“MERCURIO!” Aunt Temperance shouted again. The plea in her voice was sharp and painful.
Captain Traxx hurled a rope over the side. It unspooled alongside Klaxon. He contemplated the rope for a moment, then his eye telescoped back. He lowered his head and turned away from the ship to stare at the river of sludge before him.
“Take the rope!” Aunt Temperance beseeched him.
“He’s repudiated us,” Traxx replied solemnly. “He’s repudiated you. We must leave this place, before the entire crew is endangered.”
She turned to leave the bow, but Aunt Temperance clutched her arm. “We must save him.”
“Must?” Traxx snarled, twisting out of Aunt Temperance’s grasp. “Only he can save himself.” She began marching across the deck.
“Heartless pirate!” Aunt Temperance jeered. “It’s that easy for you, isn’t it?”
Captain Traxx pivoted on a heel, freckles flaring. She looked like she was about to erupt—possibly into tears, Ozzie realized. The pirate queen crossed her arms and stared Aunt Temperance down.
“It’s not easy for me at all. And it’s not the first time in my life that I’ve tried to save that man.” She drew a deep breath. “He was my brother.”
Ozzie nearly dropped Scoot’s head. Aunt Temperance gasped and fell back against the railing. “What? How . . . if—how can you leave him?”
Ozzie was thinking the same thing. The ship had already changed course, was already churning away through the smog. Traxx stormed back to the railing and stared at Klaxon, floating on the sludge and scum. Ozzie did the same, but the moto-man was quickly becoming a blurry dot in the haze.
“He was my brother,” Captain Traxx repeated. “But I do not think he has been for a long, long time. I had to . . .” She paused, her fiery eyes flitting to Aunt Temperance. “Let him go,” she said softly.
Then she clasped her hands behind her back, stalked slowly across the deck, and disappeared into her cabin below.
Ozzie already knew how difficult it was to track time in interstitial space. Feeling exhausted didn’t help. He spent most of his second journey aboard the Empyrean Thunder sleeping. Sometimes his dreams danced with visions of his alternate life in the simulation, but whenever he awoke, the memories were faint and blurry. He had a feeling that he would eventually forget that life completely.
Lady Zoone was given a private cabin to share with Aunt Temperance, who fed her sips of Arborellian nectar, tended to her like a nurse, and guarded her like a treasure. She wouldn’t let the others come to see her—though they tried. There was only one exception; as soon as Lady Zoone was well enough, she beckoned Captain Traxx to her bedside.
The pirate queen stayed in the cabin for almost an hour while Ozzie lingered at the door, wondering what they could be talking about. When Traxx reappeared, she looked worn and sheepish.
“What did she say?” Ozzie dared to ask, following the pirate to the top deck. They had now left Moton far behind; their view was once again of colorful nebulae and swirling stars.
“It was a private conversation,” Traxx retorted. “But, if you must know . . . she wanted to thank me for the rescue. Hah! I wouldn’t have picked her up if I had known she was the steward of the nexus.” Her freckles flashed hot. “She wants me to consider giving up pirating. And the first order of business? Help a couple of wizards infiltrate the slave markets of Kardoome so they can shut them down.”
“What do you think?” Ozzie asked.
“I’ve been a pirate a long time.”
“Is that what you told Lady Zoone?”
Captain Traxx grunted. “Yes. And she said she cared a lot less about who I am and more about who I want to be.”
Ozzie nodded, contemplating the starscape. “That sounds like Lady Zoone.”
The Empyrean Thunder dropped them off right where it had first captured Ozzie and his friends: on the track between Eridea and Zoone. The tunnel was mending itself, but there was still a hole large enough for them to slip through. Ozzie was glad to see that the track itself was slowly trundling along; the way to Zoone would still be open.
They put Lady Zoone atop Tug and only had to wait for Fidget; the princess had been delayed by Captain Traxx and was the last to join them on the track.
“What did she want?” Ozzie asked her as they headed toward the faded blue door at the end of the tunnel.
Fidget gave him a cryptic look. “I’ll tell you another time.”
He would have pestered her about it, but then they were through the door, and instantly greeted by the warm and familiar buzz of Zoone. Ozzie was relieved to see that the station was in full and vibrant operation. Doors were opening and closing, travelers were darting across the platforms, and porters were collecting their bags and checking tickets. There wasn’t a moto in sight.
Fidget nudged Ozzie. “Look, they’re repainting the station.”
“Turquoise again,” he said with relief as they began plodding toward the magnificent building.
“Just to tell you,” Tug added, “I think blue is my favorite color.”
“Hey, guyth!” came a nearby voice.
Ozzie turned to see that they were passing by Door 457 to Jeongo. The door knocker that looked part dragon and part sun was grinning jamb to jamb.
“I’m tho glad to thee you guyth again!” the door knocker lisped. “Welcome thome!”
The nexus wasn’t completely back to normal. Ozzie learned that the motos in Zoone had all suddenly collapsed due to Scoot’s shutdown sequence, allowing Miss Mongo and the rest of the Zoone Underground to regain control of the station. Now came the hard work of getting everything back in working order. At lot of this seemed to involve Fusselbone running around, issuing orders, and compiling complicated new schedules.
“It’s a preposasterous time,” Fusselbone confided to Ozzie. “Wonderfully preposasterous!”
Mr. Whisk was back in his tinker’s shop, Miss Mongo was back in her kitchen with Panya and Piper, and Minus was back to moaning.
“Though who knows for how long?” the glum green-haired boy wondered when Ozzie saw him again. “I could drop dead at any minute.”
Ozzie happily threw himself into his old job of porting luggage for the multiversal travelers—anything to help the station get back on its feet. In his free time, he hung out with Fidget and Tug, and Scoot—sort of. Even though there wasn’t the slightest spark of life in the moto, Ozzie carried around her head whenever he could. He just felt like she should be with him. Mr. Whisk was diligently working on a new body for her, trying to figure out how to resurrect her. He had the spare moto parts, the spare amelthium crystals; it was just a matter of time, or so he promised Ozzie.
Weeks passed, and life fell into a routine. One day, after a long shift porting luggage on the platforms, Ozzie was sitting on one of the terraces of the crew tower, watching the Zoone sunset. Fidget was still at work in the inn, and Tug was still finishing dessert (according to the skyger, he needed extra to help his wing heal). For the moment, it was just Ozzie and Scoot’s head.
“Another beautiful evening sky in the nexus,” came a voice from behind him. “It’s left many a traveler mesmerized.”
Ozzie peered over his shoulder to see Lady Zoone standing behind him. She still looked thin and pale; she was like the station, slowly returning to full health. She tottered over, stood beside Ozzie, and gazed ahead at the vista of the damaged turquoise forest.
“It will regrow eventually,” Lady Zoone remarked. The birds and rodents had returned to nest in her hair; they chirped and chittered in agreement. “Why don’t you tell me about your friend?” she asked.
“Huh?” It took him a moment to realize she was referring to Scoot. Well, her head at least. “Oh. She saved us, you know. She shut down Moton.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“She’s not like the other motos,” Ozzie assured her. “She’s different.”
“Then she’ll fit right in here.”
“She has to get fixed first,” O
zzie continued. “And I’m not sure if . . .” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.
Lady Zoone released a long, creaky sigh. “The truth is, Ozzie, that some things in life simply can’t be fixed. Or they take a long time. But some of those are things you can’t afford not to fix.”
“You’re talking about Mercurio,” Ozzie gleaned. “But he did try to fix himself. He tried to fix everything. Just . . .”
“In the wrong way,” Lady Zoone said. “When he first showed up at the station, I didn’t comprehend how far his heart and mind had spiraled. I tried to nurture him, tried to help him. My dear old friend . . .” One of the birds in her hair issued a mournful tweet. “He pulled the moss right over my eyes. I thought your aunt could help him. I thought we could help him. But once he showed me that terrible Destiny Machine, I knew he was lost. Mercurio turned his back on emotion: love, hate, and everything in between. He tried to shut down. And the consequences were terrible.”
It was like Aunt Temperance had said, Ozzie thought: What if pain is important? He traced a finger along one of the crooked seams on the side of Scoot’s head. “You think I should go back to Eridea.”
“Is that what you think?”
Ozzie shrugged.
“And your other option?”
“Stay here. Forget about Eridea. Forget about boarding school.”
“And your parents,” Lady Zoone added.
“They seem to forget about me,” Ozzie replied.
It was a long time before Lady Zoone replied. “The door is open,” she said cryptically. Then she turned to rustle away.
Ozzie lingered at the doorway to Eridea, Tug and Fidget huddled around him, Scoot’s head cradled in his arms. Aunt Temperance was off to the side, quietly conversing with Lady Zoone. Many other members of the crew had assembled: Cho, Miss Mongo, Fusselbone, and Mr. Whisk. Even the quirl was there, preening her one bent ear.
“Do you really have to go, Ozzie?” Tug asked, butting his massive head against his arm.
“The door’s working now,” Ozzie consoled the skyger. “I can come back anytime. But meanwhile . . . yeah, I have to go. There’s things I need to deal with.”
“We understand,” Fidget told him. “But you’re not going to take Scoot’s head, are you?”
Ozzie shrugged. “I don’t just want to leave her lying around in some dusty corner of Mr. Whisk’s shop. I know it’s stupid, but what if she gets lonely?”
“I’ll look after her,” Fidget said.
“Really?” Ozzie said. “But you hate her.”
“I don’t hate her,” Fidget argued. “She’s just extremely annoying. But still, she’s one of us. You know, a . . .”
“Member of our crew,” Tug finished for her.
“Yeah,” Fidget said. “Something like that.”
Ozzie nodded and passed Scoot’s head to her.
“Don’t worry,” Fidget assured him. “Before we know it, Mr. Whisk will fix her and she’ll be rolling around, irritating me again.” She was smiling as she said it.
“You know, there’s one thing you still haven’t told me,” Ozzie said. “What happened on the pirate ship? What did Traxx say to you?”
“She tried to convince me to be her first mate again,” Fidget replied. “She said that I’m good in a sticky situation.”
“And a fight,” Tug supplied.
Fidget grimaced. “I don’t want to fight my way through the worlds. I want to be something else.”
“Like what?” Ozzie wondered. “A princess?”
“I’m no princess.” She gave him a hesitant look. “Promise not to laugh?”
“Why would I do that?”
“I don’t want to solve problems with my fists all the time,” Fidget said. “That’s just how I’ve survived so far. What I really want to do is help the ’verse. Places like Untaar. Ru-Valdune. Even Quoxx has its problems; big ones. I want to be an advocate. An ambassador. Maybe a diplomat.”
“That’s cool,” Tug said.
“You don’t know what any of those things are, do you?” Ozzie asked the skyger.
Tug twitched his tail, nearly knocking Ozzie down. “Sure. It’s helping people be weird.”
“Huh?” Ozzie said.
“You know, even if they don’t seem like they fit in with everyone else, like the type of people you see in TV Land,” Tug explained. “It’s making sure they still have a place.”
“Your brain’s a Quoggsmire,” Fidget told the skyger. “But you’re kind of right.”
Aunt Temperance came over and put a hand on Ozzie’s shoulder. “Well? Shall we get going?”
Ozzie nodded, but Fidget pulled at his sleeve. “You never said what you thought of my plan,” she whispered. “What do you think?”
Ozzie contemplated her, part of him wondering why his opinion even mattered to her. Usually, she was more like a big sister—she did the telling, not the asking. But she was staring at him intently, her eyes radiating a deep purple fire. He finally said, “I think anyone who is capable of juggling three deluxe household blenders can do anything she puts her mind to.”
“Where in the worlds did you get that idea from?” Fidget asked.
Ozzie stood on the threshold of the doorway and laughed. “Actually,” he admitted, “I’m not entirely sure.”
33
Fair Warning
Apartment 2B hadn’t skipped a beat; it looked exactly the same as when they had left it. The potted fern Tug had knocked over with his tail was still sprawled across the hardwood floor. Aunt Temperance’s circus poster was still hanging on the wall, though one corner had become unfastened and was dangling. The mechanical cricket was perched on the coffee table.
Aunt Temperance crossed the floor and opened the curtains to let in the afternoon sun. Then she turned, leaned against the sill, and seemed to examine the room as if for the first time. Her hair had been braided into an extravagant nest of buns and braids, the silver strands intertwining with the brown. It was a style that had seemed so natural in Zoone, but it didn’t feel out of place in Apartment 2B, either, Ozzie thought.
The truth was that he hadn’t seen much of Aunt Temperance the past few weeks in Zoone. He had known how much she had been forced to deal with, how much she had to think about, and he had been happy to give her space. And, to be perfectly honest, he had been equally happy to avoid difficult subjects like going back to Eridea. But now he had made the decision to come home and . . . well, here they were.
“There are things we should discuss,” Aunt Temperance said. “Maybe I’ll make us some hot chocolate.” She moved toward the kitchen.
Ozzie crossed his arms. “I’m not going to Dreerdum’s.”
“I’m not going to let you,” Aunt Temperance said, stopping at the doorway to the kitchen.
Ozzie exhaled. “I’ll talk to them. Mom and Dad. I’ll tell them.”
Aunt Temperance made her way to him, put her hand on his shoulder. “We’ll talk to them together.”
Ozzie nodded. “And . . . what about you? Now, after everything?”
“I had a lot of discussions with Zaria these past weeks,” Aunt Temperance replied. “There are so many things I didn’t fully understand before. About me. About my grandfather. Our family has a connection to Zoone, Ozzie. It always has, I suppose.” She hesitated. “But that’s not the reason I walked through that door down in The Depths.”
Ozzie noticed that her gaze had wandered over to the mechanical cricket on the coffee table. Mercurio’s cricket. She picked up the little creature, cupping it in her hands. “I spent so long hiding,” she said softly. “Hiding from the past. Hiding from you. Hiding from myself.” She carried the cricket to the nearby bookshelf and placed it next to her dog-eared collection of Shakespeare plays.
She’s keeping it out, as a reminder, Ozzie perceived. Maybe even a warning. Just like the statue that Lady Zoone keeps in her study. He was suddenly struck with the vivid image of a little kid getting tripped and falling face-first on the cement
. Except, to his own surprise, Ozzie wasn’t the kid getting bullied—he was the one doing the tripping. Ozzie couldn’t remember doing it, but it felt real, like it had actually happened. And it caused him to shiver.
“What is it?” Aunt Temperance asked.
“Something happened in the Machine,” he explained. “I went through a different sort of doorway. I don’t really remember it, but I know I saw a different side of . . . me. A me I didn’t like.”
“Captain Traxx called us the guardians of Zoone,” Aunt Temperance said thoughtfully. “But Zoone is something more than just a place, Ozzie. I think it’s me. It’s you. That’s what we have to guard and keep safe. Otherwise, it can get devoured. It can disappear. Then other things take over—insidious things.”
She was speaking with such passion and vigor; in some ways, she reminded Ozzie of Lady Zoone, even though he wasn’t even sure exactly what she was talking about.
“I now understand why my grandfather left me this apartment,” Aunt Temperance continued. “Why he left me his key. There was a life he hoped I would embrace.”
A life at Zoone, Ozzie thought. “You’re going back?”
“I hope to. Many times.”
“No, but I meant—you could live there,” Ozzie suggested. “Permanently.”
Aunt Temperance considered this a moment. “Yes, I could.”
He sensed a “but” standing at the door, ready to knock. Just like old times.
“But I think there’s something bigger out there for me,” Aunt Temperance continued pensively. “Something more important for me to do than simply moving to Zoone.”
What could that be? Ozzie wondered. What’s bigger than the nexus? Then it occurred to him: The entire multiverse.
He stared at her, marveling at her again. She had sacrificed so much, but now she looked truly alive. Truly happy.
Ozzie mustered his courage, stood up, and crossed over to her. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m going to be fine. You can go. You . . . you should go.”
Aunt Temperance merely laughed. “Nice try. I’m staying with you, Ozzie.”
Then what about the “but”? he wondered. What about the multiverse? “You already—you gave up a lot.” He swallowed. “For me.”
The Guardians of Zoone Page 26