by J. Stone
“Oh. Wrong order again--Wait... your sister?” he asked.
“Yep,” he replied. “You did help raise her after all. Well done, by the way. She doesn’t turn out half bad from what I’ve seen.”
“You can’t be...” Germ said.
“‘Fraid so,” the young boy replied. “I guess I forgot to mention that later.”
“I thought you were dead,” the rat said.
“Exaggerated rumors and all that, I suppose.” Holding two fingers to the inside of his wrist, just under his palm, Simon continued, “See, heart’s beating strong as...” A baffled expression washed across his face, and he continued, “Well, it seems my heart has been set to pause mode, so I guess that’s a bad example. But trust me. Definitely alive... ish.”
“How did you get in here?” Germ asked. “I thought I was alone in the Pocket.”
“Well, I'm not actually here,” Simon explained before performing a forward flip and landing on his back. “Just one of my many tricks. I thought you could use some company.”
“Do you know how I got here?” Germ asked. “Last I recall, I was in Madam Nightingale's skyship."
“Your master,” Simon said, rolling off the side of the bed. “He wanted more time to search for a cure to the fading serum that flows through you.”
“I never thought he would be so concerned about my death,” the rat replied with a frown on his face.
“You mean a great deal to him,” Simon continued. The boy pulled a yo-yo from a pocket in his gown and proceeded to throw it down before flicking it back up into his hand. “He values your friendship more than you know.”
“That may be, but I’ve had a good life,” Germ said. “I was ready. He doesn’t need to devote this much time and effort to preserving me”
“Regardless, your time on this world… or rather the other one… since you’re sort of in a weird place right now… isn't over,” Simon explained. “You have more to do.”
“Like what?” Germ asked.
“Mmm, right,” the young boy said, seeming to pay more attention to the toy in his hand than their conversation. “Shouldn't have said that, I guess. Future timelines and such nonsense. Anyway, I aim to help you while you're here.”
“So... Do you know how I get out of here?” he asked.
“Of course,” Simon exclaimed with a chipper smile.
“... And would you like to tell me?” Germ attempted to pull the details out of him.
“Of course,” the boy replied again.
“... So how do I get out?” Germ asked.
“Oh, no,” Simon replied shaking his head. “I can't tell you that.”
“But you just said you'd tell me,” Germ said.
“No, I said that I wanted to,” Simon clarified. “And I do. I would too. I just can't. Gotta be careful with everything I know.”
“Something to do with timelines?” Germ asked.
“Sure, if you like,” Simon said, his attention wandering. The string of his toy had become tangled, and he was picking at it to straighten it back out again.
“I don’t suppose you know where I might find some clothes in here?” the rat inquired. “I am rather tired of my nakedness.”
“When this place was created, it took a sort of copy of your master’s mansion,” Simon explained. “Might be something in the closet. Just depends if it was here when he mashed the copy button.”
“Right, I guess I’ll check in the closet then,” Germ said. He walked to the closet as Simon had suggested and swung it open. Inside, there were a few shirts and slacks on hooks. Taking his pick of those that fit the best, the rat clothed himself in the Pocket’s limited selection. His tail uncomfortably was forced to slide down one of the legs of the pants, and he fidgeted to get it somewhere manageable.
“So,” Simon began, having finally finished unwinding the string of his toy and proceeding to fling it toward the ground once more. “Other than being stuck in this creepy, time distorted, hidden dimension and slowly dying in the other one, how have you been?”
“Good, I guess,” Germ said, growing somewhat hopeless with his condition.
“Excellent,” the boy exclaimed. “Focus on that. Things are just going to get worse from here.”
“How do you mean?” Germ asked.
“You know how you said you thought you were alone here?” Simon reminded him.
“Right,” Germ replied.
Simon looked around the seemingly abandoned mansion. “Well, you’re not.”
“Then who else is here?” Germ asked, now looking around as well.
“The others,” Simon said.
“You mean the professor's failed experiments?” Germ asked.
“Them’s the ones,” Simon replied.
“He hasn't used the Pocket in years though,” Germ explained. “I assumed they would be gone by now.”
Simon shook his head admonishingly. “Remember the orientation video! There is no death in the Pocket.”
“Then why haven’t I seen anyone yet?” the rat asked.
“This place is big,” Simon answered. “Like crazy big. Bigger than it should be.” His eyes wandered about the room suspiciously. “There are layers upon layers that you haven’t discovered yet. The others are scattered around here somewhere, and you’re about to find them. Be careful.”
“Careful?” Germ asked. “Why do I need to be careful? I thought you said there was no death here. What would I have to fear?”
“There are fates far worse than death here,” the boy replied, looking around with a strangely serious expression.
“What is it?” Germ asked.
“There’s another coming through,” Simon said.
Flying into the room, from seemingly out of nowhere, came a small skeleton. The bones collided with a dresser against the wall, as if it had been flung by someone. Then, to Germ’s complete surprise, the collection of bones stood and appeared to look around before blindly stumbling about.
Baffled, Germ asked, “How… how…?”
With a smile, Simon repeated, “There’s no death in the Pocket.”
“But… that thing… can’t possibly be alive,” Germ protested.
“In here, it can’t be dead,” the boy said. “No off switch in these parts.”
The skeleton scurried along the wooden floors of the bedroom, bumping into various bits of furniture, seemingly unable to see without any eyes. As it approached Germ by sheer accident, the rat moved out of its way, raising one paw from the floor, not eager to touch the bones.
“What is it?” he asked Simon.
“One of your kind,” the boy explained. “Pre genetically engineered resizing and smart inducing, obviously. Your professor’s latest attempt to understand how to get you out of this world.”
“Oh my,” Germ said. “Simon, do you know if Master Rowland is going to find a way to pull me from here?”
“Yeppers,” he replied.
Germ was beginning to feel that getting answers from Simon was a bit like pulling teeth. “Does he?”
“Can you possibly imagine that your master would ever admit failure?” Simon asked. “He threw his best friend into an alternate reality just to keep him from dying.”
“Hmm,” Germ muttered, while he thought about the possible repercussions to Rowland’s experimentation going on in the other world.
Simon added, “In case that was too veiled, I was talking about you. You’re the one he threw in an alternate reality.”
“Yes, Simon, thank you,” Germ replied blankly.
He began to ask a question of Simon, “How many--”
“Thirty-seven,” he answered before the question was even asked.
“I didn’t even--”
“Finish? Yeah, I know the future if you didn’t realize. Have I not mentioned that?” The question sounded genuine.
“You have,” Germ assured him, rolling his eyes. “Just hard to get used to it, I suppose. So, you’re saying that he’s going to sacrifice the lives of thirty-s
even animals just to get me back?”
“That sounds right,” the boy answered. “Look at the positive. You’re important to him.”
“I suppose I already knew that,” Germ said. “I’m not sure I need thirty-seven lives weighing on me to prove it though.”
“Don’t worry,” Simon said. “You’ve got other things to worry about now.”
“Like what--”
“You’re new!” a voice exclaimed from behind Germ.
Startled, the rat turned around and stumbled backward a bit. Floating at about eye level to him was a strange and rather unique looking creature. The beast was built similarly to a fox - pointed ears, reddish brown fur, fluffy tail, and even black shaded fur at its feet, but it also had a pair of mid-sized wings protruding from its back. The wings were fleshy, looking like that of a bat, but they were colored to match the fur on the creature’s back. There was also the alarming detail of it apparently being able to speak.
“Who… who… are you?” Germ managed to utter.
“That’s Finly,” Simon explained.
“I’m Finly,” the fox echoed, flapping its wings and raising its altitude after a bit of a dip. “Who are you?”
“Uh… My name is Germ,” the rat replied. Turning to Simon, he softly asked, “Should I worry about him?”
“Worry about who?” Finly asked, looking around.
“He can’t see or hear me,” Simon explained, attempting to untie yet another knot he’d managed to work into the string of his yo-yo. “Bah! I gotta go. Empresses to belittle and such. You be careful now, Germy.”
“But you didn’t--” Germ stopped, as Simon seemingly vanished before his eyes.
Finly stared at the rat with a confused expression.
“Never mind,” Germ said. “Just talking to myself I guess.”
“I suppose we’re all allowed a little mental break now and again,” the flying fox admitted. “How did you get here?”
“Master Rowland sent me here to prolong my life,” Germ explained.
“Master Rowland?” the fox asked. “You mean the creator?”
“I suppose so,” he agreed.
“He sent me here so very long ago,” Finly said. “I’m not even sure what I did wrong anymore. Maybe if I prove myself, he’ll bring me back.”
Not wanting to take away the fox’s hope, Germ simply said, “I suppose that’s possible.”
“Come on, let me introduce you to the others,” Finly suggested. “They’d love to meet someone new. It’s been so long, since we had anyone new here.”
“I don’t know…” Germ replied.
“Come on,” the fox prodded. “What else are you going to do around here?”
Looking about the room, Germ seemed to realize that he might be there a while. Perhaps it would be best to meet the others and find a way to pass the time. He would just have to be careful like Simon had warned. “Alright, Finly. Lead the way.”
Chapter 15. Ryn’s Skill
Erynn slept comfortably in her bed alongside Pearl that early morning. They each lay on their sides, curled up next to one another. Erynn was behind Pearl and rested one arm under her companion’s neck, while her other had settled next to her bellybutton. Just barely dawn, the morning light was beginning to peek through the narrow window at the top of their basement room.
She planned to work on fixing the fusion chamber, but she otherwise had no plans for the day. They certainly didn’t involve waking up that early. The loud knock on the mansion door, therefore, caught her by surprise. Groaning, her eyes opened into fuzzy slits, and she began to adjust them to the light. The noise seemed to have woken Pearl up as well, and releasing a soft moan, she twisted around to face Erynn.
“Expectin’ somebody?” she asked.
“Not that I know of,” Erynn replied. She slithered her arm out from under Pearl’s neck and pushed the comforter away from her. “But whoever that is, I hate them,” Erynn continued, getting out of bed.
“Mmm kay,” Pearl murmured, still half asleep and already closing her eyes to get back there.
Dressed only in her skivvies and already cold, Erynn looked around for something to quickly throw on. Hanging from a rack near the door was Pearl’s long brown coat, so she grabbed it and threw it on, holding it clasped together with one hand. Her hair was a red, tangled mess, and she scratched her scalp, mangling it even more. She climbed the stairs and made her way into the mansion’s foyer, her bare feet slapping against the cold wooden floor. Unlocking the latch, Erynn swung open the door with squinted eyes, as the sun and cold wind burst through. Silhouetted against the light were Vincent and his friend Cassie.
“Clover,” he said.
“I hate you so much right now,” she groaned.
“My arm ready?” he asked, ignoring her statement.
Erynn left the door open and slunk back toward her room, allowing Vincent and Cassie to come inside. “Meet me in my workshop,” she said pointing her arm in that direction. “I need to put on pants.”
“Don’t dress up on my account,” he called behind her, as she wandered away.
Groggily, she returned to the bedroom to find that Pearl had indeed fallen back to sleep. Not wanting to disturb her, Erynn used the scarce light coming in through the window to find a set of clothes to wear. She hung Pearl’s coat back up on the hook and slipped on socks, a pair of jeans, and a button-up shirt. Still cold, she grabbed a light jacket and threw it on as well.
Clothed, she made her way back through the downstairs hallway to the workshop she’d set up in the back of the mansion. Her work on the mechanical limb that Vincent had requested had been relatively easy for her to put together after all her work on Tern over the years. She’d finished building it the previous day, and she entered her workshop and grumpily motioned for Vincent to sit at a table at the center of the room. Cassie sat beside him, while Erynn retrieved the mechanical limb from her workbench. After grabbing it, she picked up a set of tools and joined them at the table, sitting across from Vincent and dropping the arm and tools down between them. The arm was coated in a smooth layer of metal, and each of the moving joints nearly seamlessly joined together in one cohesive piece. Attached to the arm were a set of straps that would help hold it in place. One was intended to strap around the base of his arm, while the other would stretch around to the other side of his neck.
She had once before made an artificial limb along with Rowland’s help. This new one was modeled after her first attempt, but with several improvements from her last design. The metal and flesh only ever met at a surface level, and with Rowland’s assistance, Erynn had been able to construct a method by which the brain could send signals to the limb remotely. Essentially, a burst of electricity could be wirelessly teleported from his brain to the chip inside the arm. From a mechanical standpoint, she understood how it worked, but the biological nature of the signal had required Rowland to help piece together the necessary components. She had kept all her schematics from that first arm, and rebuilding a new limb and the accompanying remote signaling device for Vincent had been relatively simple.
“Take off the shirt,” Erynn instructed the bounty hunter.
Vincent complied, partially managing this time without Cassie’s assistance. He shook and wriggled his duster off on his own, unbuttoned his shirt with his one remaining hand, but she then had to help him actually remove it. As Cassie aided him, Erynn could plainly see that it irritated him to need the help. She suspected he didn’t appreciate the fact that he needed help with anything, as he’d always struck her as a very solitary and self-sufficient individual. Once the shirt was off, Erynn picked up the mechanical limb and slung the leather straps around the opposite side of his neck, resting them loosely across his chest and on his shoulder.
“Hold this here,” she asked of Cassie, nodding to the base of the limb. While Cassie held the mechanical arm in place, Erynn tightened the leather straps that were set up on the side shoulder. One wrapped around where metal met flesh, and the other
stretched vertically over his shoulder. Once they were firmly in place, she tightened the series of straps that were slung across his shoulder, chest, and back.
“Pearl still asleep?” Cassie asked her.
“Yep, which is where I should be.” Erynn glared at the bounty hunter, as she worked.
“That’s my fault,” Cassie replied. “I’m just eager to get him up and functioning again.”
“Eh, don’t worry about it,” the chromesmith said. “I’ll just keep blaming Vincent, here.”
“Mmhmm,” he simply groaned.
“That feel okay?” Erynn asked him.
“Aside from the grating metal against my fresh wound?” he replied. “Yeah, feels great.”
“Crybaby,” she replied, backing up.
“Want me to let go?” Cassie asked Erynn.
“Yeah, let’s see how it hangs,” she replied.
Cassie released the arm, and it fell limply to the table with a hard thunk.
“I assume it’s not supposed to be such dead weight,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, yeah. Keep your pants on.” Erynn stood up and walked back to her workbench, where she retrieved the biomechanical implant that would teleport the electrical commands to the arm. She returned to Vincent with the item but realized that she would need to clean the area of his neck first. “Wait here.”
Erynn left the workshop, finding her way into the kitchen. In one of the cabinets, she had kept a bottle of gin. She wasn’t a huge fan of the drink, but it was always good for cleaning gears if nothing else. For now, though, it would serve as a disinfectant for Vincent’s neck. Returning with the bottle, she doused both the back of the device and Vincent’s skin with the alcohol.
Setting the bottle on the table, she informed Vincent, without eliciting any real sympathy, “This is going to hurt.”
He picked up the bottle from the table and took a heavy swig, but Cassie then stole it from him and kept it out of his reach. Ignoring the disapproving expression on her face, Erynn placed the device at the base of his neck. The thin, rectangular mechanism had a series of tiny metal rods along its edge. Pushing the device down, so that each of the little rods pierced his skin, blood trickled down from under the contraption. Vincent struggled to not move, clenching his fist into a ball. He didn’t cry out from the pain, managing to only grunt a bit. The device penetrated down enough, so that his skin would partially grow over it, holding it in place. For now, however, he would need a bandage taped over its back.