24

Nestor the Astronaut's house is a space module, one of those sold in bulk at Rock Verano bargains, made for those looking for an orbital vacation where nothing will bother them. A closer look at the metal stained by dark stripes, and the symptoms of a violent penetration into the atmosphere become evident. Buried over the remains of the former settlement hospital, Nestor literally fell from the sky due to a computational error. To survive, he had to deal with people he considered the worst, and only his medical vocation was enough to keep his head, a very easy element to lose in the Thunderdome.

"One pill every 12 hours until you stop feeling the itch in your gut. If you can't avoid eating roasted rats, at least try to keep them flea-free"

"Thanks, doc..." The caddyman says, accepting the jar with one hand and holding the other over his belly. Chester does him the favor of holding the plastic curtain at the threshold to the waiting room, and when the caddyman comes out, the Lancaster releases the curtain and faces Nestor to ask him if he is the Astronaut.

"Another illiterate. Sometimes I don't even know why I put so much effort into writing prescriptions and paying for advertising space for that human scumbag called El Poste" he says to himself as he locks his shelf of medicines and recreational drugs. He turns to the swordsman to ask him what he wanted, but the question changes when he notices what he looks like. "You look like them, you smell like them, but that bluish mane is natural, and that's not native...."

He speaks with the confidence of someone who participated in an intensive hair transplant course (Not for him, Nestor shows off his lustrous billiard head without shame).

"Slavering Muskita? Not the most exotic thing around, but still uncommon. Disgraced? Looking for your way back to the mountain of the gods?

"Your Jaspanglishinese is very accurate" Chester admits, because the fusion of the ten most spoken languages in the world, a symptom of globalization, always limps depending on the speaker. In Chester the Anglo-Saxon accent characteristic of his family seeps through, and in Erika the violent airs of her German origin can be glimpsed, but in Nestor the Jaspanglishinese is perfectly balanced.

"It's the least to be expected of an evolved specimen.... It's a tragedy that he can't say the same for the many other homo sapiens sapiens around here, whose ability to communicate is made up of 50% guttural sounds" Nestor shakes his head as he realizes he's wasting his time. "Speak quickly, what service do you want?"

"First I need to know, are there discounts for brats? I say this for my inner child"

Nestor's countenance frowns and his eyes look as cold as ice. Chester throws up his hands and laughs.

"Okay, I get it. Let me tell you the following story that happened to me"

He relates how in the middle of a battle he received a dishonorable blow. The story takes little time, concludes without embellishment, and Nestor nods.

"Drop your pants, muskite"

The Lancaster lays his katana on the nearby stretcher, loosens the straps, and gravity kicks in, revealing his toned and bruised legs. Nestor puts on a pair of rubber gloves, and when he turns around the nobleman already has his circumcised manhood out.

"Let's see what venereal disease you have here"

"Hey! You're kidding, r-right?"

"Still"

"Isn't this considered gay?"

Nestor ignores the question and keeps checking.

"His hands are cold!"

"Has he always been this big?"

"Is that-that bad?!"

"It depends on the age of the creature that your baser instincts lead you to inseminate"

He finishes the check-up. Nestor takes off his gloves and discards them in a wastebasket. Chester adjusts his pants and, with his heart in a fist, waits for the diagnosis.

"He looks as dead as my hopes for humanity" Nestor is stern.

Chester pales.

"Please! Do something, doc!" He begs with folded hands.

"Options depend on how many opals you have on you. I don't accept slaves"

"You see... I don't have any"

Nestor's face darkens.

"This is not charity. You-"

"But soon I will get all the treasures I want, because I will defeat Deathmask"

The doctor's anger turns to surprise, and from surprise to fear, it occurs to him that he is talking to a madman.

"Take that face off, doc. I'm serious" Chester raises the visor to his forehead, and his scarlet eyes corner the Astronaut's hazel gaze. "If you help me, and I do what I set out to do, when I leave, your life will be better"

Nestor decides to protect himself with silence before getting angry, because it is not clear to him if this is some stupid test of loyalty from Achu.

"Will you deny me help? Cooperate, doc. Think about the hypochondriac oath. Don't force me to force you"

The sudden appearance of a threat sends a shiver down Nestor's spine. He has received hundreds of threats before, but this was the first one spoken with a pious matter-of-factness, almost grudgingly, but also as if it were a snap to carry out. Nestor, quiet, but with his brow bathed in sweat, glances sideways at the desk, knowing he has a sawed-off shotgun behind him. He could take the plunge, he could...

"What's the matter, doc? You got something dangerous stashed away? You want to test your speed against mine and see if you can catch up? I'm not satisfied with competitions I know I'm going to win. But, anyway, it's up to you!"

Nestor returns his eyes to Chester, smiles bitterly, and understands that the man left him with two options: live or die.

"And I thought that apart from your hair pigment, you were just another Neanderthal of modern times, like so many others... I will help you. Do you know the process of electro-ejaculation?"

"Electro-what? Never mind, I didn't get strong asking for details. Let's do it!"

Chester lowers his glasses, and that menacing air he exuded just a few seconds ago disappears like a mirage. Nestor pulls an electric whip from a shelf. With the countenance of someone who has been beaten, he asks the Lancaster to pull down his pants again. Chester scrunches up his face and decides to accept the explanations. The treatment Nestor puts forward makes him twitch.

-"'d better let the body work and heal" he tightens the straps.

Nestor returns the whip to its place. If Chester had suffered a torn groin he would not be so lively and so mad with courage. A natural recovery is to be expected, although Nestor could not assure him when it would occur.

"Still, thanks for the service, doc. Very professional"

"Don't mention it..." Nestor opens his drug rack and pretends to be tidying up, thinking that if he's busy Chester will clear out. Doesn't work.

"Hey, do you know where to find a good mechanic? A really good one? I passed a few shops on the way, but none of them have the capacity to handle what I need"

"I have a face like a El Poste?"

"It's just that my armor was damaged"

"An armor...? That's your secret card to defeat Deathmask..?"

Nestor faces Chester with wild eyes.

"My business with Achu is more of a collateral problem.... The point is I need people who know what they're doing"

"It's crazy. Besides, the only armor in this settlement is held by the man you seek to overthrow. Deathmask keeps several war vehicles in his private workshop, the jewel in his crown of terror being the Crocodile. A heavy armored vehicle of immense power... I don't know much more, although I heard stories of a certain internal purge held after Lord Enslaver showed interest in the work of his engineers"

"An armorer needs maintenance, I'm sure he'll have his replacements"

"I heard rumors that he was enslaving mechanics from various surrounding cities.... He decapitated almost all of them, perhaps because they lacked the necessary training, but there was one who survived.... I imagine she will be locked up in the cells of the dome until she agrees to collaborate, or maybe she is already collaborating"

"What is your name?"

"I'm a doctor, not a spy, not a conspirator, not a oracle" For the first time, Nestor smiles sincerely. "It looks like you'll have to go head-on against the boss.... Just remember, if you're aiming at the king, you'd better not miss"

Chester smiles back.

"A proud and dastardly fellow... I've been dealing with that sort since I was a kid! I've had them for breakfast!"

Chester had more or less figured out how to make him jump. And if he fails, he'll improvise.