The Gadgeteer Box Set

by Gin Hollan

  After handing him the clothes, she went to the basement freezer and retrieved a rare treat: beef stew. She'd have to thank her housekeeper again. Arabeth knew she'd starve to death without the provisions the woman brought.

  The meal was thoroughly heated before Rorigard emerged from the bedroom, dressed and looking like he'd slept well.

  She pointed to a kitchen chair and served the stew in a large bowl. He'd developed a healthy appetite and was looking less scrawny now. He still had a ways to go, though.

  Howard was the big concern. As Rorigard ate, Arabeth pondered their next steps. When she talked about Chief Harbertrope's likelihood of obtaining an arrest warrant, he seemed unconcerned.

  “What about a citizen's arrest?” he asked. “You have that law here, don't you?”

  “I . . . am not sure?”

  “If you witness a crime, do you have permission to stop the person doing it and deliver them to a lawful authority?”

  “Oh, that. We have it for criminal offences. So far, I can't prove he's got more than intent. Actually, I can't even prove that. I'd need to make a recording and hope the police chief is willing to take it as evidence.”

  “He hit you over the head with a rock.”

  “Well, it didn't make me stupid. Without a witness, it's my word against his.”

  He smirked. “I make a good witness, if you need one. I'm very good at details.”

  That was almost the least of her worries. She had to capture someone who was using the equivalent of magic to evade her. Could she somehow combine both worlds, so to speak? It felt like she had infinite options, with no direction.

  “I appreciate that, but until I know more, I'm useless. I need information,” she responded

  As she stood, Rorigard took hold of her arm. A chill ran up her spine into her hair. Startled, she pulled her arm back and looked down at it. A series of thin gold lines swirled where his hand had been.

  “What did you do?”

  He shook his head, scowling. “That shouldn't be happening.”

  “What did you do to me?” She pointed to the spot where he'd touched her. A radial pattern stretched out, weaving up her arm, under her skin like when she'd absorbed a formula.

  He took a step back, watching her face. As they made eye contact, he seemed to blush. “I. . . . This is going to sound strange, but with the serenthex in stasis . . . that connection is being replaced by a different one. I think my system is looking for a compatible link, a replacement for the serenthex. It will leave you once it realizes you're not one.”

  “Make it stop. It's like an itchy fire under my skin.” She rubbed at her arm, resisting the urge to scratch.

  He reached out and placed his hands above the lines in the direction they travelled. When they reached him, the sensation intensified instead of relenting. The itch soon became an overall hum under her skin as more of her nerves came in contact.

  Rorigard looked mildly distressed by what was happening. “I can't stop it.” He dropped his hands.

  As he did, Arabeth twitched, then reached out and put her hand over the plug on his shoulder. As she did, she thought she heard him gasp, but his face didn't change.

  'Don't do that.' There were words, but no voice. The thought seemed to fill her mind.

  'I can hear you. Why? And can you hear me?' She thought the words, looking into Rorigard's eyes to see if her words travelled into his mind as well.

  He nodded. “This is how my mind connects with the serenthex. It shouldn’t be possible with a human.” He swatted her hand away.

  It had to be the silver in her blood, she knew. It was the one thing that made her different from most of the people on this planet, the thing that let her do things she didn't know were possible. She wanted to be all right with this, but it was too much. As she stared at the lines moving under her skin, she felt a damp heat covering her body as her heart raced. Pulling at her jacket, she tossed it away, not caring where it landed. Shoes and socks followed.

  Rorigard's hand caught hers as she started to unbutton her shirt, desperate to cool off.

  “Arabeth, look at me. Take a deep breath and look at me.”

  Slowly she looked up at him. As their eyes connected, she could hear his voice in her head, low and calm.

  'List prime numbers, starting at one.'

  'Why?'

  'It will help.'

  'I'm burning up.'

  'Arabeth, focus. This isn't harming you. It's foreign, but it's not malicious or damaging.' He started listing prime numbers for her.

  She shook her head but her mind followed along. She stared, unmoving.

  “Arabeth!” he snapped, causing her to jump and look at him. “Look. It's nearly done.”

  She looked at her arms and realized the lines were slowing. As they did, they disappeared.

  Still, she couldn't calm herself. The thought that these lines had invaded her body without her consent, or understanding was beyond her ability to cope.

  Suddenly, Rorigard pulled her by the shoulders to face him squarely. “You're not leaving me a lot of options. I don't want to slap you, but you have to come back to your senses.”

  His speaking out loud instead of directly into her mind helped, she realized. It was the mental invasion that had sent her to the edge of reason.

  “Talk to me. It's helping,” she whispered. “Out loud.”

  He nodded. “Arabeth, you said you'd get me a proper haircut. Can we do that tomorrow?”

  She laughed, throwing her head back and feeling just a little crazy.

  “That is what is pressing on your mind right now?” she asked.

  “Am I wrong?”

  She paused, feeling herself focus as she looked at his hair.

  “Clever. Using concrete, subjective observation to appeal to my rational mind.”

  “Are you saying you like my hair like this?” There was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, making her laugh again, this time out of humour.

  “It's clean and tidy. A clean, medieval hairstyle is always in fashion, isn't it?” she joked back.

  “As long as you like it,” he said, winking, “that's what matters.”

  “Enough, enough.” She chuckled. “I'm fine. A little panic now and then is good for me. It helps me keep perspective.”

  A shadow of something passed across his face and he reached out, taking one of her hands.

  'Really?' he thought into her mind again.

  She jerked her hand back. “That wasn't fair,” she growled.

  He nodded slowly. “None of this is fair. The serenthex choosing stasis instead of helping recapture the most dangerous of the escaped inmates, or the lives of your kinfolk being turned upside down by the same type of people who caused Blastborn to exist in the first place. . . . The undeniable forces that hid your abilities from you. . . . None of this is fair.”

  There was a sense of betrayal in his voice that wrenched at Arabeth's heart. She knew precisely what he meant, and it seemed he had a keener understanding of the shifting dynamics of life in Blastborn than even she had.

  “All I need to know is what your ideal outcome would be,” he added. “Life here can never go back to what it was, but we can work toward your ideal alternate outcome.”

  Arabeth took in a deep breath, considering what that would be. She may not have the right to decide, but it was being laid on her, either way.

  “I want the people of Blastborn to know the truth of their past, but be safe from it.”

  “That's a little ambiguous.”

  She shrugged. “We can work on the details as we go.”

  This time he chuckled. A softness came to his face that hadn't been there since the first day they'd met. As she watched him, she wondered what his ideal outcome would be. Did he really want to go back into stasis? The serenthex had made its choice, and it hadn't been him. How could it operate without him?

  “Machines can't feel fear, can they?” she blurted. If the serenthex was afraid of Howard, that would explain its beh
aviour.

  “Maybe that one can.” Rorigard sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

  A chill ran down Arabeth's spine. If a semi-sentient machine was afraid of Howard, how should she feel?

  She had no fear of death. Every relationship ended at some point. Even trees died, eventually. Sam’s letter had ended their engagement, and his behaviour convinced her it was true. This strange transfer with Rorigard would end, too.

  She needed to focus on today, she sighed. Focus on now.

  “First, I need to keep my promise. You need to look less wild, more trustworthy,” she said.

  He stared a moment, then laughed. “A haircut. You really think that will help us?”

  “Maybe you're right. Clean hair is a good start, and a haircut may seem trivial, but I've learnt that you should never underestimate the feeling of being prepared. Let's get you to a barber.”

  “I'm not sure how to respond to that. I want to think you're kidding, but. . . .”

  Arabeth laughed. “Yes, I’m kidding. We can get you tidied up later. Our next stop is my workshop.” She could face up to Howard and Tamden, as long as it was on her own terms, with her tools and strategies. The serenthex being gone was a blow, but it was not her only hope. She refused to worry about the book, about the formulae. She'd used one unintentionally when she'd needed it. At least they'd somehow remained in her, hidden deep in her memory.

  // Chapter 24 //

  AS THE TWO of them walked into Arabeth's large workshop, Nate was busy fitting a complex pair of fist-size metal cylinders together. It was more like a puzzle than a project, Arabeth noted.

  “Hi Nate, this is Rorigard,” she called out. “He—” She pointed to Nate as he gave an off-hand wave. “—is Nate. He's sort of my assistant, although he's been absorbed in a lot of his own work lately.”

  “There are a lot of men in your life,” Rorigard said, smiling.

  “Odd that you'd make that observation. Jealous?” she said, joking.

  “And if I am?”

  “This is prison talk, I'm sure. You're barely out of stasis. Trust me when I say I'm not looking for romantic entanglement.” She shook her head.

  He considered her a moment then turned to look around the workshop. “What are we doing here?”

  She pointed to a small skimmer in the far corner. “I don't need to swear you to secrecy, do I?”

  “Sailing is forbidden here?” he joked.

  Arabeth rolled her eyes and walked over to the skimmer, but stopped, turning to face Nate.

  “I don't need to swear you to secrecy, either, do I, Nate?”

  “I owe you my life. I think that's caused me enough swearing lately,” he shot back, not looking.

  “Fine, well, don't do anything with acetylene for the next few minutes. I don't have time for a trip to the hospital.”

  She was about to do something that wouldn't be just a simple distraction. When he saw her heat up the lighter-than-air metal attached to the inside of the skimmer, he'd accidentally torch anything within radius simply from the surprise of it, she was sure. With her temperature regulation system in place, she hadn't tested it. Her hopes were high, though. All the physics seemed accurate.

  She'd caught Nate's attention with the acetylene comment and he was watching now.

  “You, stand over there.” She pointed from Rorigard to a wall nearby but out of her way.

  When the skimmer started to leave the ground, she didn't want distractions. It was complicated enough to figure out how to direct an airborne vehicle, let alone one that could fall apart if her temperature-regulating calibrations were off.

  Ignition was presumably the most dangerous time, followed by lift-off. She had to limit her attention to what was in front of her. Nothing about this system was automated.

  Closing her eyes a moment, she said a quick prayer for success. If things went wrong, she'd be talking to the Big Guy in person, and much sooner than she'd planned. Better to pray now.

  “I'm not sure how this will help us get to Howard,” Rorigard said, eyes narrowed.

  “You'll see soon enough,” she replied.

  “Arabeth, I don't know what you're planning, but I agree. We shouldn't risk our lives just getting there,” Nate said, having walked over. “So I'll apologize with an explanation.”

  Rorigard turned to stare a moment, then looked to Arabeth for her reaction. She wasn't watching, having ducked below the skimmer edges. A rough grinding sound followed by a pop made the skimmer shudder. A long moment later, the skimmer lifted off of its stand. Arabeth let it hover a moment before adjusting a dial, lowering it again.

  “What have you done?” Arabeth called out as she stood, not quite angry, but ready to be. Spotting Nate, she jumped over the edge and walked to him. “Explain.”

  “You seemed to be having trouble, so I finished installing it.”

  “Keep talking.”

  “Arabeth, I've heard enough, seen enough, and know you well enough to understand that no matter what happens in this city, you will blame yourself. The only thing I could think was that this skimmer had to be a way to lead the next fight away from here, or go meet it at the source.”

  “This isn't your fight, Nate. You came here to escape that place. I won't ask you to go back.”

  “The problem is, you're a gadgeteer, not a tinker. You think from scratch, with no deep understanding of connecting what's already made. This alloy wouldn't hold the solder you were using, but I modified it. If something else needs to be modified, you're going to need a tinker or start listening in when I talk to myself.”

  “I know how to mod, Nate.”

  “Then how is it this bar came loose every time your little box warmed up?” He leaned in and pointed to one of the long metal braces that kept the device box from floating up when heated.

  She looked into his eyes and wondered what else he knew. Had he tampered with any of her other work?

  “Where I'm from, there is guarded knowledge, methods and techniques that are unusable currently. Until I saw your project, that is. There is only one thing you can be doing.”

  “And exactly what is that?”

  “Lighter-than-air travel, and you have no experience or knowledge in the field. It's flustering you and you're making mistakes.”

  “I'm that transparent, am I?” She sighed, hiding her amusement. Part of this was her fault. She'd put this skimmer and the box here as a way of testing Nate. She'd need help, she knew, and it would be convenient if he'd turned out to be loyal.

  “You actually are.” Rorigard nodded.

  “Oh, you be quiet,” she said, nudging him. Was this good news or bad? “Nate, I think it's time you told me a little more about your home . . . and about how you know this metal well enough to make it adhere.”

  He stared at her a moment. They'd agreed to let him leave his past behind, but that was before it became relevant.

  “My secrets are my own, but I've started to think I need to face up to . . . my past,” he said through a clenched jaw. “Your current method won't get you far. I'll teach you how to work with the metal, but taking me along is the condition. Your refining process is so bad, I wonder how you got the courage to climb in.”

  It was her turn to hesitate. “What do you mean?”

  “There isn't enough actual mogentien in there. You'll barely clear the ground before things fall apart.”

  “And you know this how?” Arabeth challenged.

  There was a shift in his bearing as he looked from Rorigard to Arabeth. “Mogentien's existence is a myth to some, and a threat to others. It's good you've kept its existence to yourself,” Nate countered. “And the ore-smelting specifications are a closely guarded secret.” His look was squarely on Rorigard as he said the last part.

  Rorigard scowled. “I can't tell if you think I'm in on the secret, or a threat to it,” he said, scowling. “But it's never been a myth to me.”

  “Right, right. You're from the past.” There was more than a little skepticism in his v
oice.

  Arabeth ignored them and climbed in to examine Nate's work up close. “Walk me through what you did,” she called out.

  Her kitchen freezer had given her the idea first. It was an experimental model that used a specialized gas to effect cooling, based on the read-out of temperature gauges. Much quieter than industrial counterparts, it was also more sensitive. She'd tried that here, and it worked, but the metal rods that held the box to the skimmer had no such metal in them. Nate was bluffing. Why?

  Arabeth turned and leaned on the edge of the skimmer with crossed arms. “You want to come with us?”

  “Yes,” Nate replied so quickly it startled her.

  Suddenly concerned, Arabeth climbed out and walked over. “You're sure that's a good idea?” His choice to come to Blastborn had been made out of desperation. It made sense that he'd come to regret it eventually. Or maybe regret was too strong a word. “If we can make this safely carry three people, then you're more than welcome.”

  “It will do more than fly. It will sing, once I'm done with it.” He looked sincere, but it was an odd turn of phrase, she thought.

  She sighed. “We don't need the hallelujah chorus. I just need to be able to steer it and get over obstacles instead of taking lengthy detours.”

  “I can make it work. I mean, I've never tried, but I have all the theory.” He rubbed his hands together as though itching to have free rein on the project.

  “Are you confident you can do this?” Arabeth hoped she was making the right decision.

  “Yes, I'm sure.”

  “I want to be present every time you so much as adjust a bolt.” There was an edge to her voice but she had no intention of hiding it. Tampering with another person's gadgeteering was not quite reprehensible, but it was close. Too bad she had no choice but to accept his help now. He'd fixed something that was beyond her experience to handle. She didn't like that one bit.