He spent most of the journey on the bridge of the vessel, exchanging small snippets of his own world and life with his companion in exchange for what little he was told himself. There was little in the way of personal information, as it seemed both men were slow to trust and neither divulged anything of great personal importance. That or neither even had any information of great personal importance. Either way, the duration of the conversations was still outweighed by the duration of the silences. During these times of silence, Arty would often spend long hours standing in front of the main viewport, gazing through his mask at the great emptiness beyond and the shifting stars that shone through. The patterns, or more specifically the method by which they were shifting so suddenly and without the ship seeming to actually move, were absolutely fascinating. This ship was crammed full of some remarkable technology, which was where he spent the remainder of his time, attempting to deduce the mechanisms that powered it. He had little success. It was like trying to read Shakespeare's original plays when the only language you knew was mandarin.

When they finally did arrive, he rejoined the Clockwork man on the bridge to find himself on a planet that quite literally looked like hell. It wasn't the looks, however, that impressed him the most. "Wow... This place is powerful." It felt like there were a hundred thunderstorms all raging through the wasteland at once, and Arty had never felt so much power in his life. It was exciting. Energizing. He felt like he could run a thousand miles flat out. "I think I'm gonna like it here." He stepped off the ship behind his ally and followed him out into the wastes. "So refresh my memory, who are we here to kill again?"