The Drifter's ship was cluttered with an excess of items ranging from the practical to the bizarre. And he frequently left them in heaps positioned in ways Eris found highly chaotic and ill-kept. But he always kept the Gambit ready room clear. And it was unlike him to have ammunition rolling about on the floor. He would have responded to such a mishap with a groan and taken immediate action to rectify the situation. For such a mess to be left in-place, he would have either not known about it, or been otherwise occupied.

The Drifter's ghost was also not present. Another unusual occurrence, albeit only for Eris. Normally the little light would have found her by now to guide her to its chosen. The Drifter did not like for anyone to see his ghost, but Eris was a unique exception and his ghost was inordinately fond of her. Its absence, combined with the silence from the ship's engines and the loose ammunition scattered around the floor filled Eris with concern.

She approached the exit with caution. The doors into and out of the Gambit ready room remained perpetually closed and locked at all times. All doors within the Drifter's ship were keyed to his biometrics, the particular light resonance pattern of his ghost, and, more recently, the biometric data of Eris Morn as well.

The door did not slide open at her approach, but it did unlock. Emergency power was functional, at least.

The well-oiled hinges made no sound and Eris stepped through the doorway into a completely unlit hall. The light from her orb and her eyes bathed everything in a sickly green glow. She paused at an intersection and looked into the rooms on either side.

The storage room on her right looked ransacked. Many items normally stacked on the shelving along three of the room's four walls had toppled down in heaps. A sack of flour had fallen and split, spilling white powder in a large spray across the metal floor. Long, snake-like trails through the flour led out of the room across the hall to the Drifter's garden. They reminded Eris of the tendrils from a Taken Primeval, the one the Drifter called "the Meatball."

But it was the inside of the garden through the other door which caused Eris' Ahamkara bone to frost over. She drew her hand cannon. Several of the plant frames had been smashed. A stray cucumber had rolled along the floor. A strawberry plant was trampled, its fruit leaving sticky red splotches among crushed leaves.

This was not a situation where an explosion from his workshop or the Drifter's sometimes questionable piloting decisions were at fault. Eris was looking upon signs of a struggle.

Cautious, ready to defend herself, Eris stalked silently down the hallway and into the Galley at the centre of the ship. Several pots and pans were on the ground. A plate had been smashed. Cupboard doors hung open as though something or someone had grasped them in a frantic search. The Drifter's metal coffee pot lay on its side, its dark liquid looking like blood in the light from her eyes .

As she slunk through the Galley, Eris heard the clang of metal on metal up ahead of her and the sound of something falling. Someone was moving nearby. Possibly even in the next room. The three-eyed former god of Vengeance pressed herself against the wall next to the door leading out into the rest of the ship, her weapons ready. The sound came again. Closer.

She waited.

The Drifter's ghost emitted its single tone in a long beep as it flew past her along the middle of the hallway at waist height. Behind it Eris heard a frantic scrambling, as though something were chasing it.

Eris stepped out into the doorway with a snarl, her frozen sphere hovering ready in one hand, her finger on the trigger of Loud Lullaby in the other, ready to defend the Drifter's ghost with extreme violence.

A very long, brown, many-legged blur flowed around a corner, up one wall, and along the ceiling over her head, chasing after the drone.

Eris lowered her weapon and turned to watch as the Bog Slug's considerable length flowed past her in pursuit of the Drifter's ghost. She watched it coil itself on top of the Drifter's kitchen table and spring across to the other side of the Galley, its many legs quivering in the air as it soared at shoulder height to pounce upon the Drifter's ghost as it hovered, blinking and twitching on the other side of the room.

The Bog Slug caught the misshapen drone in its jaws and landed with a clatter among the pots and pans scattered on the floor, twisting in on itself until it was a messy knot of worm segments and legs.

"Udon!" Eris called out sharply.

The writhing worm-knot became still. Slowly, the single eye of the Bog Slug rose from the coils of its body, gently holding the Drifter's twitching ghost ensnared within its mandibles.

"What are you doing?" Eris asked it.

It stopped moving again, its three-horned head at waist height. Watching her. It remained completely still for another moment, staring, before opening its pincers to release the ghost. The ghost, in turn, fell a few inches in the air and then levitated itself next to the Bog Slug's head.

Both the enormous many-legged worm and the ghost managed to look contrite and ashamed, despite neither one having much in the way of facial features to do so.

Eris' eyes narrowed as she looked around. "Is all this destruction… caused by the two of you?"

The poorly welded lopsided shell of the Drifter's ghost visibly drooped. It emitted its tone again, almost solemnly while blinking from red to blue to red again, turning its single electronic eye away from Eris slightly, as though it were unable to look her in all three of her eyes.

The Bog Slug also was unable to make eye contact. It trembled, unused to hearing reproach in Eris' voice. It drooped and slunk back down to the floor before skittering across the Galley toward Eris. As it reached her feet it began coiling itself around her legs, climbing her in a spiral of segments and chitin.

"No. Down," she commanded.

The Bog Slug pulled away from her and scurried into a dark corner of the Galley where it gave a contrite and mournful trill.

Eris turned back to the ghost. "Where is he?" she demanded.

Eris followed the Drifter's remorseful ghost into the Engine room where the Drifter was on his back with the front half of him partially inside of a maintenance hatch.

The ghost emitted its single tone as they approached.

"I told you to keep him busy while I'm workin'. The fuck you doing back here again?" he said, his voice echoing against the metal walls around him, making him sound simultaneously both louder and farther away.

"He was bringing me," Eris intoned.

"What? Eris?" There was a loud clang and the sound of something heavy falling. "Fuck!"

The Drifter slid on his back out from the hatch and looked up at her, blinking. His head was tilted to the side where he had a flashlight pinned between his ear and his shoulder. There was something black and oily on his face and in his beard. His shirt was torn and partially burnt. Wrenches of several sizes lay across his chest.

"What you doin' here, Moondust? I thought you were gone for a week."

"I was," she intoned.

"You get back early?"

"No."

"No?" he looked up at her, confused.

"No," she said, firmly.

He blinked. "What day is it?" He began gathering his tools off of himself.

"It is Wednesday."

"Wednesday? Shit. I was supposed to meet ya on the Moon."

"You were."

"I'm sorry. I've been fightin' this thing so long I lost track of time."

"Clearly." The frost left her orb and Eris heaved a deep sigh.

He looked over as the lingering Stasis crystals made small crackling noises as they dissipated from the sphere.

"You fighting something?"

"I thought I might have to. Your ship looks like a combat zone."

"Ha! Wait… more than usual?"

"Yes."

"What?"

The Drifter's ghost emitted its tone again. Somehow, despite having only one sound it could make, it managed to sound contrite.

"The fuck did you do?" he pointed at the drone with a crescent wrench. "I told you to watch him!"

"I believe they have been… playing tag… or perhaps fetch… It was difficult to determine."

"Really?"

"Yes," Eris crouched down near him and took the flashlight from where he had it pinned against his neck. "Vigorously."

The Drifter's grin widened. "That's… awesome! That's real cute."

"You may find it less 'awesome' when you witness the state of your garden."

"My garden!"

The Drifter's ghost looked away from both of them and emitted its tone again.

"Ok well… that's sub-optimal."

"Indeed. Hopefully you did not have any grand plans for your strawberries."

"Seriously? They were just gettin' ripe!"

Eris helped him to his feet and they ventured out into the ship together to survey the consequences of unrestrained playtime.