EPISODE CCIX - FLIPPIN' FLAPJACKS WITH AUNTIE SEMITE
Nurse Yahbo cared for the comatose android as Stauch and his men returned to the NCO Club. They were pleasantly surprised when the corridor lighting flared to life and the familiar
vibration of harnessed nuclear power resonated beneath their feet.
"Well, that's one less thing to worry about", the sergeant observed. He turned to Powell, who was leaning over the
unconscious form of the barkeeper. "How is he?"
"He ain't gonna dah, I reckon", the corporal answered, "but we'all oughta git 'im back over dan' thar ta' sick bay, so's he ken git some medicle 'tention."
Recognizing the futility of trying to follow the corporal's dialogue, Stauch simply nodded, hoping that Powell would exercise better judgement than he did grammar. He motioned for Sgt. Randaway to follow
him and entered into the still darkened club. Triggering his implants, the sergeant was able to see DANA still lying among a haphazard pile of tables and chairs, peanut butter smeared liberally over its metallic
face.
"Good", Stauch breathed, "I think he's still out." He stepped up next to the previously enraged automaton, and gingerly pushed its head with the sole of his boot. Receiving no response,
he relaxed his grip on his AZ-13 Plasma Rifle. "Give me a hand, Randaway", he instructed as he began to drag the robot across the room.
Together they moved DANA out into the hallway just as Powell hoisted Marx over one shoulder to transport him to sickbay. "Reckon ah'll jes take'im on up thar ta' that place n' have the doc check 'im out."
Randaway stared at the corporal listlessly, his brow furrowed in confusion.
Stauch tapped him on the shoulder. "Just nod", he advised quietly, giving Powell a thumbs up.
