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Flight

As soon as she turned to see Camwegan he mustered all the strength he had and disappeared, heading for the nearest exit from the dining hall. Luckily it wasn't far, and with a little stealth he had slipped away unnoticed. His pride in successfully exiting the conversation was equaled only by the same he felt for the same act.

The conversation had been too hard on him though. He had to avoid any further contact or he wouldn't survive another meeting. As it was it took all of his strength to maintain his composure and deliver the message he needed to deliver to her. Another moment and he might have broken under the strain.

His heart raced and sweat poured from his brow. Looking down the long hall leading back to the housing quarters he was suddenly sick and vommitted uncontrollably on the floor. He braced himself against the wall before another spasm released the contents of the food they had shared. He began to question whether he'd be able to make it back to his quarters without assistance.

A slight ding sounded in the empty hall and a soft female voice emanated from no specific source. "Father, are you in need of assistance?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. I seem to have made a very colorful mess on your nice pristine floor," he said with a grin.

"Cleaning will take care of that. Are you in need of assistance," the voice repeated.

Trying to move away from the wall, he realized he couldn't make it home. "Yes, I'm afraid I do need some help."

"Cam is just in the next room, should I summon her," the voice asked.

"No. No, let Camwegan be with her friend. Ask Samson if he's available. And can you lock these dining hall doors behind me so Camwegan and her friend don't stumble upon the mess I've made here."

"Samson is happy to help and Cam has been notified that the doors are sealed for maintenance. Is there anything else you need, Father?"

"No. Thank you for keeping an eye out for me sweetheart," he said, still bracing himself against the wall.

"I'm happy to do so," the voice chimed.

Seconds later Samson appeared at the end of the hall escorted by a swarm of cleaners. The cleaners slid silently across the floor and up the wall, making quick work of the mess. Within seconds they were gone, back down the hall, leaving only Samson standing there.

His bulk loomed over the older man. His voice was deep and soft. "Can you walk or shall I carry you sir?"

"As much as I would love the dignity of walking home, I'm not capable." He looked up wearily at the robot, who had recently become a sort of nurse to him lately. This wasn't the first time he'd been carried home and might not be the last.

"I am happy to carry you. There's no shame in it." With that he knelt and gently scooped the old man up with his two right arms.