Voidwalkers Outpost

Cygnus reached for a screen-cleaning cloth without taking their eyes (well, punctuation marks) off their tablet as they scrolled through its calendar, deciding whom to disappoint. Their job as an inter-faction liaison/diplomat was a balancing act between getting the best outcome for the TVs, while not making either the Soundkind or the Cameras think that the TVs were favouring the other faction at their expense. And, of course, dealing with the other factions' diplomats who were doubtless doing the exact same thing. To pile onto Cygnus's workload even further, the armistice with the Skibidis meant that Cygnus had many more appointments these days with Gustav, the Skibidi ambassador. (At least that was more or less balanced out by Cygnus being able to delegate work to their new understudy.) Cygnus was due a meeting with Gustav tomorrow morning, in fact. Their calendar had a free afternoon after that, and multiple parties were hoping to claim it.

Cygnus rubbed the cleaning cloth over their screen, only to discover it was actually an ink refill pad for a rubber stamp. They'd forgotten they were hot-desking in a camera outpost instead of working in their own office right now. Cygnus cycled through varied cheesed-off emoticons as they hunted for something to really clean their screen this time. With that fuckery dealt with, they resumed checking their calendar, in a significantly sourer mood.

A welcome surprise snapped them out of it: a message from Cygnus's ex, the camera Thirty-Three. (Their camsign name was, unfortunately, Fish Magnet — foisted on them after they'd fallen into a pond during a field mission and ended up with a lamprey suctioned to their lens. Their crewmate's candid photo of the event had done the rounds in their home base.)

The pair had split on bad terms once Cygnus became a diplomat. Cygnus had ended the relationship to avoid any professional accusation that they favoured the Camera faction over the Soundkind. Poor Thirty-Three had been very upset about that, saying that Cygnus valued their job more than their relationship. Cygnus hadn't had a good answer for that. Nevertheless… years down the line, Thirty-Three had mellowed enough that the pair still kept in touch and shared major life updates.

Cygnus couldn't deny that they were still fond of Thirty-Three — nor could they deny that they still sometimes wondered what it would have been like had they handled things differently. They opened the message.

Cygnus composed a reply in the affirmative, unconsciously displaying a delighted emoticon on their screen as they did so. Of course they could find time for Thirty-Three— Silverstream now, Cygnus reminded themself. That would be a nice treat after meeting Gustav. It wasn't that Cygnus especially disliked the skibidi - in another lifetime, they might even have been friends - but representing the TV faction to their former enemy always put Cygnus's diplomatic skills to the ultimate test.

Cygnus shoved the remains of the ink pad down their biofuel-burner. That would teach it. As their internal macerator wetly scrunched the pad, Cygnus started planning their week and sending off more messages. Tomorrow would be an exciting day…

┄

Cygnus lingered in the void a little longer, putting off the inevitable. They reminded themself that they could always zip out of reality into the void if things went cunt-up. Their counterparts from the other factions, Trashbag the Soundkind and the three Cameras Geryone, had no such luxury. Then again, having an emergency escape route enabled Cygnus to potentially take bigger risks.

Cygnus wore their diplomatic uniform: a long trench-coat, in contrast to the hip-length pea-coat of their everyday wear. Their trench-coat went from white at the collar and shoulders, matching their white tie, to TV-purple at the hems in graduated diagonal stripes of intermediate colour, giving Cygnus's outfit a striking asymmetry. (Having a senior tailor as a partner definitely had advantages.) Upon the lapels of their suit jacket, Cygnus wore a matching pair of enamel brooches linked by a metal chain of TV purple: two white swans, both with their eyes made from tiny amber chips in tribute to the Skibidis' emblematic yellow. One swan's feet were enamelled in Soundkind scarlet; the other's, Camera cyan.

As a conciliatory gesture, Cygnus had an X-shaped layer of glass temporarily bolted to the front of their head-casing. It was made of the same material as the lens-protectors that the cameras wore for immunity to TV screen-powers (and, presumably, the shades the skibs wore for the same reason). The X-shaped face-shield meant that Cygnus's screen-powers were greatly reduced in strength. Enough of the killing light could creep through the gaps that Cygnus wasn't totally defenceless, but it would be hard for them to get the drop on someone. Cygnus hoped the message was clear: 'I'm handicapping myself out of respect for our armistice. I'm leaving myself some offensive capability out of acknowledgement that we are still technically at war.'

Enough stalling. It was time to exit the void and talk to Gustav.

Cygnus spawned in the reception of the skibidi outpost and approached whom they hoped was the receptionist. Two skibs manned the reception desk, both engaged in what appeared to be a game of 'wrestling' with spoons held in their mouths. Cygnus turned on the translation 'limpet' on the side of their head that enabled them to understand the tonal skib speech. It could also reverse Cygnus's own speech for the benefit of any non-TV listeners. Cygnus could manage that on their own, but sometimes it was nice to have the limpet do the work.

One of the skibs doinked the other one on the skull repeatedly, in response to which the other elasticated its neck to 'rear' up, then jabbed the first one in the eye with its spoon until the first gave up in defeat and hid in its bowl. The triumphant skibidi turned to face Cygnus and casually knotted the spoon with its tongue like a cherry stem as it waited to hear what Cygnus had to say.

"I'm here to see Mr. Roosebeck," said Cygnus through the translation limpet. "He's expecting me. I am Fifty-Twenty-Two."

"Do you need that thing just to talk?" asked the skib that had lost the spoon-wrestling match. (The other still had its mouth full of knotted spoon.)

"This?" Cygnus tapped the limpet. "I can manage without it, but it's a bit like…" Cygnus paused to think of a suitable comparison. "Reversing my speech by myself is a bit like having to remember to begin every sentence with 'banana' and end every sentence with 'orange' just so you can understand me."

"Orange you glad you don't have to do that?" said the skib, grinning wider than its own head.

The other skib finished chewing and swallowing the spoon in its mouth. "Banana, you need to say 'orange' at the end so they know what you're saying. Orange."

"No, that's not what I—" began Cygnus.

"Banana, you forgot to say banana! Orange," protested the spoon-eating skib, interrupting Cygnus.

Cygnus was spared any further fruity nonsense by the arrival of the diplomat Gustav Roosebeck, who had probably come over to reception to see what the delay was. "So that's where all my teaspoons went. Fifty-Twenty-Two, always a pleasure to see you again," said Gustav. "You're like me - you and I, we've got the juice in this burg. I appreciate you coming here in person, even if these two don't. Let's head on over."

"Thank you," said Cygnus as the pair walked to Gustav's office. "And please feel free to speak Skibidi if you prefer. I've got a new bit of kit." They tapped the translation limpet.

Cygnus wondered, as always, about Gustav's oddly atrophied toilet bowl. Was it appearing or disappearing? Had it grown to that degree and then stopped? Or had it been a normal toilet bowl and been pared down, as much sliced off as Gustav could bear? Was Gustav in some way a failed and incomplete skibidi, or possibly a failed attempt at reversing the metamorphosis? Cygnus had never asked.

Once again, Cygnus found themself in Gustav's office. This time, there was a vase on Gustav's desk in the style of Charles Rennie Mackintosh. Cygnus wondered if that was Gustav's own taste, or if that was an attempt at appealing to the TV faction's connections with Scotland. (Before the plague/war, the nation of Scotland had offered citizenship to all TV-units in recognition of the first human-made televisions having been invented there. Cygnus had never taken it up, and now it was meaningless anyway.) The vase had purple aconite in it. Perhaps Gustav changed the flowers out to the emblematic colour of whichever Alliance faction they were dealing with, Cygnus mused.

Cygnus disappeared inside their own head and began the dance of diplomacy. For now, there was no Cygnus; only the will of the TV faction. Cygnus's own opinions didn't matter. They would say whatever they needed to say to extract maximum intel and maximum benefit for their faction, while promising as little as possible. They would force themself to be unflappably calm and benign, a polite glacier.

Of course, Gustav would be playing the same game.

The pair drew and redrew their lines in the sand, both trying to take more than they gave without antagonising the other. A prisoner exchange here, an intel exchange here, an offer of supplies and a demand for services, rebuffed, resubmitted.

Hours later, the two players parted ways. Cygnus had given a technically-true promise to share intel from the Astro samples that the TV Titan had managed to harvest from the battlefield, while still leaving wiggle room in the TVs' favour by following the letter of the promise and not the spirit.

(Cygnus was glad that Gustav hadn't offered any condolences over their Titan's fate. They thought it would have been beyond their capacity to remain calm had that happened. It would have been hard to resist the urge to snap back - how dare the skibidis offer such empty platitudes after doing nearly the same thing to the Sound Titan? …Luckily, it never came to pass. Perhaps Gustav had guessed how Cygnus might react.)

In addition, Cygnus had secured several useful pieces of intel on Astro supply lines and sources of material… and a promise to deliver an order of fresh chicken eggs at a later date to an Alliance supply depot. Of course, Gustav had demanded to know why.

"I have a friend who wants to show me the various ways to cook an egg," was all Cygnus had said.

After the two diplomats parted ways, Cygnus slid along the void-pathways, in much greater spirits. They wove through the layers of the void, indulging in a bit of whimsy by waving their hands like an orchestral conductor's, as though they were directing the paths to bend to their will. Cygnus exited the void at a TV storage depot, where they'd booked a locker and had had a change of clothes delivered. They changed from their diplomatic uniform to a more casual but still date-smart one, in typical TV charcoal and purple. They left their uniform, limpet, and the x-shaped face-plate in the locker - someone would deliver them to Cygnus's office at the main TV base later.

Into the void once more. Cygnus paused to drop a nugget of galena on the 'ground', as a kind of offering to Jeffrey in thanks for safe passage. (Nobody knew for sure if Jeffrey ever discovered or noticed these offerings of galena and obsidian, or even realised they were for him, or ever collected them. But the little ritual persisted among the TVs nevertheless.)

Cygnus materialised in the lobby of the cam base where Silverstream lived, and they signed in as normal. (Cygnus had half-expected to feel sweet nostalgia over visiting again after so long, but it almost felt as though they'd done this just yesterday.) They were here on personal business, so had no cause to pull their diplomatic rank. They'd follow the same rules and procedures as everyone else. It was nice to dip into anonymity a bit after such an arduous work task. They dropped off their pea coat in the cloakroom, then headed on to Club Cretaceous.

Club Cretaceous was the base's prime hangout spot. It was underground, two storeys tall, and had a magnificent windowed wall showing the chalky strata the base was built upon, hence the club's name. The Club hosted everything from book clubs to board game nights to discos. Right now, in the middle of the day, it was being used for general socialisation and a place to recharge while people-watching.

It was here that Cygnus and Silverstream had first met. Cygnus had come to this base for work reasons, and had had some time to kill before they needed to head back. They'd seen there was a film club happening at Club Cretaceous, and had gone to watch. The projector the club had been planning to use broke, and Cygnus had volunteered to let everyone watch the film on their screen instead. The cam running the club had thanked Cygnus for the assist, and the two got to talking after that.

Cygnus found Silverstream just where they'd said they would be: in what had once been their usual booth. (The booths at Club Cretaceous had adjustable seating and table surfaces, to accommodate both minim-class and large-class cams.) Silverstream and their new squeeze Sea Salt both waved to Cygnus, and Cygnus waved back. As Cygnus approached, Silverstream slid out from the booth and embraced them warmly. Cygnus delightedly allowed Silverstream to wrap them up in a tight hug, revelling in the cam's sheer size. The quietest of purrs escaped from the TV's speakers.

(Several cameras furtively watched. It was unusual to see a TV here at all, and more unusual still to see a TV display affection in public.)

"It's wonderful to see you again," Cygnus said. "There was a time I didn't think you'd ever welcome me back in your life." Cygnus ended the hug and stepped backwards to better look Silverstream in the lens, and to get a proper look at Sea Salt, who had now exited the booth.

Cygnus made a mental note of Sea Salt's outfit, intending to describe it later to Fornax the tailor. Sea Salt wore a bright azure-blue suit jacket and trousers with a sandy-brown shirt, belt and shoes. Their tie was a rippled pattern of bright blues and sunny yellows, looking like the pattern of sunlight on the floor of a shallow sea. On one lapel, they had a couple of brooches made to look like starfish. (Cygnus slightly wished they'd brought their swan brooches as a conversation starter.) On their head-casing was a concentric square decal that Cygnus guessed was meant to represent a salt crystal.

"Oh, you remembered," said Silverstream, their lens pointing at Cygnus's tie. Cygnus wore one that Silverstream had gifted them long ago, with a black-on-black embroidered pattern of fern leaves. "Shall we?" Silverstream gestured for Cygnus to seat themself in the booth. Both slid into place, Cygnus sitting opposite Silverstream and Sea Salt. Sea Salt leaned into their big partner, and Silverstream casually hugged them close.

"Well met, Sea Salt," said Cygnus. "Can I assume you had some influence on Thirty-Three changing their handle?"

"That's right," said Sea Salt from their cosy nest of Silverstream. "I thought someone with the handle 'Fish Magnet' had to be worth knowing! But it made me a bit sad to learn it was a mocking name. I wanted to give them a name as nice as they are."

"It suits you," Cygnus said, directing their response to Silverstream.

"Should we ask them now?" Sea Salt asked Silverstream. "TVs are supposed to prefer getting straight to the point."

"It's true," said Silverstream. They turned their attention to Cygnus. "Sea Salt and I have a proposal for you. Why don't you and I fuck one last time, one last hurrah-" (Cygnus visibly jolted in surprise.) "-while Sea Salt records us? I didn't forget that you have a thing for big units…" (Another jolt from Cygnus.)

"And it just so happens," began Sea Salt, "That I have a bit of a thing for TVs. I'd love to get your good side."

"I know that look," said Silverstream. "That's the little thing you do when you're flustered."

Cygnus looked down at their own hands, catching themself in the act of fidgeting their fingertips together. It was something Cygnus tended to do without realising.

"That was one of the things I found most endearing about you," said Silverstream. "Still is." Silverstream leaned over and patted Cygnus's hands.

"Silverstream and I got to talking about our exes," said Sea Salt. "And that's how I learned that you split when Silverstream was still a minim-class."

"And I bet you regretted that just a little," Silverstream said. They casually rearranged themself as they spoke, as if to emphasise their current size. (A deliberate move, Cygnus was sure, but one they appreciated.)

"And, honestly, from what Silverstream says about you, I wanted to meet you," continued Sea Salt as they wriggled a bit to accommodate Silverstream's new position. "So I suggested we do a little something nice for you. I let you fuck my beloved Silverstream, and I get to watch Silverstream have fun with a pretty TV."

Cygnus all but blew a fuse.

"Let me take a few close-up shots while we're at it," said Silverstream. "Of your screen, your hands, your charging port. We'll cut those in when we edit. We'll watch the footage and edit it together, add transition effects, make it a nice little movie," said Silverstream. "You'll get a copy, and you can feel free to show it to any of your current partners who'd like to see their cute little TV get treated right by a big strong camera." Silverstream tilted their mic, as if raising an eyebrow.

Cygnus wrung their hands in delight at being called a 'cute little TV', hard enough that the material of their gloves made a leathery squeak.

Silverstream laid an arm on the table, inviting Cygnus to hold hands. Cygnus placed their hand in the camera's huge palm and was delighted when Silverstream closed their fingers with a squeeze. "What do you think, my dear?" asked Silverstream.

"…I very much want to take you up on that suggestion," Cygnus managed to say.

"Just as well," said Sea Salt. "They're setting up the ping pong tables now."

Cygnus followed Silverstream and Sea Salt in a happy daze to the cameras' shared quarters. (They tried to remember the location for future porting but couldn't be sure they had it right.) They had no trouble telling which camera was responsible for which parts of the decor. Silverstream still collected pink glass, and they'd acquired more of the stuff since Cygnus had last visited Silverstream's old quarters. There was everything from glass globes to drinkware to jars of beads and marbles, in all shades from rose to fuchsia. Amongst the glass pieces were what must have been Sea Salt's collectibles. They evidently collected marine fossils and dried casts. The two cameras must have had fun curating their display. Coral fossils shared shelf space with millefiori beads (marine and murrine, Cygnus might have thought if they'd been less distracted). A pink glass vase was full of desiccated starfish, and glass globes sat next to globular sea urchin fossils.

The three entered the cameras' bedroom. "Don't mind me," said Sea Salt, pulling up a chair and settling in to record what would happen next. "I'll move around, get some good angles, but you can pretend I'm not here."

Cygnus automatically doffed their suit jacket and began to remove their tie… then wondered whether they should deliberately draw out the action — slowly pulling and draping, perhaps — to make a more exciting video. They thought about it some more, and decided against it: this endeavour was supposed to make a video that Cygnus's partners would enjoy watching. They'd absolutely notice if Cygnus was hamming it up.

"Let me help you with that," said Silverstream, interrupting Cygnus from their reverie.

Cygnus realised they'd come to a standstill, their fingertips still idly gripping their tie knot, paralysed with indecision. Silverstream gently pushed Cygnus's fingers aside and unworked the knot, amazing Cygnus with their dexterity. Cygnus shivered in delight and reached up to stroke Silverstream's wonderfully big hands that moved with such measured strength.

"Oh, you want to guide me?" said Silverstream. "Guide away." Cygnus purred their speakers. "I've always loved that purr," said Silverstream as they let Cygnus move their hands further down, directing them to Cygnus's waistcoat buttons. Silverstream undid them, moving with such delicacy and gentleness despite their size that Cygnus could contain themself no longer, and frantically pressed themself against Silverstream's front, squeezing them as much as they could manage given the difference between Cygnus's armspan and Silverstream's circumference. "…Needy little TV, aren't you?" said Silverstream as they squeezed Cygnus's back with one hand and cradled their occiput with the other.

Cygnus melted, absolutely size-drunk on Silverstream, as they nuzzled their screen all over the big camera's front as if worshipping them. Silverstream scooped up Cygnus, who shivered in delight at being picked up so easily and casually, and sank into Silverstream's arms. Silverstream rearranged their hold on Cygnus and lifted them up higher so they could push their matte box, that rectangular guard around their lens, into Cygnus's screen, nuzzling into the corner. Cygnus's little speakers purred with static as the TV exulted in just how irresistibly big Silverstream was.

"Smile for the camera," teased Silverstream, adjusting their arms so they could raise Cygnus's 'chin' with a finger. Cygnus couldn't help but obediently display a blissed-out emoticon. Their speakers purred a rolling boil of static as Silverstream resumed nuzzling Cygnus's screen and aerial with their matte box.

Silverstream carried the squirming Cygnus to the bed and set them down, but Cygnus barely touched the bed - they practically climbed on Silverstream and pressed themself against the big camera as though trying to burrow into their shell. Silverstream pulled Cygnus into their lap and let them puddle there. "Do you still click here?" asked Silverstream as they stroked and tickled Cygnus's side, searching for the vents they knew were around there. They gently pressed down on Cygnus's plating, listening for a soft 'click'.

"I've had many tune-ups since then," Cygnus said. "No more loose vents. But feel free to keep trying." Cygnus melted into Silverstream a little more, enjoying the scritches and rubs on their side vents. They began undoing their shirt buttons, and sat up enough to take off their shirt and under-layer.

"Oh, I need close-ups of this," said Silverstream admiringly. They stroked Cygnus's front plating with the backs of their fingers. "Well, if you're going to do that, so am I."

Silverstream disengaged from Cygnus so they'd have room to move. Cygnus watched transfixed as Silverstream disrobed, unbuttoning and then shrugging off their shirt, followed by undoing the zips and poppers of their under-layer so they could peel that off too. Cygnus realised they were idly touching their charging port as they gazed upon Silverstream's bare plating.

Cygnus, like most minim-class TVs, was built for standing in place while in combat. Having a command-beam and access to the void meant they didn't need to be agile or acrobatic. Silverstream's structure and plating was a marvel of elegant complexity compared to Cygnus's: both powerful enough to support such a heavy unit, and allowing the movement needed for quick deployment of guns or melee weapons. Cygnus's gaze traced the camera-blue trim that snaked all around Silverstream's vents (big, for dissipating heat from such a huge hefty unit) and the faceted bulges that covered their pumping hydraulics. Cygnus wished they had a means of recording what they saw…

One of Silverstream's LEDs lit up: an indicator that they were broadcasting. "Show me what that aerial does," they said.

Cygnus obediently displayed Silverstream's broadcast.

As Silverstream regarded Cygnus's screen, they broadcast what they saw to the TV, making Cygnus display a cascade of their own image. Silverstream's gaze bore down, transfixing Cygnus in a hall of mirrors of their own making. Silverstream 'hypnotised' Cygnus further by rubbing the underside of their head-casing, just the way they knew Cygnus liked.

Cygnus quivered and chirped their speakers.

Silverstream leaned in further still, and nuzzled their microphone against Cygnus's aerial. The double stimulation made Cygnus shiver, as Silverstream's microphone picked up the sound of the slick aerial and forced it through Cygnus's speakers, until Silverstream could no longer tell how much was reflected sound and how much was Cygnus's own purring. Silverstream riled up Cygnus, caressing their aerial and nuzzling them with their matte box, all the while stroking Cygnus's plating and making them squirm.

Cygnus slipped into a test-card pattern and switched their screen off momentarily, then turned it back on, no longer receiving the broadcast. They purred their speakers anew and gazed up at Silverstream with a pattern of screen static that Silverstream knew from past experience to be adoration. Silverstream lowered Cygnus to lie them down on the bed, to let the TV recover a little. They petted Cygnus's front plating, giving their charging port a little rub.

Under Silverstream's hand, Cygnus's central plating seam disengaged with a decisive click.

"Oh! Does that hurt? Is it… supposed to do that?" said Silverstream, flinching their hand away and worriedly regarding the now-loose plating on Cygnus's front.

"It is supposed to, and it doesn't hurt," replied Cygnus, displaying a cheery emoticon. "I've had my plating modded so I can open it myself without needing someone else to unlock it for me."

"For… easy cleaning?" asked Silverstream.

"For wireplay," said Cygnus. "I've discovered that I absolutely love it."

"Cygnus! I would never have thought you had that in you."

Cygnus took Silverstream's hand and guided it back to the central seam of their unlocked plating. "Would you like to see what else I have in me?" They rubbed Silverstream's hand, and continued silently: "Switching to transmission for a sec so it doesn't get picked up on recording. If you've never done wireplay before and want your first time to be with Sea Salt-"

Cygnus's transmission was interrupted by one from Sea Salt: "Please continue. I'm dying to record this!"

Silverstream transmitted a data 'chirp' of acknowledgement, with a secondary layer of pleasure and gratitude. They rubbed up and down the opened seam of Cygnus's plating, making the TV arch into the touch and buzz their speakers with anticipation. "What's inside a pretty TV?" asked Silverstream. They stroked open Cygnus's exo-plating, and made sure to record a close-up of the plating folding into itself on its rolling hinges, like the wing of an exotic insect. "Will you show me what to do next?"

Cygnus guided Silverstream's hands again, inviting them to release the locking bolts and nuts holding together the frame-rig that supported Cygnus's plating. Silverstream marvelled at the trust Cygnus was putting in them - with parts of their frame-rig unfastened, Cygnus would struggle to stand upright and support their own weight. Until Silverstream put them back together, Cygnus was all but stuck in place.

"You can pull a little harder," Cygnus purred as Silverstream cautiously plucked at one of the locking pins. "It's a lot tougher than it looks."

Silverstream gave the twin panels of frame-rigging an experimental tug to make sure they were unlocked, and lifted them both out. "Oh, that's really something…" Silverstream said as they admired Cygnus's insides. They stared at the beads of purple light marching down many of Cygnus's cables, bathing their body cavity in a purple glow. (The glow made Silverstream take a while to notice that the inner surfaces of Cygnus's torso were finished in TV purple, in contrast to the charcoal-grey of their exo-plating.) Their cables were neatly bundled and safely cuffed. As Silverstream zoomed in for some close-ups, they noticed that many of Cygnus's wires were encased in woven coatings wrapped in springs, instead of the typical smooth plastic.

Cygnus reckoned they knew what had caught Silverstream's attention. "Yes, I've had my insides modified," said Cygnus. "All the better for wireplay. …It helps to have a couple of Titan engineers for partners."

"You are just full of surprises," said Silverstream. "…I never thought you of all people would get a sex mod. …What should I do? I mean, how do I pleasure you?"

"Just explore, however you wish," said Cygnus. "You can stroke, you can scrunch my wires together or push them apart. You can pull them, nice and gently. You don't have to worry about hurting me; my mods can take a lot of pulling. But I like a gentle touch to start with."

"I remember that much," said Silverstream as they reached in to rub and ruffle Cygnus's wires.

Cygnus chirped their speakers, and bands of static rippled up their screen. They squirmed under Silverstream's touch pinning them to the bed, and their vents huffed out excess heat.

"Such an adorable subject deserves a proper close-up," said Silverstream. They lowered their great head and pushed their lens and matte box into Cygnus's body cavity, hunting like a hog for elusive truffles among Cygnus's bundles of wires.

Cygnus writhed in joy as Silverstream 'hooked' the corner of their matte box under a cluster of wires and pulled upwards, making those cables tight. They lay dissolved in sensation for a while, until they regained enough self-control to reach up and pet Silverstream's head, rubbing as much as they could reach of of Silverstream's lens casing and the rods that supported it. Silverstream mentally 'growled' a little when Cygnus's petting bumped their focusing rings, and lifted their head out of Cygnus's body cavity (inevitably tugging on wires as they did so, making Cygnus chirp). They beckoned Sea Salt closer. Sea Salt all but sprang out of their chair, eager to take some close-ups of their own. Cygnus purred at their approach, delighted to be the focus of two cameras at once.

Silverstream intercepted Sea Salt, extending a hand for Sea Salt to nuzzle into. Silverstream wrapped their great hand around Sea Salt's head-casing, and Sea Salt let themself be led wherever Silverstream wanted them, which turned out to be Sea Salt's lens buried in Cygnus's torso. Sea Salt obediently nuzzled their lens into Cygnus's wiring, while Silverstream played with the wires at the back of Sea Salt's head-casing, making Sea Salt squirm and in turn making Cygnus jolt. Silverstream switched their attentions between Sea Salt's external wires and Cygnus's internal ones, riling up both of their smaller partners and making them stimulate each other.

Cygnus clasped Sea Salt's head in both hands and and forced it in place (to Sea Salt's delight) while they orgasmed, arching their back upwards as they pulled Sea Salt's head down, until they flopped back down, spent, and released their grip on Sea Salt. "Sorry for grabbing without asking," Cygnus managed to murmur.

"All's forgiven if I get to put you back together?" replied Sea Salt.

Cygnus chirped in assent. They managed a thumbs-up to go with it.

Silverstream obligingly picked up the pieces of Cygnus's frame-rig and lowered them into place so that Sea Salt could re-do all the bolts and locking pins that kept Cygnus intact. Sea Salt watched in amazement as Cygnus closed their own exo-plating on top.

"All good?" asked Silverstream as they gave Cygnus's front a friendly pat with one hand and received Cygnus's shirt and tie from Sea Salt with the other.

Cygnus squeaked, then rallied themself enough to reply with actual words. "So good." They accepted their clothes back from Silverstream, but were still too stunned to sit up and put them on. They lay there idly clutching them, fidgeting with their tie a bit. Silverstream donned their own clothes, then moved in to scoop and cuddle Cygnus into a seated position. That rejuvenated Cygnus enough to make them realise their bare plating was getting a little overstimulated from being uncovered for so long. Silverstream waited for Cygnus to finish dressing, then pulled them and Sea Salt into a group cuddle.

The three units settled into cosy bliss for a while. Before too long, Silverstream and Sea Salt were comparing notes on what they'd recorded, previewing their favourite bits on Cygnus's screen, and talking about how best to edit the final video. Cygnus, still sleepy, felt pleasantly bombarded by all the incoming information. As a television, it always felt so right when all attention in a room was focused on their screen. Yes, that's just where you should be.

"Are you properly awake? I've got something to tell you," said Silverstream, gently stroking a corner of Cygnus's head-casing.

Cygnus chirped with static, and rallied themself to reply. "Yes, I'm awake."

"I'm going to give you a camsign name of your own," said Silverstream. "A proper one."

Camera-units could choose their own camsign names (though they often got forcibly nicknamed by their peers, as had happened to Silverstream when they ended up with the handle Fish Magnet), but non-cams had to earn one. Cygnus didn't need to be a diplomat to know that. It was common knowledge that cams took a dim view of any soundkind or TV who claimed a camsign name that hadn't been bestowed by a camera.

(Technically, Cygnus had one already. When they'd split from Silverstream, Silverstream had told them they could have 'Rotten Bastard' as a handle. Of course, Cygnus had never used it.)

Cygnus's screen glowed a little brighter from excitement at the prospect. What might Silverstream dub them?

"Do you know this sign?" asked Silverstream. They made a sign that could mean 'loosen' or 'untie'.

"Because I've got a few screws loose?" asked Cygnus.

Silverstream tilted their viewfinder and microphone as if rolling their 'eyes'. "I wasn't finished." They made the sign again while making the sign for 'addition' with their other hand. "These signs combined are 'catalysis' or 'catalyst'. And you know this one, of course." They made the sign for 'voice'. "Your job is to be a catalyst," said Silverstream. "You facilitate a reaction between two parties while remaining unaffected yourself. How would you like your camsign name to be Catalyst Voice?"

"Thank you, Silverstream," said Cygnus. "I'm very happy with this gift." Their screen rendered a delighted emoticon.

"I'm glad to know you, Cygnus," said Silverstream. "Let's write to each other more often." They scooped up Cygnus and Sea Salt anew.

"Did you have plans for this evening?" Sea Salt asked Cygnus.

"Nothing in particular, though there's always the chance the Imperator will call me back," Cygnus replied. "Why, do you need to kick me out?"

"It's board game night at Club Cretaceous," said Sea Salt. "Would you join us?"

Just like old times, Cygnus thought. And with a new friend this time. "Of course I would," said Cygnus.