Mark Johnston 🍁

@markjohnston905.bsky.social

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Dad, teacher, author (author.mrjohnston.ca)

25: Moonlight Bert and Sana had been split up from the group and were planting new bushes in a field beside an open space where workers were trying to repair a trebuchet that hadn’t been firing properly. Bert saw an opportunity and decided to speak up. “Not to interfere, but I’ve seen diagrams on the workings of a trebuchet before,” he said quietly, keeping his eyes to the ground. In many ways, talking to a guard was just like talking to a dragon for the first time. Eyes low, look small, small movements. One guard laughed, but the other looked up. “A try-bush-aye, huh? Didn’t even know what it was called. You think you can fix this?” Bert didn’t dare correct the man. “I can take a look, at least.” “Well, come on then.” The guard waved him over. “You,” he said to Sana, “keep planting.” She offered him a hiss in return and rolled her eyes at Bert as he walked over. Bert had always been good with machines, and he stood looking at the trebuchet for a moment, comparing it to his memory of the diagrams Eldritch had in his tower. “Can you fire something small over the wall?” he asked. He thought he might see an issue, but wanted proof. The men loaded a small rock and fired the device. The rock flew true, but not very far, especially for a smaller rock. Bert nodded and climbed up the device and into the counterweight box. It hung on the short side of the arm, opposite the basket where ammunition was loaded. It was meant to act as the weight that launched whatever projectile into the air. Bert noticed the rocks inside the counterweight box were mostly to one side. As the counterweight fell, it was scraping the side of the trebuchet frame and slowing itself. As a result, it wasn’t firing with the intended full power. He kicked the rocks around and moved a few of the heavier ones, spacing them out evenly in the box. He climbed back out. “Try now,” he said, standing near the counterweight to watch it fall.
The melee had always been Bert’s favorite. The idea of knights roaming around on foot with nothing but their wits and blunted weapons to gain a victory was thrilling! ​Thronewarden Garrick Crowe had also created three new events for the tournament that Bert had never seen. First was a trebuchet-loading event where contestants would load heavier and heavier stones into a trebuchet. The trebuchet was a large wooden piece of equipment that used a swinging arm to fire the rocks an unimaginable distance. Bert had seen the stones and the sizes were incredible. To make it harder, they would have to load them one after the other until they gave up. Heaviest final stone would win. ​A second new event was a javelin throwing event. All the javelins were larger than the usual ones, and had a much larger spike on the end. Contestants had been allowed to train with the specialized javelins for a while before today to get used to the weight and flight. ​The final new event was an archery event. Rather than try and hit far-away targets, the contestants were tasked with firing a series of large arrows from a very heavy longbow. The challenge was not to be the most accurate, but rather to get the arrow as high as possible. A thin rope tied to the arrow would mark the distance fired. ​Eldritch himself had designed the trebuchet, javelin and arrows. They were all made for a specific purpose: knocking a dragon from the air. Even a fully grown dragon would be devastated if the large rocks from a trebuchet could connect with it in the air. If thrown with enough force, the wicked tip of the javelin would also do serious damage. The arrows wouldn’t take out a dragon, but many archers firing could likely make a dragon think twice about attacking. Perhaps a poison or other substance could be added to the arrow tips as well. Bert hoped Eldritch knew of no such substance, but something told him the man probably did. A better hope was that he would keep it secret rather than share it with Crowe …
Days passed and Bert’s excitement about being in a real adventure faded quickly. He had spent the better part of a full day trying to get through a swamp. He had ended up turning back around, covered in mosquito bites and with some sort of blood-sucking worm attached to his leg inside his boot. He had discovered the blood sucker while emptying out the brackish water that had filled both his boots. While sitting on the wet dirt, looking down at his pruned feet with peeling, white, wet skin, he realized that the adventure books he had read as a boy had skipped some seriously tedious stuff. ​Trying a new route to continue deeper into dragon territory had led him to a seemingly endless growth of thorn bushes. He had been lucky to shoot a few rabbits with his bow, but otherwise had just continued walking. He had kept telling himself the bushes had to thin out eventually, but they never had. He had tried cutting them with his sword, and it had worked for a while, but swinging that thing hard enough to cut bushes was a lot harder in reality than it had seemed in his head. He had ended up with sore muscles and a partially dulled blade.
2: Welcome ​Max tried to process what the robot could possibly be talking about when an unseen door slid open on the opposite wall. Max got a brief look of what was on the other side of the door. Whatever facility he was in was just as clean and sanitary as his room. He looked to the robot briefly, but it said nothing. Moments later, a man and a girl walked in to the room. The man was tall and thin, with a closed bag in one hand and a stethoscope around his neck. He was clearly a doctor. ​The girl walked in front of the doctor, which struck Max as strange. She looked about Max's age, smaller than him. She looked serious, like she was trying to prove something to someone, or perhaps to herself. Her hair was pulled tight in a bun and her face showed no emotion—her lips pressed tight together, her eyes sharp and serious. Her hands were behind her back, but she held a tablet there. Max considered talking, but decided to wait. She was pretty, but she looked strange in her uniform—like a kid trying on their father's business suit. No matter how serious she tried to look, it didn't suit her. Her eyes held more depth than that. ​"Oh, the patient is awake! Can you speak?" the doctor asked quickly. His tone suggested he had done this a million times before, like he was about to run through steps he was bored of. He sighed as he leaned down beside Max's chair, placing the ends of the stethoscope in his own ears. Rather than place the large end on Max's chest, he looked toward the girl. ​"I can," Max replied simply. "Speak, that is." As he spoke, he noticed the girl nod at the doctor and felt the cold metal end of the stethoscope press against his chest. Rather than bite at him, the cold actually helped clear his mind further. ​"Worker seems clear-headed and docile," she said to her tablet. "Oddly aware, his eyes moving quickly." ​"He's strong, vitals are clear," the doctor added quietly, speaking directly to the girl.
Bert nodded, twisting his neck side to side as if he could drain the fog in his mind through his ears like water after a deep dive. “I understand, Mother.” ​Dray placed a hand on his shoulder. “Relax, Bertram. You have done much for us already. None doubt where your loyalty lies.” ​Cat frowned slightly at this. ​Dray chuckled. “And to you as well, Queen Catrin.” He gave a practiced bow. “He will always straddle two worlds. We know that. We just hope he understands ours even better now. Or perhaps will in time.” ​“We all serve peace,” Cat said quickly, earning nods all around. ​“So,” Bert said, breaking a tense quiet, “why don’t I remember anything?” ​Cat answered this. “You were out for a while, then came to and said, I know how to bring about peace.” She frowned slightly. “You sounded older, like it was something you had learned through practice and were sure of. It sounded like a craftsman saying, I know how to make a barrel, I’ve been doing it my whole life! It was...strange, but powerful.” ​Bert shrugged. “Sounds pretty amazing, actually. Wish I could remember it.”
Cat opened and closed her mouth a few times, wanting someone to argue with, but Dray’s words were true. The dragon was relaxed and unconcerned. “Is all well?” Bert asked suddenly, his eyes still closed. Cat stifled herself, a choking sound holding back her tears. “All is well, Bert,” she managed to get out. “How do you feel?” “Hot. Cold. My mind is…fuzzy. Fuzzed?” He folded his body up to a sitting position, finally opening his eyes. The brightness of the early morning hurt them after being closed so long. “Where are we?” Cat looked to Dray and the Earth Mother before answering. “At a stone circle, not far from Sue’s Manor. What do you remember?” “Sana,” Bert said, holding back tears himself. “Our deal with Arnaud. Meeting you on the field outside Cadenport. I’m not sure what else after…” He trailed off. “Not gone, then,” the Earth Mother said quickly. “But his learning is,” Dray said just as quickly. The Earth Mother nodded. “What are they talking about?” Bert asked, patting Cat on her hand, letting her know he was okay. Cat held on and helped Bert to stand, passing him a cup of water. “We brought you here to undergo their ceremony,” she said, gesturing to Dray and the Earth Mother. “You agreed to do it, to see what you could learn and become more like them.” “Well, that was stupid,” Bert said as he rotated his arms around, loosening the stiff muscles. Cat laughed. “That’s what I was thinking, but it was your decision.” “Letting me decide was the dumbest part,” he replied. This earned another laugh from Cat, who pulled him in for a hug. “Believe me, I’ve learned. Do you feel fine otherwise?”
“I don’t think that’s true, by the way,” Harriet said quickly. “Sounds like the type of thing the rebellion would make up to make Rupert seem larger than life. It doesn’t matter though, he’s the real deal. I’ll follow his lead and trust the choice if he does.” ​Max had been listening to the two carefully, but his mind had been working on something else at the same time: a plan of his own. “98, Harriet...I think. Yeah, I think I have a plan of my own.” ​The two looked at each other quickly and met eyes. Harriet broke first and shrugged her shoulders. “Of course you do!” ​98 put her hand on his shoulder. “Listen, Max. You’re sixteen and you’ve been through a lot. I know you’ve been important to the cause and you’ve done your share too, but...I mean. The rest of them have been doing more than their share, some of them for centuries. I love your confidence, kiddo. But, they’re not gonna listen to a last minute plan from you. They’re risking too much already.” ​Max smiled at this. “That’s the thing, though. It won’t be them I need to convince. I’ll need Sophia, you two and one more person. That’s it. The rest of them can do whichever plan they choose and mine—ours—won’t be affected.” ​The two looked at each other again, their looks clearly confused. ​“I’m willing to listen, but no promises,” Harriet said finally. ​As 98 nodded her agreement, Max laid out his plan.
12: Books Bert took the strange pack-and-wings up the stairs to the room that had all the dragon items in it. Before placing it on a shelf with other items—a few large fangs, scales and talons—he placed it on an empty table in the center of the room. For some reason, he felt the need to repair the device, so he sat down and tried to piece together exactly how it worked. Ever since he had been a boy, Bert had loved to take things apart and put them together again. He had once been put on first-light mop duty at the abbey, which was a bad punishment. No one wanted to wake first and be alone in the dark cleaning up the worst mess. He had earned the duty after he ruined the mighty pipes that produced the music for prayers. He had told them he could put it back together again, but they were too furious to let him try. Luckily, the man they called in to do the job had allowed Bert to assist him. The memory of placing the series of differently sized pipes together to rebuild the system still made him smile. There was a quiet joy in completing a task well. He collected spare rope and thread and the strange, tiny metal tongs Eldritch called pliers. These, in combination with a small hammer, allowed him to bend and shape the copper of the pack. He was also able to fix up the thin metal wiring of the wings.
​1: Puzzle Pieces ​Bert had awoken briefly after his ceremony, but he was in no state to talk. Besides muttering, I know how to bring about peace, he had been unable to share what else he had seen while under the influence of the solhara. He had a fever and was in and out of consciousness. ​The Earth Mother was tending to Bert herself, and Catrin would not leave his side. Mira had taken off to collect Nock to see if he would be able to help Bert somehow. ​"Never?" Cat asked for the hundredth time. ​The Earth Mother shook her head. "Never, as I've told you, child." ​Dray placed his hands on Cat's shoulders. The gesture said, be easy. "I've never heard of such a thing, Catrin," he said. "Always it's the same. We wake, tired, but full of a new sense of self. The things we see are private, but always of the same sort. Potential futures for ourselves, jobs we could do or the man or woman we will become to do our part for the Wyrm People and the wyrms themselves. Besides feeling like you have missed a night of sleep, I have never seen someone with an illness or fever like this before." He raised a hand to stop her interrupting him. "And, neither has the Earth Mother. The two of us have seen a lot in our days. Surely we would know if this was a natural occurrence." He looked to Bert, lying still on the large stone. ​Cat let out a sigh. "Then, why?" ​Dray shrugged and didn't answer for a moment. "Look to Smee'Fa'Ya," he said quietly. ​Yellow was lazing, his large head resting on the longest stone in the circle. It was the only one fully off the ground, suspended between two huge stones balancing it. His eyes were just barely open, resting while he seemed to listen in to what was happening. ​Cat shook her head while she wiped Bert's head with the bottom of her shirt. "What about him?"
17 ​Fins ​It was the second last day at LunaOne, and Parker was cruising the lobby looking for something to do. Kate bounced around the corner with her swimsuit on. ​“Yo! Varia, hit up the pool with me!” she told him. ​“Uh, okay I guess,” he replied, trying not to make his gaze too obvious. “No Ibrahim?” ​“Not this time,” she answered. “He wanted to check out the drilling machine they have here that makes the tunnels. He’s obsessed with the way it sends the material out the other end to keep working quickly. We’ve already seen it four times.” ​“Oh, that sounds kind of boring,” Parker lied as he added, check out drill to his calendar on his tablet. “Yeah, let’s hit up the pool. DJ and I figured out how to do a dolphin kick out of the bottom. You can go like two metres in the air. It’s wild! I’ll grab my suit and meet you there?” ​“Sure thing, see you in a bit,” she answered, smiling. ​Parker took off back to his room to grab his suit. He was excited to spend some time with Kate without Ibrahim for once. He had worked hard at being a good person about accepting their relationship, and felt like he achieved it, but he wasn’t pretending there wasn’t something there with Kate for him. In any case, it would be cool just to spend some time with her like they used to.
11: Art Appreciation ​Bert walked quietly with Sana as the guards carried her father through the castle before them. Bert had tried to talk a few times, but had been hushed quickly. Instead, he focused on remembering the path they took so he could run if needed. He was keeping a list of the number of steps, the number of stairs up or down, the color of the carpets and wall hangings, the number of flags and their colors, and the subject matter of the paintings. After a while of trying to keep track of that, he quickly gave up and just looked around. The hallways here were double the height of those in Wyrmgate. The gray stone he saw on the outside was either painted a much lighter color in here or it was a different stone lining the interior. The high roofs were rarely flat like those in Wyrmgate; rather they were domed at times, or angled. Sometimes they walked hallways with large windows and expansive views of the river, city or surrounding mountains. Others were clearly deep in the castle, but were still lavishly decorated. Bert had been keeping an eye out for servants or the hidden routes they surely traveled, but had seen nothing of the sort. He wondered if there was someone walking ahead of the king clearing the way, or if the servants here had a strange sense to stay out of his way. Bert remembered traveling the secret ways of Wyrmgate with Cat, and also remembered her stopping to talk with them once she had regained power. She knew their names, their roles, their families and she took time for each when she had it. Here, Bert just saw the riches of the High King and the backs of the guards carrying him on his chair. ​As they turned a corner, something caught Bert's eye on the wall. "Your majesty! Apologies, but the art here is incredible! Can I examine this statue for a moment?" ​"No," came the curt reply. ​Bert squeezed Sana's hand. ​"Just a moment father," she said quickly. "He was invited after all. Why not show him just a little of the majesty of the rule…
24: Stuck ​Bert pushed through the bushes, and was forced to see something he had been holding out hope he never would. A statue of a dragon head, in a long line of broken vegetation that ran as far as the eye could see. ​He had gone in a circle. ​All the walking, the climbing, the swimming had led him back to the place he had started. Worse, even knowing he was on the line, he didn’t know how far he was from the tribute point or Wyrmgate. He had ended up where he started, but might be days from anywhere he recognized. ​He’d made no progress, and was lost. ​Broken, he collapsed on the ground and began to cry. Partially from desperation, but mostly from embarrassment at having failed Eldritch and himself. He had left feeling like a man, ready to explore on his own, do something important to help the people he cared about. He’d come back and he would have made a name for himself with the people who mattered to him. He was a guy you could count on. Instead, he had accomplished nothing and would return with less. ​Taking a breath to stop his sniveling, he heard a cry come from the woods on the dragon side of the line. It was like nothing he had heard before. It sounded something like a chipmunk or squirrel’s chirps, but like a thousand of them crying out at once. It was somehow both ferocious and pitiful. ​Standing, Bert gathered his things and moved as quietly as possible through the brush towards the sound. He didn’t want whatever it was to spot him before he had a chance to see what was happening.
40: Who Says You Can't Go Home? Thunk. The Crow fell to the ground, a dagger sticking out of his neck. Mira pulled it free and slid beside Bert against the tree trunk. “Friends of yours, I presume?” she asked quietly. “Something like that,” Bert replied, eyes locked on the man’s neck. Crimson bubbled slowly from the wound, seeming to slow down as time passed. He didn’t look much older than Bert. Much of his face was covered by a helmet, but Bert was able to make out traces of a beard. The face was dirty, but the eyes were clear. And open. It was unnerving to see a dead man still looking at the sky. Bert didn’t know a thing about the man, of course, but he wondered if he even wanted to be here. Had he volunteered? A zealous man ready to do anything—including die, obviously—for Garrick Crowe’s benefit? Or some street rat plucked into service and ordered to cross the border with a scouting mission? Bert would never know. The man would never speak again. Never laugh with friends over food again. Never love again. “Hey,” Mira said, snapping her fingers in front of Bert’s face. “It was him or us. We move. Everything lives and everything dies. We live.” She got up and ran forward, keeping low and moving between large trunks. Bert took a breath, stood and followed.
Bert realized that he was letting his imagination get the better of him, and this was just one page of thousands in the wizard’s extensive library. While any sort of written page was valuable, the tower was filled with them. Bert arrived at the top of the tower and was surprised to see Catrin there talking with Eldritch. He didn’t want to interrupt, so he walked in quietly and placed the page on a side table to continue drying. When he got close enough to hear, his thoughts of the page vanished almost immediately. Their conversation was much more interesting than toenail growth. They were talking about a tournament. There would be a grand melee, jousting, archery and more. Best of all, it was coming to Wyrmgate, in only six suns!
“At the bottom of it is a door. It looks like just more bricks, but one of them comes loose and you can pull a portion of the wall open. Inside you will see a lever. It will be set right in the middle. I need you to pull it down and listen for three clicks.” Bert stared at her wondering what exactly she was talking about, but got nothing from her. He sighed and replied, “down the ladder, through the invisible door, pull the lever down and listen for three clicks.” He waited for her nod. “And I am doing this in order to...” “Oh, go and do it, boy!” Bert sighed again. “You and Eldritch could be brother and sister, you know.” Fisca stuck her tongue out at this. “I should hope not. That would ask questions I wouldn’t want answers to. Get moving.” Bert wondered what that reply meant, but started moving along the wooden planks that made up the walkways connecting the parts of the clock’s workings. As promised, he found the loose brick and was able to pull open a door. Crouching to enter the space, he realized the small room he was in connected to the cisterns that held the water. Fisca had told him the water flowing from the large to small cistern was what kept the clock ticking at a constant speed. He sat still for a moment, trying to block the sound of the many gears spinning against one another. Placing his hand against the inner wall, he could both hear and feel the water rushing through the space between cisterns. “Aha!” he said to no one. He understood now. The lever would change the flow of water, which would change the speed the clock ticked. But to what purpose? Keeping one hand on the gap to feel the flow, he used his other to pull the lever down. He heard and felt the three clicks as he did so, and was able to feel the flow slow as a result. Interesting.
Reading The Apollo Murders by Chris Hadfield at the park named after him
44: Birds of a Different Feather Bert was shocked and didn't know what to say. He had to give it to Cat, she didn't seem phased at all. Bert knew her well enough now to know she must be seething inside, but outside she was the calm princess he had known from before. "Thronewarden, a pleasure to see you," she said, her entire demeanor changing in the blink of an eye. In a heartbeat, her hood was off, her hands resting over her waist, her spine perfectly straight, chin and nose in the air. Even her voice changed—higher, quicker. "Indeed," Crowe replied sullenly. "Spending time with the thief-boy and some vagabonds, I see." The question of why wasn't asked, but it was clearly there. Cat didn't respond. She just stood there, unmoving. It was clear the question was simply too rude for her to address. "Nothing to say, Princess?," Crowe spat. "What is it you wish me to say?" she asked simply.
Parker was able to place the accent now, but it sounded more Scandinavian than Russian. He wondered if perhaps Alexander had spent time outside of Russia. No matter now. Wherever he was from, Alexander looked like he had been grown in a lab rather than born from a pair of human beings. The guy could be used to sell Russian vodka or something. If his brain matched the work they had seen so far, he would make for one hell of a formidable human. "Your work was very sophisticated, Alexander. We took a look at a bit of it. You should be very proud of what you accomplished. Your victory was well earned," Kate recovered, smiling. The other three added their agreement and took their turns shaking Alexander's hand. Alexander seemed delighted with them. At first Parker had felt like he did when he started high school—like the big Russian was almost toying with him. A god sent from above just putting in his time with a measly human before returning to Olympus to drink ambrosia and rule the universe. After a little time, he recognized the feeling better. Alexander was just as impressed with them as they were with him. He seemed like someone who had finally met his people. "I am very excited to be taking this trip up to the moon. I've always wanted to travel in space and I did everything I could to make sure my group and I would have this opportunity," Alexander added. "To meet the lot of you makes my heart sing! I can't wait to spend this time with you, picking your brain on your designs. And the coding!" He put his hands over his heart and bent his head back, as if his body was being flooded with ecstasy, "simply...divine! In Russian, I am Alexander Eugeune. Please. Here, and in space, I want to be Alex. Oh, and on the moon as well!"
2: Dreams and Dragon Farts ​Memory One. The room is hot. Too hot for the season. So many faces gathered around the table. Some I know. You are there, Cat! Sana, Fisca, Eldritch, Dray. Others. Papers. Maps. Stamps. Everyone is talking at the same time. I can't make out anything. It's like everyone is speaking the same language, but it's one I don't know. The room is hazy. No, my memory of it is. I'm sorry. I can't pull out any more right now. — Bertram to Catrin, Cadenport ​Bert spoke the words and Cat wrote them down as quickly as she could. As far as he knew, he had awoken after a full night of peaceful sleep in a room reserved for Queen Catrin Wyrmblessed in the most expensive part of Cadenport. He sat a moment, Cat being completely still and quiet, and tried to dig out more. He closed his eyes, calmed his breath, tried lying back down. Nothing. He couldn't even see what he had seen again, let alone get more. "That's it, I guess," he said finally. Cat actually jumped up and did a spin. "This is fantastic!" "But...how?" "It's something, which is more than we had yesterday," she said, plopping down next to him. Her smile was large and her green eyes had that glint they had when she was excited.
52: Fallout Rupert managed to get the door to open enough that he could slip through. Zhang followed, grinning ear-to-ear and tossed Max a thumbs up. It was clear they had been watching the video as Argo broadcast it. Max and the others inside the Pilot’s chamber had heard it playing on screens outside the door as the rebels worked to get in. Max looked at Rupert carefully as he walked in, flanked by two rebels who had acquired guns at some point. The man had always struck Max as fatherly and kind, but he looked a little like a warlord as he carefully looked around the room—looking for threats or opportunities—Max wasn’t sure. He walked up to Max slowly and then smiled. Suddenly Max saw the Rupert from Sherwood. This was a man who could rebuilt the ship. Max would trust him with that role. Rupert raised his hand, and Max took it, shaking gladly. “Not the plan we agreed on, Max,” Rupert began, “but it seems to be working. We are getting reports of workers and soldiers making their way to the core. It seems the two of you were very convincing. Oh, it’s not perfect. There are groups holding out and fighting, but it’s diminishing by the minute.”
Her handmaiden rushed out quickly and put her finger over her lips. "Sir Dragontongue! The lady is meeting with Mistress Wise, Lady Grafton, the Council of Cadenport and others. You must not shout at her, and you must address her as your majesty in public. You know this!" Bert moved to walk past the diminutive girl, but she moved sideways like a crab, blocking him. He sighed. "I am to leave right now and I don't know when I will return. Can she be disturbed for even a moment?" "She cannot," the handmaiden said sternly. "You may write her a letter on this paper and I will ensure of its delivery at the soonest possible moment." She grinned. "That is, if you know your letters, Sir Dragontongue?" She held a pink piece of paper gingerly from her hand. Bert sighed and shrugged. He wasn't going to push his way past a handmaiden. Perhaps he could fly Yellow back for a proper goodbye in a few days. "I am a learned man, I'll have you know," he said, taking the paper. He wrote a hasty message with what he knew of his mission so far, and promised to return as soon as possible. He promised to be careful and apologized for leaving without a word. He wished her well in her endeavors and realized that sounded stupid, so scratched it out and just wrote, I love you, always, instead. He folded it and gave it to the girl. "I need my armor from the interior room, if you will." The girl took the letter and it vanished into her skirts somewhere. She took off quickly and returned the armor in three trips.
"Exactly," Dray agreed. "As I say, perhaps some memories will return in time. Until then, we must continue our quest for peace. This is just a small stop on our journey. Whatever happens, you are still a wyrmrider, a tested fighter and a good friend, Bertram. I am proud of you, and I am proud you tried this for us. Whatever the result. Your bravery astounds me." He offered Bert his hand. Bert took it gladly. "I am lucky to have you in my life, Dray." He stood. "If you two are done being mushy," Cat interrupted, "let's return to Mira and the others. She will be glad to see you well, Bert. And happy to have the Earth Mother safe again, no doubt." The two men nodded and made their way down to the waiting wagon.
44: Birds of a Different Feather ​Bert was shocked and didn’t know what to say. He had to give it to Cat, she didn’t seem phased at all. Bert knew her well enough now to know she must be seething inside, but outside she was the calm princess he had known from before. ​“Thronewarden, a pleasure to see you,” she said, her entire demeanor changing in the blink of an eye. In a heartbeat, her hood was off, her hands resting over her waist, her spine perfectly straight, chin and nose in the air. Even her voice changed—higher, quicker. ​“Indeed,” Crowe replied sullenly. “Spending time with the thief-boy and some vagabonds, I see.” The question of why wasn’t asked, but it was clearly there. ​Cat didn’t respond. She just stood there, unmoving. It was clear the question was simply too rude for her to address. ​“Nothing to say, Princess?,” Crowe spat. ​“What is it you wish me to say?” she asked simply.
“Our people have done this for generations. Perhaps that is the explanation. Your body handled the solhara differently than our people do.” “But, why?” Cat asked quickly. “Tell me, Catrin. Is your father tall? Does he have straight, white teeth? Is he a man who can piece things together quickly or does he need many explanations before he can understand a topic?” “You’ve spent enough time with him to know the answers,” she replied. “I see his daughter before me. A woman of beauty and intelligence. She makes better decisions than him, we all say thanks to that.” He smiled. “I get it,” Bert said finally. “Just as Cat shares things with her father, we all share things with our parents and ancestors. Your people, Dray, have spent generations getting used to the solhara and how it affects your mind and body. I am almost certainly the first of my family to experience it.”
“My lady,” Elayne said quietly. She stood. “Anything you need is yours, Catherine Cooper. All you need to do is ask and the Red Turkey will provide!” She shouted it loud enough to earn a turn and nod from several of the women and girls working in the tavern. “Enjoy your meal.” With that she walked away. ​“Not a word until we are alone in our rooms,” Cat whispered to Bert. ​He nodded his understanding and took a bite of the stew. It tasted of cod, leeks and hints of garlic. There was another flavor Bert couldn’t name, but the entire thing was unbelievably delicious. “By the saints...” he said aloud. ​Cat smiled and took a spoonful herself. “It’s the truffle that really gives it that extra something.” ​“Ah, of course,” Bert agreed quickly. He ate happily, wondering what exactly a truffle was.
Elric smiled at Bert knowingly. "Good luck with that, Bert." ​Bert sighed. "Look at us. We are fighting each other and doing more damage than The Capital can. We need to find peace with one another if we hope to bring it to the world." ​"Well said, lad," Dray added. "There's more to it. We've learned that Fox not only destroyed some of our cache, but also works to attack our supply lines, cutting off food we had coming in from all over. Put simply, our army and Cadenport will starve if we cannot either stop this Fox or find new sources of food. Soon." ​Bert had noticed meals getting tighter, but figured that was just due to the army that continued to swell as more and more communities joined their cause. In his mind, that settled it. He and Dray would chase down this Fox and put an end to his destruction. He would have to convince Cat of the right of it. He knew her fire came from the heart and he loved her for it, but she was as intelligent as she was fiery, and she would see the logic of it given time. ​Mira sighed. "I know I have been...off, but this is still the right decision, Bert. Thank you." ​An open Mira was a rare thing, even at the best of times. Bert knew not to push her and just nodded. He'd settle things with Cat and then organize their force with Dray. It was time for him to help.
Walking into the room, he saw an exact copy of the room he had woken up in on that first day. Sterile, lifeless, full of metal and glass. A single pod sat in the center of the room, a middle-aged woman’s face looking out. She was still hibernating, awaiting her turn to join them. Would she be a worker like Max, a life given to dangerous, boring, repetitive jobs? Or would she be destined to join Sophia and the others in the central spine of the Ark? ​“The doctor’s replacement,” Sophia said suddenly, resting her entire body on the pod. She was tired: Max could see it in her eyes and the way she collapsed on the pod. ​Max knew he was at least partially to blame. “Listen, I’m sorry,” he started, but was interrupted as she grabbed his arm. Hard. Right where he had been cut. “Hey, careful!” ​“I had to check,” she sighed. “I almost screamed, Max. The soldier’s wouldn’t have listened, you know? I know you think I’m some big, bad boss out there, but in many ways, I’m more stuck than you are. My dad gives me jobs because he knows he can trust me, but those soldier’s are his. They’d die for him. No matter what I feel for you, they would have pulled you down and treated you like any other...” she sighed again, the distaste in the next word clear, “rebel.” She undid her bun and loosened up her shirt and sleeves. It was clear to Max that she was at a breaking point. “What in the name of the Creator were you even doing there? Why would you risk everything like that?”
Again Bert wished for a sharper mind than his. He had no idea what to do with this information or how to respond. “I still don’t understand.” ​“The dragons, Bert,” Sana said. “We need them.” ​“Aye, lad,” Kaemon said. “We need them on our side. Not just sitting up there breathing fire and eating boars. We need them fighting with us to keep our people safe.” ​It was finally starting to click for Bert, albeit slowly. “So, you broke the peace to have the dragons come south with the Wyrm People.” ​“Yes,” the king agreed.
The forests were especially foggy today. He assumed a temperature change had caused the wetness to enter the air. The field area had a light wind blowing the fog, so it was clearer, but the fog in the woods was dense, sitting over the trees, unmoving. ​Roads traveled in every direction to and from the city, but they thinned out the farther away they got. No matter how carefully Bert scanned those forests, he couldn’t see a thing. ​Nothing to do but wait, Bert talked to Yellow, speaking the plan out loud. He was sure it was more to calm his nerves than remind Yellow, but his friend seemed to enjoy listening. Yellow was in his full set of armor, as was Bert. Sitting on the top of the tower, he assumed the dragon was not tiring in the least. ​Bert could make out the archers manning the walls. Other Wyrm People and allies were running along the inside of the walls with bundles of arrows. The archers themselves sat quietly, hiding their bodies from view. He saw Sue talking to citizens, urging them to hide in their homes or public buildings. More than a few were ignoring her, taking up bows and joining the men and women on the wall, earning handshakes from the defenders. ​Finally, The Capital army and city guard began to move. As hoped for, there was no organization to their march. Word seemed to just sort of move down the lines, and entire divisions began to casually make their way towards Cadenport.
He almost stumbled to his knees as a dragon roared from the forest behind him. All eyes turned with Bert's and he saw an enormous blue head rise from a set of trees. Stree'Sta'Ba was making his presence known. The dragon ducked his head back into cover as several arrows were fired into the area. The heavier equipment started to turn and roll towards where the dragon had roared. ​Continuing his run atop the walkway on the wall, Bert smiled as he saw a trebuchet fire a rock about a quarter of the distance it should have, the rock landing uselessly in the empty space between the wall
13: The Tourney ​The field outside Wyrmgate's walls looked like a completely different place. Usually this was a place where animals grazed in the sun, or where materials were laid out when they were brought into town for sorting and purchase. Today was a feast for the eyes. Colored flags and banners hung from every surface Bert could see. Large wooden stands had been erected around the field, and groups of people sat and cheered on contestants, or chatted while they ate and drank. While Bert couldn't make out any of the events from where he was, walking down the path towards the field, he could see jugglers and acrobats entertaining the crowds. The smell of a hundred types of food and drink drifted through the air and hawkers shouted the goods and refreshments they offered. The tournament was officially to celebrate the Old King's life, but everyone knew the real point was to cement the rule of Garrick Crowe. Every major event that Bert could remember attending here in the past had featured a large dragon made of thinly cut willow and thin linen that blew in the wind over the field. Eldritch filled it with some sort of light air that allowed it to float, even without wind. Today, no one would miss the second flying creature—a crow made of the same material.
“Cat, let me explain!” Bert intoned, walking quickly into Cat’s expensive rooms. The handmaiden moved much quicker this time, practically bumping into Bert as she moved to escape the private discussion. ​Cat did not reply. She was sitting on a padded bench and patted the empty space beside her. ​Bert gulped. There’s had been a relationship of openness and honesty, but everyone had their arguments. Bert knew that a silent rage was a thousand times worse than shouting. He sat anyways, knowing he could never leave without fixing this first. “Cat, I didn’t know anything before they said it. I wasn’t planning anything behind your back—I never would! It just came up and it all fit together in my head. I shouldn’t have agreed to anything before talking to you in private. That was stupid of me, and wasn’t fair to you. I see that now.” ​She said nothing, but kept her eyes locked on his. ​It was more than Bert could bear and he looked down at his twiddling fingers. “I am new to this. I know how I feel about you and I am trying my best. I promise. I won’t use my life as an excuse for not knowing better, but I didn’t exactly have a lot of relationships to learn from.” He knocked himself on the head. “I just said I wouldn’t use an excuse and then did it.” He looked at her again and got back the same stare. “Oh, Cat, say something! It’s killing me. I would say I would stay, but that’s not right either. I said I would go, and it’s the right thing to do to meet our goals. The goals we’ve set together. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met—the strongest person! You don’t want some man-child hanging off your every word and doing your bidding. I know enough about you to know that! I need to be my own man as well.” He knew he was all over the place. “By the saints, woman! Save me from my mouth! I beg it of you!”
“I love this version of you!” She shouted it, seeming not to care that there were others in the tent. There were tears building up. “I do not want you to change!” ​Dray came and sat beside them. “Worry not. He will be the same, only more like himself. It is hard to explain. We have all been through the ceremony. All will be well.” ​Cat finally gave in to tears. ​Everyone gave her time and space. ​Bert continued to hold her hand, but let her cry. He knew she would understand. He realized he’d been thinking about this in the back of his mind for many moons. It was a decision he had already made. ​Finally, Cat dried her eyes with the sleeve of her tunic. She hugged Bert tight and simply nodded at him. She didn’t seem capable of words at the moment. ​“Dray, will you guide me? I have no father, but I would be the luckiest man in the world to have you in his place,” Bert said, still holding Cat tight. ​“Of course I will, son,” Dray replied. “I am honored you would ask.” ​“There is no other I would have,” Bert replied honestly. ​The man nodded and seemed to have tears of his own forming. “I will guide him well, Catrin.” ​She nodded in turn. “You better.” ​“There is no ring here,” the Earth Mother said quietly. ​Sue Grafton spoke for the first time. “There is one. A ring of stones?” ​They all looked at her. “Tell us,” Mira said simply. ​“About half a day’s ride from my home,” Sue said. “It’s old and many of the stones have fallen and been rounded by years of wind and rain, but it’s there.” ​“It will do,” the Earth Mother. She sighed and seemed to slump even further.
1: Wake Up ​He was tired of looking at the metal grate, but was too weak to pull his body away from it. The room was hot—too hot—and he thought he might throw up one more time. His face, still covered in the thick, wet goo, was starting to dry. ​He must have barfed at least ten times, but no, he was done now. Rather than try to get up again, he rolled over on his back and looked around. Besides the metal grate and depression now holding whatever liquid had been inside him, the room was entirely white. Sterile. A medical place of some sort. Maybe he had undergone surgery and no one knew he was awake. ​He tried again to shout or ask for help, but nothing came out. His throat and face muscles were as weak as the rest of him. Lying down felt good—well, better than watching a waterfall of goo flow from his mouth. He hurt all over, but his abdomen and stomach muscles hurt most of all. He wasn't sick, whatever was coming out of him was something else—something to do with him waking up here. ​He groaned as he forced his feeble arms to raise his hands above his body to appear in front of his eyes. A laugh escaped his mouth, hurting his throat. "Waffles," he croaked. His hands looked like waffles—the grate had dug into his soaked skin, creating a pattern. ​Wherever he was, the room seemed to know what it was doing much better than he did. The lights had been dim when he first rolled out of the container, or bed—whatever it was. At first he thought it had been his eyes adjusting, but he knew now that the lights were getting brighter. There was no one to help him, but the room was doing its part. He heard the hum of a motor as soapy water suddenly sprayed from the walls, washing the goo-puke off the floor and down a drain through the grate. His mouth got some soapy splash-back, but it tasted better than whatever had been in there before, so he didn't complain. ​"Max, get up," something said to him.
Scared didn't cover how he felt now. His sight went black and he felt like he wasn't breathing. He probably wasn't. The idea of splashing to death in a pile of goo on the stone at the bottom suddenly felt like the best outcome: at least this would be over with. He dared to open his eyes, feeling at least he should see his last sight and take a final breath when the air was suddenly knocked from his body. "Oof," was the best he could manage as he landed on his chest on something. "Hang on, Bert!" a voice shouted. An arm grabbed him by his belt and held on tightly.
4: Court ​“Next!” a soldier in Crow livery shouted from the door to the Royal Hall. ​Bert stood quietly as a couple came out sobbing. The woman helped the man walk and Bert was disgusted to see a nasty red welt on the man’s forehead. It looked like a brand you would give a cow, burning a design in it to mark it as belonging to your farm. As they got closer, Bert realized the welt was a brand. ​It was a crow. ​The soldier pushed Bert into the hall and directed him to a small pillow on the floor. Bert realized he was expected to bow to Crowe, even though he wasn’t royalty. He looked up to see Crowe sitting on a throne. The man was uncommonly short. Even though he was sitting, it was obvious. He had dark hair and eyes, and wore a long black scarf around his neck. His face had scars from long-ago battles, but he was otherwise handsome and healthy. Bert realized Crowe didn’t sit on the throne belonging to the king, to be fair. Rather, he sat on one that was slightly smaller, but much gaudier than the true throne, covered in gems and precious stones. It was offensive to see this man disrespecting the old king so soon after his death. ​Still, Bert had decided to fess up and beg for mercy. Bowing made him feel like a traitor, but he would do what he had to. ​So, he bowed. Then he rested his knees on the pillow, sitting before this man like he was a god. ​“Thank you for seeing me…” Bert started before he was cut off. ​“Silence,” Crowe said. He didn’t shout it or sneer at Bert, he just said it quietly, expecting immediate compliance. “It says here you’re a thief.” He said the words as he read them from parchment.
“What’s that all about? Darian Storme is a good man, and I’m sure he’d do the right thing. Besides, you’re betrothed. Of course he’d help, you’re going to marry him!” “We’ll see about that,” she said under her breath. Bert was shocked at this. He had always thought that Catrin and Darian were the perfect couple. A mixture of beauty and strength like you would see in an adventure story! “What are you talking about? You’re always so happy when you’re with him!” Catrin crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s my job, Bert.” She sighed and was clearly considering what she was going to say next. “This talk is between us and doesn’t leave dragon territory. Deal?” Bert was taken aback. He wanted to know more, of course, but wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with this information. There was no question they had become friends, but surely she had handmaidens and other royals to talk with. Why trust him with this information? It didn’t matter, friends supported each other, so he would do just that. “Of course, Cat. It will stay between us. You can trust me. You saved my life! I can keep a secret in exchange. That’s a cheap price to pay.” She nodded. “Bert, think of when you’ve seen Darian and me together.” “Well, all the different tournaments, of course. Training the sword with him, you watching on. At market days and other important events in town over the years.” “And, what do all those events have in common?” Bert thought about that. In his minds eye, he saw streaming banners, trumpeters, children laughing, stands full of townspeople. Of course. “They were always in public.” Cat pointed at him like a teacher acknowledging a favorite student. “Exactly. Our relationship was arranged, as is the case with all royalty. The High King ultimately approves of any such marriages, but Darian’s parents and my father set it all up initially. A trade deal. They need boats, we have trees. They use those boats to get us stuff when we need it. They had a son, I’m a daughter. It’s not …
Bert nodded, twisting his neck side to side as if he could drain the fog in his mind through his ears like water after a deep dive. “I understand, Mother.” Dray placed a hand on his shoulder. “Relax, Bertram. You have done much for us already. None doubt where your loyalty lies.” Cat frowned slightly at this. Dray chuckled. “And to you as well, Queen Catrin.” He gave a practiced bow. “He will always straddle two worlds. We know that. We just hope he understands ours even better now. Or perhaps will in time.” “We all serve peace,” Cat said quickly, earning nods all around. “So,” Bert said, breaking a tense quiet, “why don’t I remember anything?” Cat answered this. “You were out for a while, then came to and said, I know how to bring about peace.” She frowned slightly. “You sounded older, like it was something you had learned through practice and were sure of. It sounded like a craftsman saying, I know how to make a barrel, I’ve been doing it my whole life! It was...strange, but powerful.” Bert shrugged. “Sounds pretty amazing, actually. Wish I could remember it.” Dray shook his head, but smiled slightly. “Anything you can offer might help us understand all this.”
4: The Odyssey Ark II ​After spending his entire life—or at least this current one—in the medical wing, stepping into the main part of the ship was so overwhelming that it brought Max to his knees. Leaving behind the dull, lifeless hallway, the breathtaking view before him left him utterly awestruck. The main portion of the ship was an enormous open space. Along many of the walls were thousands upon thousands of the pods like the one he had been in minutes ago. Small robots, similar to the one he now carried, floated around checking pods, adjusting things he couldn't make out. The huge swaths of pods were stacked beside each other in rows of ten or so, then broken up with enormous areas of glass and structural beams, allowing for an incredible view of space. Max realized that until now, the idea that he was in space was just something he had been told. He hadn't had any reason to distrust the girl, but there hadn't been any windows or anything to prove it to him. The view here left absolutely no doubt. The first thing he noticed was the absolutely oppressive blackness of it all. It was so dark, he thought he needed a new word for it. Despite the darkness, it was beautiful. The darkness was broken up by the light of distant stars of varying brightness. As he continued looking, he realized the ship was spinning slowly and the view changing. Looking through other windows, he saw smudges of light and color along with the darkness and pinpoints of light from stars. "Quite the view, isn't it?" the girl asked. "Help him up," she said to the doctor.
image shows the title of a chapter in the writing program scrivener called "Butts and the Art of Diplomacy"
27: Communication It had been a day of clear skies and easy travel. Now the sky was going through its daily cycle of color. Out here, with little noise and little smoke from fires, the colors were even brighter to Bert's eyes. They had started a fire and were preparing to eat before spending the night under the roots of a large tree that had fallen in the recent past. The large tangle of roots made for a great reflector of heat, allowing them to sit and enjoy the night well after dark. They had been able to clean up in a creek and hang much of their outer clothes from roots sticking out of the ball. Cat had seemed comfortable enough in her underclothes around Bert, so he had done the same. He figured it wasn't weird unless he made it so. If they were going to spend so much time together, best they were comfortable. And best they didn't smell like he had before the dip in the water. "It's all making sense now, after seeing you communicate with that dragon," Catrin said, breaking the silence. "How so?" Bert asked as he stretched a rabbit over sticks before placing it near the fire. "I remember being in The Capital with my father when I was younger," she began. "They have a whole wing of art featuring dragons there. Looking back, I remember seeing a man basically in the same position you were in before a large dragon. The dragon wasn't injured—it was just outside a city gate I think—but it looked like the one today. It was curled up, wings folded into its body and head down. I don't think the man had wings, but perhaps he did, or was using his arms instead." Bert considered this. "Do you think it showed them making peace?" Catrin shrugged as she started peeling some root vegetable she had pulled from the ground as they were walking earlier. "It was clear they weren't fighting. The old Lorekeeper there explained it as the dragon bending to the man's will, and I didn't think twice about it. Now, I wonder."
"For now, they are sent into our own lands to work off their debts to us. It's much better than what I've seen here in the south," she replied. "And certainly better than a dagger in the neck, arrows in your throat or being burned by wyrm fire." ​"We'd do what up there?" ​"Perhaps cut trees," she chuckled. "But actually do it, not just talk about it. Perhaps mine for metals. Perhaps make weapons for us. Perhaps prepare food, build homes or help our farmers. I cannot say for certain. It's not my role, to be frank." ​The man put down his hands slowly and moved them, showing her the dirty tents, rusty weapons on the ground and general state of their camp. "Serving The Fox has been worse than any work you have described, lady." He looked to his men and each nodded in turn. "If you offer your protection, we will tell you what we know. The life you offer is better than the one we are living. If you take us to the city and give us some food and drink, you shall have your answers." ​Mira considered a moment and finally nodded. "We'll take your horses. Leave the weapons and tents. You have a moment to collect anything important to you while we look around. You shall have your beggar's feast." She turned as several Wyrm People moved in to watch the men closely and make sure they didn't do anything unexpected. ​As they left the camp and entered the darkness of the forest once more, Bert almost tripped as he heard an incredible whoosh of sound as the dragons laid fire to what had been the camp. Whether Mira had wanted to send a message or simply cover her tracks, Bert wasn't sure. Whoever this Fox was would find nothing but destruction.
15 ​Luna One ​All the first timers looked a little funny as they adjusted to the 1/6th Earth gravity entering the hotel. They laughed at each other as they made their way down the tunnel. Parker noticed what looked like a heavy blast door embedded on either side of the tunnel. A smart idea in case of an emergency like a fire or depressurization on the ship. The tunnel was very utilitarian—concrete walls, tiny windows up high, industrial lighting. Compared to the luxury of the waiting room in Colorado or even the ship itself, this was a dump. All that changed when the group left the tunnel at the far end. Parker remembered reading about a tunnel in Egypt. They built a dark tunnel that you would walk through on your way to the pyramid. At the time, the pyramid was capped with gold to reflect the sun. The idea was to have the contrast between light and dark be so obvious that it showed you the power of the gods of the area. Parker wondered if that was the idea here or the tunnel was, you know, just a tunnel. In any case, the result was similar.
Jyor set the lift to manual mode. The lift would have no outside power, but he hoped the safety lock would help slow his descent enough that the on-board power would be enough. It would have to be. He released the safety lock and nearly jumped as the lift began creaking its way down the shaft. It was moving much faster than he would have liked, and it felt like his stomach was still at the top of the shaft. He considered trying to adjust the locking mechanism to slow the lift, but decided the speed was what he needed, so he held tightly and closed his eyes. ​Eventually, the lift reached the point it had reached before and Jyor held even more tightly as the lift struggled to hover on its own. Jyor opened his eyes to see that empty space once more. As before, the heat was nearly unbearable, but he knew he could tough it out again. The lift was floating down at a more reasonable rate now, so Jyor risked a look down. The shaft continued where it had before, more or less. He guided the lift towards the shaft, managing to reach it. He stopped everything and reset the emergency lock to the guide in the wall for the final descent. The lift jerked and bumped a bit as the friction from the drop had melted parts of the mechanism. It had not been designed for this use. Not seeing any options, Jyor restarted the lift and felt the familiar stomach-dropping feeling as he made his way deeper in the planet. ​“Jyor! They are on to you!” the voice of Tymo came through. “They’re on to me too. I see them now in the Ministry building. I have done all I can. Do you see the drones?” ​“Tymo, I do! Thank you!” he said back, fighting against the feeling his body was undergoing. ​“Then I’ve done all I can. I’m trusting you, Jyor. Don’t let me
Rather than explode at this pronouncement, the audience lowered their heads quietly. "The punishment—the only punishment—is spacing. The Creator was just and kind, as he allows even a criminal a return home to space he or she does not deserve." The audience looked up as four soldiers released the man and began carrying him toward the edge of the platform—each carrying an arm or leg. "We came from space, and to space we will return." With that, Sophia walked to the side of the stage and turned to watch the soldiers carry the man to a door Max hadn't noticed before right up against the hull of the ship. A fifth soldier opened the door, and Max realized suddenly what he was looking at. The door opened to a small room that simply contained another door. In that final door was a large window that looked out to nothingness. Space. The soldiers placed the man in the airlock and closed the internal door. Sophia walked over and pushed a button that turned both sets of doors entirely transparent. Everyone could see the man, now untied, as he scrambled in the small space, trying to rip at the doors and walls, but to no avail. There was nothing to grab at, the walls were flush to the doors. "Worker 999,998 has been selected to do the Creator's work today," Sophia said suddenly. Light applause greeted Max's surprise at what he saw happen next. Nat—98—the only other worker ever to speak to him, came on stage and approached the controls to the airlock. A part of Max's brain was pleased at finally understanding why they called her 98, but the greater part was trying to will her not to do what he knew she was about to. "The Creator is merciful," 98 said in a proud voice, much louder than Sophia had been, even without a microphone. "He condemns this man to the dark space, never to hurt us again." Calls of, "the Creator is merciful!" came from the audience and then silence.
They had agreed to meet in half an hour, but Parker got there early. As he walked in, he saw her. She was sitting with her back to the door he came in through, looking out at the ocean. His mind took him back to when they were on the ship to LunaOne. She looked just as beautiful, but more like herself, as if that made any sense. He didn’t know if the years apart were playing tricks on him, or the years had done her well. Likely both. He took an extra second to look, then slid in over the chair beside her from behind. “Ah, taking a move from my old playbook are ya?” she asked him, smiling. The memory of her jumping over the back of a chair or couch so many times at Boulder Tech came back to him. “Man, I forgot you used to do that,” he laughed. “This whole situation is surreal, Kate. You’re here to work on the code for the crawlers, right?” “Yeah,” she nodded. “Sounds like an interesting challenge. My company’s pissed you geniuses are taking so long, so they sent me.” He shook his head in a playful manner. He had missed this back and forth with her. They had slipped back into it like an old jacket, seamlessly. “You realize we’re sitting together. In a cafeteria. Talking about spider robots.” “Oh, it hadn’t escaped me!” she said smiling. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. To be here, working on something that really matters. To be working with you...” He nodded, unable to wipe the smile from his face. “This is a cool place. There’s a vibe here I haven’t felt since, well, since the four of us worked on that contest,” he told her. “You’re going to feel it, you’ll get swept up in it. It’s infectious.”
Gasping for air, Bert felt a hard set of scales below, and knew he had been saved by Yellow. Wind whipped by his ears, as he took a moment to orient himself. The back of the dragon smelled like a pile of fire ash and was as hard as the strongest oak table he had ever felt. His sight was filled with the yellow scales of the dragon, which was probably for the best. He didn't think he could handle looking down right now. Or up, for that matter. Or anywhere. ​"Sit up, It's not so bad once you get your legs around his neck," Cat said, still holding tightly to him. ​Bert had ridden horses before, but Yellow was a different animal altogether. He took a deep breath, his lungs finally allowing air to enter, and forced himself to draw his legs from under him. Cat helped him get his left leg around the neck of Yellow and he pulled his body up the rest of the way, purposely only looking at the scales and spikes on the dragon's neck rather than the ground below or the sky ahead. ​Finally, somewhat settled, he took a moment to relax. The sound of Yellow's wings flapping regularly was actually comforting. The motion under his body caused by the large muscles working the wings was sort of like sitting on a boat in the tide, up and down on a beat. ​"Thank you, Yellow," he said, patting the side of the dragon's neck like you would a horse. He wasn't sure how else to send his thanks. ​His friend seemed to understand, a low rumble coming from the neck. ​"And thank you, Cat," he shouted over the wind rushing past his face, risking a slight turn of his head. He couldn't see her fully, but she was clearly there. "I have to tell you something. I'm not great with heights." ​"I hadn't noticed," she replied with a slight chuckle.
She looked at him right in the eyes and breathed in before she spoke. “Max, listen. Don’t join up with them, okay? They try and get everyone, but what they want will never happen. He—the Pilot—he’ll find them eventually, and it won’t end well for them. Promise me,” she asked. ​Her face was so close, he could see her so clearly. Her eyes held an emotion he hadn’t seen before. She was clearly used to getting what she wanted, but she was pleading. He couldn’t think of any reason not to promise what she said. Why would he want to join up with some group that could ruin the whole ship and risk their safety? “Of course I won’t join them. I’ll serve my year and go back in hibernation.” ​She let out her breath. “Thank you, Max. I…” she trailed off as the soldiers had arrived at their level. They could hear their boots on the metal grating getting closer. She stood up quickly and adjusted her hair. With it, her face returned to its serious self. Her hands went behind her back and she stood there as the soldiers rounded the corner. ​“Miss Prost!” one of the soldiers shouted, rushing in beside her. ​As a second soldier helped the doctor to his feet, a third stood right in front of Max, both hands on his weapon. ​“Let him be, soldier,” Sophia said authoritatively. “He has done the ship a service today. Allot him double recreation time for the week and take him to his bunk. It’s day one, treat him accordingly.” ​“Absolutely ma’am!” the soldier shouted, saluting crisply.
Alex finally jumped in with a question. His face still screamed suspicion, but he had moved forward in his chair listening to the others. “The sun is spinning at 66,000 kilos a day. The Earth does about 1700 in the same time. How is this quilt of yours going to manage to keep the sun lined up with the places on Earth you’re targeting? That’s a lot of moving pieces to hit perfectly.” A few others at the table nodded along with Alex thinking the same thing. Parker prepared to answer, but Fen jumped in. “It’s just math. Look around Alex. I’ve seen your resume. You could probably do it on your own. We teach software to line it all up, look to the future, measure the changes and adapt. The pixels don’t line up with the Earth. They’re just a stop on the way for the energy. The light leaves the sun, travels to this umbrella, gets dimmed or let through on the way to the final destination here on Earth.” It was going better than Parker had hoped. He had been so excited last night, he had barely slept. It had been like old times with Kate, only better. They had stayed up for hours talking about it, looking for negatives, but they both agreed this idea was worth pursuing. “So, Fen. Do we add it to the list?” he asked. “Oh, absolutely Parker,” she replied immediately.
Chapter called "Dreams and Dragon Farts".
Edward smiled a wry smile at this. "Where do you come from, Bert?" "Wyrmgate," he answered quickly. "A nice town, good king, or at least it had been for many seasons," Edward said quietly. "We're from Deepdelve." Bert shook his head. "I haven't heard of it." Edward laughed. "Not a place anyone would ever visit. The town sits on the edge—literally—of an enormous pit. Each day, we went down on ropes or platforms attached to ropes and dug for ore. Load it up, dig some more. Do the same thing over and over until you go up the ropes yourself. Back in so much pain you can barely bend over to take off your boots. Face covered in so much dirt, you cough it up when you wake at night. Men look like they're graybeards by the time they've seen twenty winters." Bert sat quietly and nodded his head. "Most of us are always in a cage, Bert. It's just not always visible to the eye." He paused to let it sink in. "Here, I have seen some workers housed near the other end of camp. They have more freedom and a roof over their head. It's a better life than most live in Deepdelve. I can pick berries as long as they want while my wife and child-to-be can be safe. I'm sure you've heard there's war brewing. I'm not a brave man. I don't want to fight and die so some king so-and-so can rule over some other king. I'll be quite happy here picking berries while others pick up their comrades' broken bodies from some field to bury. Or maybe they'll see I am a good worker and send my family off to some other task. I can work a forest, build carts, work a forge. Safety and food for my family are all I'm interested in right now. Let the royals fight their fights and step over the bodies of peasants on their way to whatever it is they want."
She reddened further and smiled at him, saying nothing. “I am happy to see Queen Catrin Wyrmblessed finally in the place in the world she belongs,” Bert said. “Thank you,” she replied simply. “But I’m not interested in the queen right now.” “Is that so?” “It is. Cat,” he began. “Yes, Bert?” “Will you join me on a stroll through this lovely town we find ourselves in? I would like to show you the sights and maybe steal a kiss or two when no one is looking.” He looked down at his feet. “I would be honored,” she replied and put out her arm. He smiled as wide as he ever had and took her arm in his own. As he began to open the door, she stopped him and closed it once more. Even more surprisingly, she slid down a large piece of oak, locking it into brackets in the door. No one could enter. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to skip right to the kissing,” she said, pulling down his face to look right into her eyes. “You needn’t ask me twice,” he replied.
2: Bells “We’ll join you,” one of the original soldiers who had begun the chase with Bertram told the Crows. The two had apparently noticed that Bert had been caught finally and had come back to investigate. Bert noticed it was the soldier with the dragon who had spoken. The two Crows looked to the third who had arrived with the king’s man and Bert saw some sort of unspoken agreement between the three pass. The two shrugged and released their hold on Bert. “Alden Weaver, son,” the soldier whispered as he reached down to help Bert up. “I knew your father, way back. Stay close to me.” Bert heard more than a hint of sadness in Alden’s voice. Clearly, he understood what the ten bells meant as well as any other. As long as Bert could remember, the bells had followed a simple pattern. Five longer rings to begin the workday and five again at dusk to note the gates to town would be locked shortly. Three quick rings to mark prayer times, and three long to mark a market opening. The worst were the slow rings, as they marked a funeral. Six for a man and five for a woman. Three slow rings with a large gap meant a funeral for a child. The whole town went quiet and sullen when those were heard. Ten steady rings in a row, though...they had been warned that meant the death of the king. He had been sick for ages, but gossip heard all over had suggested his time was finally coming. “It’s a new era, Dragon,” the tallest Crow said to Alden, sneering. “Take this thief to a cell with your partner. We have other business to get to. Let them know it took two of us to catch him, while you failed.” Alden pulled both of Bert’s arms behind his back. “It’s better this way, lad. Don’t give them a reason to do anything worse,” he said. “Things will be changing quickly now.” Alden was speaking quietly enough that Bert thought only he had heard it.