Then she commenced a slow walk around the scrapheap, chanting 'Hail the Traveller. Hail the unalive who made the cats play nice. Blonde of colour, but brave and bold as a Kang should be.' She went around the console. 'Hail the Traveller. Hail the unalive who made all of space sound and safe. Blonde of colour, but brave and bold as a Kang should be.' Another lap, her feet growing sore in their runners. 'Hail the Traveller. Hail the unalive who show-and-telled us amazing things. Blonde of colour, but brave and bold as a Kang should be...'

Once the Fifth Traveller had been thrown on the scrapheap (figuratively, and with much solemn mourning), Smoke Alarm had tracked back to the bookery to check-out the new Traveller. Now she'd had a chance to properly grieve and farewell her old friend, she felt rather better about meeting the new.

But she was sad and unbrave to eyespy this Traveller acting like a pussycat, meowing and crouching and even coughing up a furball of that weird goldy mist stuff. Had the Cheetah thing gotten to her at last? Smoke Alarm couldn't think that they'd done all this to stop the Cheetahring, only for Traveller to change into a Hunter herself.

But there were other things, the Traveller's talk of her old friends and lives, the blue in her hair, that made her hold out hope that Traveller was still in there. 'Trav?' Smoke queried softly and wonderingly, outlooking for her old friend in the new.

Then this Traveller wanted to do the how-you-do, and Smoke Alarm had to accept. Setting her face hard, Smoke confronted the Traveller. She stepped forward, making a fist as her right arm came up and across, somewhere between a punch and a block. Then her left hand brought it down, the fist released with an open palm. She stepped forward again, mirroring the last movement, as her left arm rose up and across her body, before her right hand brought it down, her fist opening.

Next, she raised both hands and clapped, the smack echoing through the library. She kept both hands up, palms to the Traveller's, in a martial echo of pat-a-cake. At last, Smoke Alarm bobbed a curtsey and bowed her head to the Traveller.

A one-Kang scrapheap is a sad and lonely thing.  But it doesn't stay that way for long.

As Smoke Alarm dislodges access panels from the console room walls, this naturally attracts the attention of some of Us who make their way out of the wainscoting. And while they join in step with Smoke's clockways procession around the scrapheap, some of the kitlings also poke their noses into the room.  They form a wider circle, slinking widdershins around the path of Smoke and the (somewhat more apprehensive) Us.

A pair of whirlybots complete the ceremony, going whop whop whop and making their own grand orbit around it all.

Driftwood: You always need people. You could never do anything on your own. You're useless.

The 5th Traveller: I'm never alone, even when I am. That's how I always win.

Malakai: You're always going places. You're an explorer, not a fighter, really.

As Trav performed the how-you-do, Smoke Alarm outlooked on expectantly and anxiously. This Trav did the how-you-do better than before, as well as even Sereth could. Yet Smoke was concerned that she seemed to be just how-you-doing her for the first time, seemingly not rememorising her and Stan.

But as their hands touched for the second time, Smoke Alarm got the knowhow, realising she was how-you-doing an old friend for the first time again too. 'Yes!' Smoke Alarm burst out, happy and sad at the same time, hugging Traveller tight. 'But Build High For Happiness is for goodbyes and good lucks.' she sobbed laughing into her shoulder.

After eyespying the Traveller run off on all paws, Smoke Alarm outlooked worriedly to Stan. 'Is this a game or...?'

Stanley politely declines any of the offered food.

She got up now, and took in her surroundings. No-one here. She eyed the tower. And all those sparkling buttons. She leapt to her feet, not seeing any Hunters or even Kitlings about, and went over closer. She wondered what...

Smoke Alarm, who was very used to sudden changes in orientation (though usually her own), surefooted as a Kang, nimbly kept her balance as the kitchen tipped sideways. She tried to catch Traveller and stopsign her falling. 'Floorquake! We're not shape-ship and sound! What's ongoing?'