somewhat common. Three days was rather unusual. Four days without so much as a phone call from his mother was what finally made Dusty realize something had happened.

He had been lying in bed when the realization hit him, woken up a few hours before dawn by a sharp, howling wind blowing against the sides of the covered wagon. It was likely a cold front moving in, and perhaps bringing the first snowfall of the season with it. The thick mooshi hide of the wagon was strong enough to keep most of the chill out for now, but it wouldn't last if the temperatures dropped too much farther.

Dusty didn't mind the cold much. His Novakid body was its own thermal generator. In a way he was like a small piece of a distant, yellow sun; broken off and carelessly dropped onto this gloomy planet. He let his arm hang over the side of the couch, the only bed he could call his own, and wiggled his fingers to watch the light and shadows dance across the uneven boards of the floor. He looked up to see if the wind billowing across the fabric ceiling would cause the same effect with his mother's glow, and finally noticed that her pale pink light was missing. Her cot was still folded up in the corner. Dusty merely stretched a little and started trying to count backwards to the last day he saw her.

Momma Axus always had a lot of skill at vanishing whenever it was convenient. It was too dangerous for her to stay in one place for long. She and her sister, Dusty's Aunt Nitro, were wanted criminals from here to the nearest constellation. It probably had been a much easier career before Dusty was around, simply hopping planets whenever the law enforcement on the current one got smart, but for the past 16 years she had been doing her best to balance her dangerous lifestyle with protecting her son. She had found a small patch of land on a quiet Savannah planet orbiting a frozen star, and used it as a home base to hide Dusty (and sometimes herself) from the law. She came back to visit as often as she could, and had never missed an important milestone like a birthday, and called every day when she was stuck on some backwater rock in another solar system. Yet for most of his life, Dusty had been alone.

Dusty was more worried for his mother's safety than his own. He'd had plenty of experience with cooking and tending the garden and mending the wagon, and was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Yet there was something else that bothered him as he thought about where his mother might be.

He had tried calling Aunt Nitro the day before, hoping that Axus was somewhere nearby and had simply forgotten her daily phone call, but no answer. For some reason his mind kept returning to that moment, and he had no explanation for it.

He stretched again and rolled onto his side, facing the back of the couch. The wind was still roaring overhead, but perhaps he could fall back asleep if he focused on how soft the cushions were, and how dark the corners of the room were, and how gently his woven blanket hugged him. If he focused on something else long enough he could almost tune out the wind, making it sound like a distant and gentle whisper. He imagined his limbs feeling lighter, thought of silence to stop his rambling thoughts, and while he had no eyes to close, he did notice his vision dimming as he started to drift off. Before he could doze off completely, he had one final thought.

Didn't Aunt Nitro have a baby a few months ago?

Dusty was suddenly awake again, and sat up to undo the effects of his sleeping efforts. Yes, he did remember that happening. He hadn't seen his aunt since then, but he did remember writing her a short letter of congratulations and asking his mom to deliver it for him. He remembered visiting her about a month before that when she announced it to his mother. Aunt Nitro had brought out a strange object that Dusty first thought was a toy plasma ball, and placed it on a cushion on the couch across from him. He felt a bit ashamed to ask about it, but was able to figure out through the context of their discussion that this was an unborn Novakid; a swirling mass of loose gasses, gathering around a tiny magnetized core that would eventually form itself into a brand. He remembered being fascinated by the object, losing track of the conversation as he watched the gasses beneath the fragile membrane twisting and changing colors. Sometimes they would form tiny storm clouds and spark for a few seconds before dissipating again. He tried staring at the glowing white core, and wondered if he could actually see it being forged and altered by the intense pressure inside the tiny sphere. He did remember that. All of that.

Now he had another worry. Four days on his own was no problem, he had plenty of canned soup and microwave macaroni to get by. His mom and aunt were grown women too, and while he was ready to prepare for the worst, he knew they were also capable of taking care of themselves wherever they were and whatever was happening to them. But a helpless Protokid? Trapped in an empty house for four days? They didn't stand a chance.

There was no way Dusty could sleep now. He tossed the blanket over the back of the couch and slowly stood up. The only window on the wagon was set in the front door, and while it seemed like the sun should be rising soon, he only saw the thick darkness of night outside. That didn't matter right now. Neither did the low whistling of the cold breeze. Nothing mattered besides getting to Aunt Nitro's house as quickly as possible.

He pulled on his warmest jacket and grabbed a lantern to help him get the hoverbike ready in the dark.

 

The sun had finished rising by the time he reached Aunt Nitro's long and winding driveway. Dusty could see it drifting between the trees, following him along the horizon watchfully. It seemed so fake, such a bright sun on such a bitterly cold day. The moist air tried to collect on the metal of his lambda-shaped brand but immediately evaporated from the heat of his body, leaving a hazy effect in his vision. All around him were crisp, brown fields stretching out to a dully mottled gray sky. It was hard to believe that the peak of the autumn colors had been a few weeks ago. Now the trees were mostly barren with a few clinging patches of dry leaves, creating a more monotone palette that made the drive seem even longer than usual. His own white shirt, brown jacket, and dull gray trousers didn't help the scene, but made his red hoverbike the only bright splash of color for miles.

There was plenty of time to think, at least. That was something he hadn't done much before he had left.

He had never met a Protokid before. He knew a little bit about them, mostly that they were sort of round and stubby-limbed things that spoke in chirps and strange noises until they learned how to talk. That was about it, though. But really, how much did he need to know? All he needed to do was make sure they were safe for a few days, and if Aunt Nitro really was gone for good there would surely be another home somewhere that could care for them. He repeated that to himself for the final stretch of the trip, hoping it would form itself into a more solid plan.

Aunt Nitro's old log cabin was looking particularly worn-down that morning. Nobody had swept the leaves off the porch or cleaned the spider webs from the rafters in at least a week. The grass across her property was starting to grow too, and was tall enough to hide a few small critters that scattered at the sight and sound of the hoverbike. Dusty couldn't get a good look at what any of them were, but none of them seemed big enough to be much of a threat. Though it did make him realize that he hadn't brought anything to protect himself, in case there was some dangerous wildlife keeping warm under the porch or something. As soon as he parked the bike at the end of the gravel road, he picked up a large rock and tucked it under his arm.

His first plan was a quick walk around the house. He wasn't entirely sure what to look for, but the highest items on the list were signs of life, a way inside, or any booby traps Aunt Nitro might have left for nosy cops. Along the way he flipped over every rock and yard ornament he saw, in case one of them had a key to the door hidden underneath.

The windows were too hard to see through, with the dark, murky interiors concealing everything inside. A particularly bad sign when looking for a glowing baby.

Dusty went around the cabin again. And again. Each time getting a little faster and a little more desperate. He rattled the windows and poked at any boards that seemed to be loose, and even knocked on the front door a few times just to say that he tried. Eventually he had enough. He would deal with the consequences later, but for now the rock was lifted over his head and tossed through the front picture window. The sound of the crash was so loud on that empty morning that it traveled all the way across the field and found a place to quietly echo back.

He leaned in through the new hole, careful to avoid the jagged glass edges that still hung from the top of the window.

“Hello?” He hadn't realized how nervous he was until he heard his own voice shaking, “Is anyone here? It's me, Aunt Nitro! It's Dusty!”

A few kicks to the remaining pane made the window easier to climb through without getting cut up. As he stepped inside the dark crimson carpet dulled the sound of glass shards crunching beneath his boots. It was almost dream-like, how far the sound of his footsteps seemed to be from his actual feet.

He began a slow sweep of the house. It was like the drive once again, where time was going at an odd pace and his every move seemed to take so much longer. The front room was a bit bare, a pair of couches and a low coffee table sitting in front of a wood stove that hadn't seen much use lately. Without it the cold had been seeping through every little crack in the walls and window sills, making the cabin's interior no warmer than the frost-covered exterior.

The kitchen had almost been cleaned. A pile of dishes around the sink were spotless, only waiting for someone to put them away. He opened a few cabinets and found nothing but the basic staples; some flour and salt and a bit of sugar. Anything that had been edible on its own was spoiled. Nothing he found showed any signs that a small child lived here. Dusty had assumed that there would be some kind of baby food at least.

The back room contained Aunt Nitro's bed. It looked as though it had been freshly made, with only a thin layer of dust revealing the truth. It took up most of the space inside, so Dusty didn't bother going in the room. He stood in the dark doorway feeling... well, a feeling. Perhaps it was disappointment mixed with a bit of lingering worry and fear over the damage he had done. Whatever this feeling was, it was certainly heavy and painful, like a second brand inside his head and weighing down on his own.

As he turned to leave again he caught a quick glimpse of something in the corner of the bedroom, behind the door. He had to step inside the room completely and shut it to get a better look. It was a small, wooden crib, obviously a bit newer than most of the other furniture in the cabin, and underneath the tiny pillow and little pile of stuffed toys was a faint blue glow. The painful feeling twisted slightly. He didn't have time to figure out what this new emotion was supposed to be. There were other things of more importance.

“Hey... Hey, is that you, li'l buddy?” Dusty said in a soft voice as he approached the crib, “You don't gotta hide. I won't hurt you.”

He cautiously reached in and tried to take the pillow, and was startled by the loud squeak that came from underneath. Dusty jumped back, dropping the pillow to the floor, and stared at the frightened creature.

So this was a Protokid. Dusty could see some resemblance to Novakids like himself; their thin, transparent membrane showed a glowing cloud of deep blue gasses inside of them, and their face consisted of a sigma-shaped metal brand. They were so small and round, and seemed completely soft and fluffy without a distinct separation between their thick membrane and lighter corona. They wobbled as they walked on the tiny stumps they had for limbs, and tried to find another hiding spot without their pillow. It was hard for Dusty to imagine them growing up to take on a more bipedal form. He was completely unprepared for how cute they were.

He also wasn't prepared for the tiny blue stains he noticed on the crib bedding. When his first thoughts were, “Is that poop? Do Protokids poop?” he finally realized how out of his depth he was. He didn't know the first thing about raising protos. He didn't know their basic biology, or what to feed them, or what to do if they get sick, or the answers to any of the hundreds of questions that began flooding his mind. How was he planning to help them in the first place? What was he supposed to do?

Dusty could feel himself shaking, and tried to breathe as slowly as he could. No matter what he did or didn't know, the one fact of the matter was that any action he took would be better than leaving the baby to starve. By now he noticed that the proto was making a quiet, shaky sound and trying to back up into the corner of their crib.

Shoot, what kinds of words would be comforting? Dusty stepped forward with one hand raised in silence, until he finally began whispering, “No, no! Hey... Hey, no. No.” Well, that would have to do.

The proto kept shaking as Dusty reached towards them. Dusty was out of words at this point, and simply held his open palm in front of their brand to watch what they would do.

The proto stopped shaking after a few minutes, and then slowly leaned towards the hand. They looked up at Dusty a few times, and leaned left and right like they were trying to see the hand from other angles. Eventually they lifted their tiny arm, just like Dusty had done, and set their little stub down on one of his fingertips. They made a small, pleased sound, and leaned forward even further to rest their brand against his fingers, then reached out with their little nubby arms to pull his whole hand closer. It was as much of a hug as they could possibly give. Dusty could feel a slight temperature difference between his own hand and the proto's tiny body, and knew that they had realized Dusty was the one warm spot in the freezing house. Something about the proto made Dusty think they were rather thin too, not from just a few days without food, but a longer period of poor nutrition.

“Oh,” Was all Dusty could say when his words finally returned to him. “Oh, you poor li'l thing. It's okay now, okay? I've got you now.”

He reached his other hand under the proto to scoop them into his arms and lift them to his chest. Immediately there was another loud squeak, and Dusty nearly dropped them in surprise. The proto shrieked loudly and reached their stubby arms towards the stuffed animals, acting like they were trying to grab the button-eyed poptop plushie sitting near the front. Dusty picked it up too and gently set it down on top of the baby. The crying stopped as soon as soon as the proto could cuddle up to their stuffed companion.

“Ah, I see. I guess that's comin' along with us.”

It did give Dusty a bit of inspiration, though. He began digging through the rest of the room, looking for anything else that might be of use. Aunt Nitro wouldn't be needing any of it for a while, and if she did come back soon Dusty could say he had only borrowed her things.

Unfortunately, it seemed the rest of the room had already been cleaned out. Aunt Nitro's jewelry box had been emptied completely, and nothing else in the room held any value at all. Though a check of her sewing kit revealed a cache of safety pins, and that was a good enough find for him. A few handfuls of pins holding his jacket shut resulted in a sling to carry the proto and leave his hands free. It looked more like he had simply stuffed a plushie down his shirt with the way the poptop's head hung out, but whenever he looked down he could see the dark gleam of blue light reflecting off the sigma brand underneath the poptop's arms. They were watching him closely.

The only other thing in the house that seemed to be of any use was a small, expandable gate, used to section off parts of the room into a makeshift playpen. It would certainly fit across the narrow length of the wagon, letting Dusty block off the kitchen from any mischief.

He carried the gate outside to tie it to the back of his hoverbike. The temperature had dropped since he went in, and a wall of gray clouds was rising along the horizon. If they started home now, they could make it there before the snow did.

Dusty stopped for a second to wrap his arm around his stomach, giving the proto a light hug. They seemed to vibrate in response, like they were purring without a sound. His mind went back to his idea from the ride in: Take care of them for a few days or weeks, don't get attached, and if the worst comes true then find a nice foster family for them.

He didn't even need to tell himself that it wasn't going to happen. He already knew.

Without his mom, without Aunt Nitro, the only family he knew of now was the tiny, starving proto trying to keep warm. The thought of being alone never worried him, but the thought of being truly alone was somehow different. As long as he had his little cousin, then at least he could say he had someone.

He looked down into his jacket again. “Hey, li’l buddy?”

The proto pushed aside the poptop's arm slightly.

“I'm gonna take real good care of you. I promise.”

They didn't seem to respond. They probably didn't understand what that meant at all. But just saying it out loud was the important part.

Dusty took his seat on the bike, double checking the pins to make sure his jacket wouldn't come open on the ride. “Ready to go home, buckaroo? I bet a nice bowl of soup will warm you right up.”

The proto made a small chirping sound, almost like a songbird. It was the happiest sound that Dusty had heard since meeting them.