Chapter Text
One sunny spring day, as two old warbots ambled along their patrol route at the edge of the forest, a strange cry rang out.
It didn’t sound like any wild animal they’d ever heard, but as the bravest knights in the kingdom of Polaris, it was their responsibility to investigate.
They followed the sound deep into the woods until they reached a thicket. The taller one drew his sword and cautiously approached. The other remained in place, hand on his own hilt, ready to leap to his friend’s side if called upon.
The mechanical knight threw aside the foliage and gasped.
“Gadzooks! Forsooth! And whatnot! Doth mine optics deceive me? Or beist that a lonely bairn, caterwauling in yonder sylvan glen?”
“Doggone it, Cronk! You know I can’t understand you when you talk like that. What are you yammerin’ about?”
“Fine, ya spoilsport. Look! It’s a baby!”
“A baby?” The second warbot joined his compatriot at the thicket. “Say, don’t we have one of those?”
“Yeah, but this one’s… furry!”
The knights gawped at the child, sitting in a patch of clover and staring at the automatons with wide, teary green eyes. As he fussed, the warbots took in his golden fur, long and striped ears, and thin tail topped with a fluffy tuft. He was dressed in a simple baggy tunic, with no identifying insignia to be seen. He was certainly younger than their three-year-old Markazian ward back home, although they could not parse by how much.
The shorter warbot dropped his voice to a whisper. “Now, don’t get excited, Cronk, but I think that’s… a Lombax.”
“A LOMBAX?”
The child resumed crying.
“Oh, now look what you’ve done!” After shooting his partner a stink eye, the warbot approached the tiny creature and knelt beside him. “Hey there, little fella,” he said. “I’m Zephyr, and that’s Cronk. Are ya hurt? Where’s your family?”
Cronk shook his head. “Babies can’t talk, Zeph. Remember?”
“I know that, ya durn fool. I’m just trying to calm him down. Show him we’re friendly.” Zephyr held out his hand. “Now, now. No need to cry anymore. Cronk and I will keep ya safe.”
The boy cautiously reached out and gripped Zephyr’s finger, his tears abating. Zephyr waited a few moments before carefully taking him into his arms and slowly standing up.
Cronk scratched the top of the boy’s head. The baby Lombax nuzzled into his hand and began to purr.
“D’awww!” Cronk gushed. “I think he likes us. Wanna come home with us, little guy?”
“I don’t know…” Zephyr hesitated, transferring the boy to Cronk’s arms. “Do you think Miss Talwyn will be too rough on him?”
“Nahhh. She’d love a little brother.” Enamored by the little fluffball, Cronk gently pet between his ears as he followed Zephyr back to the road. Sensing he was safe at last, the little Lombax rested his head against him and closed his eyes. Cronk reluctantly tore his optic away from him and spoke to Zephyr in a hushed voice. “So, uh… before we can hug ‘im and squeeze ‘im and call him George, I think we both know what we have to do.”
“You read my mind, Cronk. We hafta tell the king.”
The robots began their return trip to the Zoni castle.
“But we’re not callin’ him George!”
“And that’s the whole story, yer majesty.” Zephyr addressed the king while Cronk held onto the Lombax, hushing him softly as he began to whimper again in the bright, cavernous throne room. “We couldn’t find any sign of how he got here, or who put him there! Not a hide or a hair!”
King Orvus quietly studied the child from his throne.
“How peculiar,” he said. “Well, we certainly can’t allow him to stay in the woods, regardless of his mysterious—”
“Zoooniiii! Wheeee!”
A silvery-blue blur buzzed across the room and tumbled beside him in a heap. After a moment, the hyperactive projectile righted itself, revealing itself to be a tiny Zoni child, who smiled mischievously at the king. Orvus couldn’t help but return the grin.
“XJ-0461, get back here!”
A frustrated shout rang through the throne room, and the cylindrical red-and-white robot who produced it dashed after the small Zoni, a flustered and steaming mess.
Sigmund held many titles in the court of the Zoni king—majordomo, record keeper, handyman, minister of propaganda. He was able to handle all with ease until very recently, when “babysitter of Orvus’s young son” was added to his list of duties.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Sigmund huffed. “I looked away for one second and he was gone.”
“It’s quite alright, Sigmund,” Orvus assured him, before turning to his son. “Clank, you mustn’t tease Sigmund like that. We’ve discussed this.”
The little Zoni paid him no heed, tilting his head to gaze at the Lombax. Sigmund followed the prince’s sight line, squinting at the knights and their tiny companion. “What the—? Is that a Lombax?”
Cronk shrugged. “We couldn’t believe it either!”
Sigmund balked and stammered, trying to compute the impossible sight before him. “But the Lombaxes are— Fastoon is—"
“Indeed,” Orvus confirmed. “It is a puzzle we have no inkling how to solve.”
Sigmund whipped a notepad and a large feather quill off his belt, scribbling furiously. “I’ll get right on it, your majesty. Assuming Clank will let me?”
No baby deserved the glower Sigmund fixed Clank with, Cronk and Zephyr were quite sure. Especially because Clank no longer seemed interested in raising hell for Sigmund. Mystified by the fuzzy child in Cronk’s arms, the young prince tentatively raised his hand and waved. The Lombax blinked at him, then quickly turned his head away as a shy smile grew on his face.
Orvus chuckled at the interaction. “Clearly, the boy is already among friends here. Of course, we are happy to give him a home here in Polaris until we find his proper one. Cronk, Zephyr, you said you’d like to watch over him?”
“Darn tootin'!” Zephyr blurted, before regaining his composure. “That is, if you don’t mind, sir.”
“Do you not already have your hands full with young Talwyn? Especially after her father...”
“Yeah, we thought about that,” Cronk nodded sadly, “and we think it’d be good for her. Give her something to focus on lovin’, instead of thinking about what she’s lost.”
Zephyr looked confident. “She’s as tough and tender as her old man. Won’t let any punk kids bully him for being furry, or different, or what-have-you. The fuzzball’s in no safer hands than us Apogees.”
“Very well,” the king said. “You may look after him. Sigmund and I shall devote ourselves to researching his home, and how to return him there.”
“Aw, don’t hurry for our sakes!” Cronk booped the little Lombax on the nose, making him giggle.
The warbots were dismissed, and Sigmund waited until they were gone to properly voice his true apprehension. “I have a very bad feeling about this, sir.”
Orvus sighed. “As do I.”
“Do you realize that sheltering a Lombax, even a baby one—”
“Of course I do, Sigmund. But we’re not cruel.”
It was Sigmund’s turn to sigh. “No, you’re right. But we both know, the longer the Lombax stays here, the more danger he poses to the kingdom,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “and to your son. What are we supposed to do then?”
Orvus pulled his squirming child close, a pained but resigned fear in his eyes. “Be ready.”