Some time has passed since the Engine of "Abed" was started up, and then the one for Behemoth. The Svartifin have carefully monitored the progress, and used their songs to stabilize disruptive resonances that seem to inevitably form, especially when anything changes.
Envoy can feel the difference. In some ways, it might be likened to stepping out of the chaos of the Bazaar, through a door into a quiet little corner shop, to hear the chirruping of a Creen on a perch, and the gentle music of a flutist entertaining the customers. Something's been put back in order that was not before.
Envoy is free to experiment and explore, to sing to the crystals and listen to them sing back, and she gets a much better feel for the system of Behemoth. It appears that at this environment is at the heart of Behemoth, a solid mass at its center that by all rights should be crushed by sheer force of gravity, but is held stable by the ancient technology of the Sifras. (It does not take much imagination to suppose just what might happen to the Svartifin if the system were to shut down entirely.)
Around this core is a great mass of swirling and turbulent gases, and at some of the highest levels are a multitude of sky islands that wander the globe – where the Balfin dwell, and where they are compelled to go from island to island when they meet each other, lest they be carried over to the deathly cold of the night-side. The plant-life that grows on these sky islands must be especially hardy, for its seeds to survive the cold night, and then to be born anew upon returning to the sunlight some unknown time later.
Beams of energy at times radiate out from the central core, now and then intercepting the islands. When this happens, transfer of matter between core and island is possible … and the beams also go all the way out to the delicate network of crystal passages that form a vast and thin geodesic net around the planet. Envoy by now has managed to master the song necessary to travel along these "lesser gateways" – knowledge of little use to the Svartifin, since the idea of actually leaving their inner sanctum and their duties is anathema to them.
As Envoy has supposed, there are ways to get to the other worlds besides the large gateways that bridge them together, and even to reach the moons of the various planets – It's just that these other ways are not very easily accessible. The portals from the pocket realities only go to worlds where the Engines are working at a certain level of capacity – which would now be Sinai, Abaddon and Primus, though the latter would not be a very ideal destination for obvious reasons.
Behemoth, with the powering up on its Engine, has been added to this short list as well – but more importantly, with Behemoth back in the system, it may be possible to travel directly between the most active worlds. The trouble is, it looks as if the passage from Behemoth will be one-way. The Portals, after all, send matter from the pocket universes to the planets of the Primus System. They don't receive matter from them.
With some further effort, Envoy has been able to determine the workings of the crystal networks and the "songs" required to – near as she can tell – be able to make this jump, should she decide to do so. This method of travel most certainly lacks the "user interface" of the Gateways, and only someone with the use of the Lesser Interface could manage it. Envoy would qualify.
With one last detail to check on before she attempts the jump to Abaddon, Envoy seeks out Cascade amidst the various chambers.
Since none of the Svartifin is "on break" for very long by the point of view of those in the real world, it takes Envoy little trouble to find him in the engine chamber that she has come to assume is associated with Ashtoreth. Even though its engine is running low, the Svartifin still have to check on things now and then, lest the dormant engines shut down entirely. He hovers in place, heedless of several crystalline spheres rushing past him, singing to the crystals, and they respond in kind.
Taking up a hovering position nearby, Envoy waits for her friend to finish his check. In the meantime, she simply listens and enjoys the song.
If one were to try to translate the song into a spoken tongue – a task which in and of itself might be warranted impossible – it would be a song of balance, of patience to sleep through the night, in anticipation of awakening to a new day on the morn. Not all of the Svartifin's song seems entirely necessary for its utilitarian purpose of maintaining the crystal mechanisms – He takes some liberties where he has the room to, it seems, to make the song as much performance as anything else. But like all true songs, it comes to an end, and the engine continues in its static pattern for a time longer, free of any warbles or breaks in its pace that might warn of a shut-down. He turns slowly in place, then stops when he sees Envoy. "Greetings," he says, bowing his head slightly on his long fragile neck.
Smiling, Envoy says, "A wonderful performance, as always, Cascade. I wanted to let you know that I am about to leave – or try to, anyway – for Abed. There were a few more things I wanted to find out first though, if you have some time to spare?"
"I will do my best to answer your questions, Envoy. Your assistance here has been invaluable," Cascade says, placing his palms together.
"Well, now that we know the engines can be started up once more, I was wondering how many more Svartifin would be needed to maintain them all," Envoy says. "If I should manage to contact the Sifras, it would be good to know."
"Six per active engine is the ideal," Cascade says – a number that the present population falls far short of, since Envoy has only counted a total of fourteen of them.
"Oh my, I hadn't realized so many were needed," Envoy says, sounding concerned. There isn't even enough to deal with the newly reactivated engines! "To help with that, I was also wondering if you saved any of the worn-out engine components that had been replaced in the past, when you still had replacements available. Having actual examples to show Morpheus would be helpful in finding out if he can create new ones or not."
"We have no reliable means of disposing of such components," Cascade says, "so, yes, they are still here. I will show you, if you wish to see them."
"Yes, please!" Envoy says, smiling once more. Hopefully there'll be a few that she can carry.
Among their various strengths, it seems, organization isn't the best, when it comes to disposing of discarded parts of the engines. It isn't a single location that Cascade takes Envoy to, but rather several. Here and there, resting against the crystal walls and almost invisible except when one happens upon them, are components liberated from the Engines when necessary to replace the components. A great many of them are too large and unwieldy for Envoy to be able to do much of anything with, but there are still a great many little crystal do-dads that she could manage to carry. Fortunately, not all of them are unique – so she shouldn't feel obliged to take them all. "I hope you have found something that will be useful?" Cascade asks, as he catches up to her, while she's found her latest discovery hovering a few inches from the outer wall of the "Abed" chamber.
"Do you know what any of these are supposed to do?" Envoy asks the Svartifin, while she examines a bit of crystal shaped like a Moebius strip.
"Yes," Cascade says, and he launches into a long catalog of obscure functions. A great many of the parts could be abbreviated in their descriptions to describe them as "conduits" and "fuses," in essence. Another piece is some sort of flow regulator. Yet another is concerned with monitoring surges in the system. One piece is specifically concerned with temporal phenomena, though in and of itself, it serves no complete function.
After memorizing the functions, Envoy collects parts into her crystal box until it's full. "Hopefully Morpheus will be able to repair them, if he can't replicate them," she says. "It could be some time before I'm able to return with news on his progress, but I'll try to find a Dream Mage willing to help out with establishing communications."
Cascade nods solemnly. "We will await word from you, whatever the case may be."
"Whatever happens, I'm glad I came here Cascade," Envoy says, smiling to the ebony Svartifin. "You've taught me things I never imagined, and given me a new perspective on my place in the scheme of things."
"I am glad that you have gained something from the time spent here. You are welcome to return whether it be destiny or whimsy that brings you this way again," Cascade says.
Urbana, City of the Future
Skyscrapers of bronze and silver rise upward like stretched ziggurats, elongated pyramids, upright bullets, and in some cases bearing more than a faint resemblance to jukeboxes from a certain world called Earth long ago. Zeppelins drift lazily overhead, occasionally mooring at one of the airship docking needles atop the buildings. Covered crosswalks join many of the titanic structures, filled with pedestrian and equestrian traffic, and the occasional buggy. The city overlooks a harbor, and an ocean alight with the fiery colors of sunset, dotted with great ships steaming out toward or coming in from the horizon.
Envoy materializes in the middle of the sky, floating above the buildings. A strange airship flies by, one that has no need of an envelope, but rather is built with large sail-like wings on a spindly and delicate-looking frame, propelled by spinning blades attached to multiple motors along its central frame. Although it's too far away to tell for sure, the pilot's proportions (He is exposed to the wind, though he wears goggles and heavy leathers and mitts) suggest a human, or a very close approximation. Likewise, the statues that can be seen in the squares here and there suggest human presence, with no evidence so far of other sapient species. Envoy's sense alerted her that something or someone was to be transported from this world to Abaddon. But who – or what? That may take a bit to figure out, as she orients herself to this reality.
With an effort, the Aeolun tears her attention away from all the marvelous scenery, and focuses back on the engine song. She sings out a note, hoping to feel the resonance back from whatever has been placed in the transport queue.
As she sings out, a zeppelin drifts by. A small child presses her face against the glass window on one side of the gondola, her eyes going wide as she sees the strange creature gliding along. She tugs on the sleeve of a woman beside her insistently, but the woman seems too engrossed in chatting with another woman dressed very like herself, only with more impressive furs. The zeppelin passes on … and Envoy feels a tug. Somewhere down below…
Spreading her wings out, Envoy takes the final step to bring her into the local reality and glides down toward the tugging. She hopes her target won't be locked away in a building or other hard to access area.
In a large open plaza, there is what looks like some sort of fair going on. There are a number of statues and floats, all looking very temporary and less than sturdy compared to the rigid and timeless solidity of the skyscrapers and their solemn memorials. People mill about booths and platforms where Envoy can make out what look like lone hawkers showing off bizarre contraptions. Some sort of a winged contraption, looking much more complicated than the one that flew by earlier, flaps its wings and bounces up and down in an attempt to get off the ground, but it seems like it is doomed to failure. On another stage, people watch in awe at a large glass sphere within which sparkle purplish-glowing pulses of light from a central black rod. On a large oval track, a number of carriage-like vehicles on wheels putter around, racing each other at something less than a breakneck pace.
Envoy searches for a clear place to land amid the crowd, and tries to home in more accurately on her goal before all of the wonders of the fair can break her concentration.
A large banner reads, "Urbana – One Hundred Years of Progress," and other banners have other lofty-sounding slogans, full of references to Tomorrow and Progress and Innovation and Discovery. Envoy catches snippets of music from a band playing on a stand in the center of the park. It looks like there is a large open area right between the bandstand and a pond.
Setting down in the open area, Envoy moves around behind the bandstand to block herself from most of the crowd. Here she closes her eyes and sends out another 'ping' to try and locate the soon-to-be-gone item she needs to find.
"Oh my!" someone gasps. "An angel?" But most of this is drowned out by a larger, amplified voice from a stage nearby. "And so, dear ladies and gentlemen, I, Walter P. Thorndike the Third, am going to step into history by being the first to ride in the Meta-Dimensional Perambulator, to sail through the Ether and visit other realities! But before I do, is anyone brave enough to join me in this historic first journey?" The voice belongs to a mustachioed man speaking into a tube which leads to a large and unwieldy-looking contraption that involves a chugging steam engine and a large bellows, among other things, and behind him is some sort of a cage-like device flanked by large and pretty-looking "wings" of metal (with stylized feathers), and a great many mysterious-looking turning parts and flashing lights. Some of it might actually be functional.
That must be it, Envoy thinks, and comes around to wave her hand at Mr. Thorndike. "I'd like to come along, if that's alright!" she calls to the stage, her crown indeed causing a certain halo effect.
This prompts many gasps, shouts, and even a few very dramatic faints from amongst the exclusively human crowd gathered around the stage. While it seemed that but a moment ago, Mister Thorndike the Third had very little interest evidenced from the crowd, as Envoy approaches the stage, all eyes are in his general direction. Mr. Thorndike's jaw drops, but he returns to his stageman's smile, twirling one end of his mustache in thought, as if trying to figure out how this might work into the greater scheme of things. "Why, yes," he says, perhaps a bit absent-mindedly, judging by how surprised he looks at the sound of his own voice afterward. "I mean, of course! I … I'm honored! Step right up, please."
Stairs lead up to the stage, making access look quite easy, and the device looks like it could easily hold a dozen people – though, alas, there seem to be no chairs other than for the operator, who would be seated amidst a great many wheels and levers.
Envoy approaches the contraption, and looks for a spot to hang on. Even if she took the seat, it clearly isn't meant for someone with wings. "Where do I sit, sir?" she asks the man, trying on one of her more charming smiles. Smiling puts humans at ease, she knows.
"It won't be a long ride!" Mr. Thorndike says, momentarily forgetting himself and stepping away from the amplifier. He then returns to it, and says, "A sturdy, reinforced railing offers strong support, and protection from any falls, should we find ourselves traveling to a world where there is no solid ground to stand upon." Then, he looks away again, toward Envoy, and says, "Well … you just … step on in … and hold onto the railing." He leans over to the amplifier again. "Anyone … else?"
He has everyone's attention, certainly, judging from all the wide eyes and slack jaws … but no volunteers.
Envoy does as instructed, getting a good grip and making sure her wings and tail aren't likely to get yanked into any of the machinery.
Mr. Thorndike lingers a little longer, asking a couple more times, then being disappointed at the lack of response. At last, he heads to the machine, giving Envoy a curious look, and then he says, "I do hope you're my guardian angel… " He then takes his seat, and starts working at the levers and wheels. Steam gouts from the engines, and pieces begin to whirl with greater intensity. Envoy can feel a curious stirring within the fabric of reality, straining its substance.
"I will do my best once we reach our destination, Mr. Thorndike," the Aeolun promises.
Sparks fly, and Mr. Thorndike pulls his goggles down over his face. "You might want to cover your eyes!" he shouts over the rising whine of the engine. The sound rises in intensity to drown out any of the music from the bandstand, or any shouts from the gawking and pointing spectators. Envoy's view of the outside world seems to waver a bit. That sensation in her head suggests that the fabric is stretching to the breaking point. Mister Thorndike is perhaps more than merely showman, after all.
Half-closing her eyes is as far as Envoy goes towards protecting them – she doesn't want to miss this! I wonder where on Abaddon we'll come out on the other side though.
Reality warps and twists and jiggles like a puddle of water on a flat surface, jostled nearly to the point of breaking surface tension, but then returning to stability again … only to show another view entirely. Smoke rises from the engine, sparks fly, and a pressure whistle lets out an alarming shriek. Mr. Thorndike doesn't even notice his altered surroundings – the rusty rocks, the open breaks in the earth revealing the glow of molten lava and gouting clouds of smoke. He just furiously cranks on levers, pulling on release valves marked "Emergency," letting the steam escape from the boiler before all of the gauges go all the way through the red.
Envoy sniffs at the air, to see if it smells like her last visit to Abaddon. It certainly looks like the right place, if an unfamiliar part of it.
As the machine slows to a quiet, Envoy is fairly certain that she's either on Abaddon or, as Mr. Thorndike puts it, "Hell. Oh my Lord, what have I done to bring us here?"
"Exactly what you were supposed to, Mr. Thorndike," Envoy says, and climbs out of the machine. "My name is Envoy, by the way, and if I'm correct we are somewhere on the world of Abaddon, in the Primus star system – in an entirely different universe than one you're used to."
"Y-you … you mean … I'm still alive?" The mustachioed man lifts up his goggles, rubbing at his eyes, patting himself down, and then sniffing at the air – wrinkling his nose as he finds the sulfuric odor to be disagreeable.
"For the moment, yes," Envoy says. "But we shouldn't stay here much longer," she adds, and takes off her pack so she can pull out her Abaddonian cloak. "Do you have something warm to wear? I can never tell if humans will be warm enough."
"Oh!" the man says, as he starts to step away from the device, but then he heads back. "Actually, I am prepared for a great many environments." He opens up a cabinet, and starts pulling out a great many things – blankets, binoculars, tin boxes marked "rations", canteens, a tent roll, slickers, gloves, and so forth. "I – " He stops and stands up, looking at Envoy. "I'm really on another world, aren't I? It really worked!" He grins widely. "When we return … I'll be set for life! I'll be admitted into the Society, for sure!"
"That… er… that could be problematical," Envoy notes, after bundling up and removing Knick and Knack from their sleeping pocket in her pack. "It is unlikely that your reality exists anymore in this time frame, I'm afraid. You can't go back… but you should find this world to your liking, once we reach New Zion."
"I can't go back?" Mr. Thorndike sounds incredulous. "But of course I can! I've run tests before. I sent Snapper on a ride. He was the first, you know … though I'm still the first man. And you're the first … angel? I … goodness. I feel like I'm losing my mind."
"I'm an Aeolun, although that is admittedly an arbitrary term," Envoy says, and looks around for a good, high vantage point to get her bearings from. "What I really am is more complicated."
The man blinks. "But … if you're not an angel … are you … a visitor from another world, then? This one, perhaps?"
"I'm from another reality altogether, just like you," Envoy says, smiling. "We're known as Exiles, and as far I know you may be the first one to appear on Abaddon in a very, very long time. But don't worry, there are plenty of humans here, and other people that will probably seem more familiar than I do. Assuming I can find out which way to go from here."
Deciding to test out the extend of the return of magic to Abaddon, Envoy starts drawing a ritual circle in the red sand. This close to the incoming Portal, she hopes the effects will be more pronounced than elsewhere on the planet.
"Did you have magic on your world?" Envoy asks Thorndike conversationally. "It's just now coming back to this one, and I'm going to try and use some of it to find out where we are."
"Magic?" Thorndike echoes, as he staggers off of his vehicle, laden down with a more-than-ample supply of hiking and survival gear. "I … well … I … I'm not quite sure anymore."
Envoy finishes drawing a second, slightly different circle attached to the first one. She can feel the buzz of magic, but still isn't sure if her plan will work. She sits down in the main circle, and begins to sing her ritual; one she's just come up with. If she succeeds, a miniature version of the surrounding landscape should appear in the smaller circle, depending on how far she's able to extend the effects.
Thorndike asks a few questions about what Envoy's doing, but while she's singing, she can't exactly take a break. Fortunately for all involved, Envoy doesn't have to take long. The earth within the smaller circle stirs and arranges itself to resemble a model, in miniature, of the surrounding landscape … though the area that represents right here seems to shift now and then, questionable in its accuracy. (But then, one's own eyes help to fill in that particular detail.)
Envoy concentrates on expanding the map, as she searches for any detail that looks familiar to her from the other maps of Abaddon she's seen – which hardly cover the entire planet.
There are some canals in the distance, it seems, though it looks like some considerable hiking will be involved. (The way is likely to be much easier for Envoy if she flies alone, than if she is burdened by a walking human.) Beyond that … it seems at first that there's nothing for certain … but then, she notices a fine detail. At the very fringe of her map, there's a rocky outcropping that looks a bit unnatural. Upon closer examination and a little magical urging to focus … it looks like a half-sphere building of some sort. Perhaps one of those "Life Domes?"
Envoy closes down the ritual, having gotten the direction to the apparent Life Dome. The idea of having to cross the canals with a ground-bound human worry her a bit, since some of Abaddon's nastier native life forms seem to prefer that sort of terrain. She brushes away the circles, and checks the sun to see how much daylight is left.
The smoke rises in billows from the vents, making it hard to tell for certain, but at last she's able to pick out the sun on the horizon – coincidentally at much the same angle she saw the sun at in that world Mister Thorndike came from. Now, that just leaves the question of whether it's sunrise or sunset.
"How far do you think you can walk before needing to camp, Mr. Thorndike?" Envoy asks the man. "And do you have any firearms or other weapons in your supplies?"
"Yes," Thorndike says. "I've a small pistol, and a flare gun. You wouldn't happen to know how to handle a gun, would you? Of course, guns may be much different from your world. Come to think of it, I'd expected a bit of a … well … language barrier. Awfully lucky, we are, that you speak perfect English."
"Is that what it is?" Envoy asks. "I've never handled a firearm, and would rather you held onto them. I don't think there are many fliers among the local fauna, so I can use my wings to get away. There's a possible habitat some distance away, and I'm not sure if it would be best for me to fly ahead and arrange for a rescue party to come and recover you, of if it would be better for us both to proceed on foot as far as we can."
"Oh yes," Thorndike says. "You have wings. So you can … fly. That must come in terribly handy. Well … given that this is truly an alien world to me, I suppose I shall have to defer to your judgment. If you'll point in the general direction, I may as well start walking, while there's still light." He coughs lightly, and opens one of his canteens to pour some water over a scarf, then he wraps it around his face.
"That is probably best then," Envoy agrees, and points in the direction the Life Dome was in. "No sense in you hanging around all these fumes, after all. If you come across a densely vegetated area though, I recommend you pull back and wait. Keep an eye out for aircraft, and signal with your flare gun if one seems close enough."
"Aircraft? Ah, good to know this is a civilized world," Thorndike says in a muffled voice, as he checks his flares. In a case of wonderful timing, Envoy actually hears the buzz of an engine up above somewhere, though with all the smoke, she can't pinpoint just where the noise is coming from.
Envoy perks her ears, and says, "Hold on, and get your flare gun ready… I'm going to head above the fumes and take a look around. I think I hear an engine!" With a running start, she launches into the air.
After a bit of flying, Envoy gets high enough that she gets out of the smoke enough to make out a fixed-wing aircraft. It has three stacked wings in the rear, and a spinning propeller, with a much smaller canard wing in the front. The long and thin fuselage looks like it would be incredibly cramped for most any passenger … except one with a highly flexible spine, such as the Naga pilot, who sports a fur-trimmed leather coat, a thick scarf that flaps in the wind, leather cap, and big glass-lensed goggles. If it's possible for a snake, he looks immensely pleased with himself, soaring along in his craft.
Beating her wings, Envoy tries to climb higher and intercept the craft. "Hello!" she calls out in Imperial, using both voices to try and carry over the engine noise.
Envoy's shouting might be in vain, but eventually the serpent brings his craft about (It seems that he's circling, looking for something on the ground,) and then he spies Envoy. His jaw drops in surprise, and then he fumbles around for some binoculars, which he brings to bear.
Seeing that she has his attention, Envoy gestures towards the ground, trying to get across that she wants the serpent to land.
The serpent takes down his binoculars a couple times, puts them back up again, but then eventually seems to get the idea, as he takes his craft into another wide turn, and then starts to descend – toward an area not obscured by smoke, and not broken up by lava-filled chasms. (Those could make for a fairly rough landing, after all.)
Envoy turns and follows the plane down, noting the direction of the spot from the location of Thorndike and his machine… more or less, since she can't see them from the air due to the clouds of smoke and steam.
Her guess proves ample enough. By the time she gets down, she sees Thorndike rushing up to the aircraft, and waving, and being rather well adjusted to the fact that the aircraft is piloted by a large anthropomorphic snake, all things considered. Alas, the snake does not speak perfect English, and Thorndike seems to be trying to deal with the situation by speak-ing ver-y slow-ly and clear-ly. It doesn't help, though the snake looks nonetheless amused, as Nagas tend to be much of the time.
"Greetings," Envoy says in Imperial once she catches up. "Please do not mind my companion. He is a human Exile who has just arrived on this world from another reality. I am Envoy of Lothrhyn, and his name is Walter P. Thorndike the Third."
"Really?" the serpent hisses in Imperial. "Would thiS explain the bright flaSh we Saw in thiS plaCe? It waS moSt peculiar!"
The smoke continues to swirl about overhead, especially disturbed in the places where the aircraft flew but a moment ago, almost like a steam trail fading into existence, rather than out. Yes, there's something very peculiar about this area.
Envoy realizes she's still wearing her crown of crystals, but since the Naga hasn't commented on it she doesn't move to take it off. "That would have been our arrival. Thorndike created a machine to move him between worlds, and it brought him to this one," she explains. She begins to look a bit more warily towards the clouds, and adds, "For future reference though, it may no longer be safe to fly above this region. Do you know what a Forbidden Zone is?"
"YeS, I do!" the snake says, "but don't worry. You won't get Shot down thiS time for flying into Imperial territory!" He laughs raucously and snakishly, then says, "If you'd care to be our gueStS, I'll See about going back and arranging for Some tranSportation. A deviCe that travelS between worldS, hmm? A portable Gateway? Splendid! Oh, the KampfZengruppe would Split if they heard of Such a thing! Ha ha!"
"Oh, thank you," Envoy says, bowing to the snake. "But please do not fly over the clouds again. Things are changing on Abaddon; there will be magic here, but in time you will not need the Life Domes anymore. And we will also need transport to New Zion."
The serpent politely nods his head, though by what Envoy can read of Nagai expressions, it doesn't sound like she's quite getting through to him. "Of courSe! Well, you juSt Settle yourSelveS here … and I'll be back in a bit, eh?" He pulls himself further into his cockpit, crying out, "Prop CLEAR!"
Envoy scurries back from the aircraft, and then like all good Rephidimites watches to see if it will explode. "Mr. Thorndike," she calls, waving the man over. "Please step away, it is going to launch."
"Oh! Thank you," the human says, as he backs away from his curious inspection of the aircraft. The engine rumbles to life again, and the propeller starts to spin, knocking up considerable dust. Once it has built up to sufficient power, the serpent releases the brakes, and the craft starts rolling along, then turns about. The snake opens up the throttle, and the airplane rushes along the rusty soil, then lifts up into the air. It bobs a bit, as it hits some nasty turbulence, and Envoy sees some very unnatural activity in the smoke clouds as the craft passes, but no tragedy afflicts the Imperial pilot: he soars off into the distance.
"A talking reptile!" Thorndike marvels. "Amazing, the possibilities! I do hope they're friendly?"
"The Imperials will send a recovery team for us," Envoy says, keeping an eye on the clouds. "They are a very… hierarchical society, but generally friendly. I helped return a holy relic to them a year ago, so I think they will be helpful."
"Ah yes! Yes, returning a holy relic, definitely a way to score points with the natives," Thorndike agrees, looking a bit detached as he takes in his surroundings. "I hope they'll pose for photographs. I'll definitely have to take a few to bring back with me. I'll win the Explorer of the Year award, for sure!"
Envoy casts a sympathetic look toward the man. "You can't return though, Mr. Thorndike. Your machine may not function in this reality, and as I said, your original world no longer exists by this time. But this world should not be too different for you. Did you have dogs in yours?"
"Ah, time frame is no matter to me. My calculations show that time is just as malleable as space, you see," Thorndike says, looking confident. "And, yes, I have a fine dog, a golden Labrador retriever, Snapper. He was the first to use the machine, though, of course, he wasn't especially detailed in his report on the experience."
"Oh, it is a space-time machine then," Envoy says. For all she knows, it might be able to bring the man back to his own world after all. "Snapper could talk, but wasn't good with details? He wasn't able to operate your photograph maker?"
"Oh, no, he couldn't talk," Thorndike says, laughing. "He's a dog! But I suppose, what with reptile-men and angels and such in your world, maybe dogs can talk here. I must be open-minded to the possibilities of other worlds!"
"You will meet people called Karnors, which live alongside the humans here," Envoy explains. "At least, alongside the humans of the Expedition. They are bipedal wolves, and they can talk. I think you would get along with one Colonel Vesuvius here."
"Fascinating! Oh, and so there are humans here, too? Quite the varied population!" Thorndike exclaims. "Well, care for a bite to eat while we wait?" He opens up what turns out to be a metal lunch-box, and a turn-top thermos.
"Alright," Envoy says, and sits down on the ground. She rummages around in her own pack, bringing out the small bowls she uses to feed Knick and Knack with. "It's time to feed my pets anyway."
