(Dylan)

The engineer flitted about his workshop with the frenetic energy of a squirrel hopped up on mana-tea. Shells, canisters, and wired boxes clattered together in his long bony arms, threatening to spill onto the cluttered floor where an alarming number of scorch marks marred the wooden floorboards.

Dylan’s pulse raced as he forced himself to swallow, his body tense with the stress of every precarious sway and near-drop. The draconi skeleton spun around with a flippancy that made Dylan clench as he searched for the last device. He tightened his fists until his nails bit into his palms, wanting to shut his eyes but unable to look away.

‘What if one slips through his ribs?’ His throat tightened as his mind filled with the image of a canister bouncing off the engineer’s pelvis and rolling toward him.

Engineer Echo placed each device with the reverent care of an enthusiastic hobbyist showing off his collectables. His bony fingers lingered on the last explosive, as if savoring the moment before stepping back to admire his work. When he finally finished, a tidy line of explosives stretched across the table. Only then did Dylan realize he’d been holding his breath. He let it out with a shaky exhale.

The engineer stepped aside, gesturing grandly at the array of explosives like a showman unveiling his masterpiece. “I’ve designed an arsenal of smart devices: motion-detectors, thermal-detectors, light-and-shadow sensors, and sound-triggers. If it moves, radiates heat, or makes a peep, these beauties have you covered.”

Dylan frowned at the idea of putting such devices in anyone’s hands, but Athrax’s expression told a different story. The old soldier looked on with the wide-eyed delight of a kid on Christmas morning, ready to tear into the presents under the tree.

The engineer pointed further down the line with a flourish. “I’ve also got the basics—pressure-activated and timer-activated.” He gestured to a squat metal mine with a pressure trigger on top. Beside it sat a cylindrical canister with a small stone tablet affixed to the side.

“And over there, we’ve got the magnetic-activated one.” He jabbed a finger toward a device housed in a clear, crystal box at the far end of the room, isolated from the others. “It’ll detonate on contact with metal.”

Wedge ran his fingers along his jaw, and asked, “How does that help us with an arc beetle?”

Engineer Echo threw up his hands in mock concession. “Perhaps… I was a bit overzealous.” His bones creaked faintly as he shrugged. “It’s my job to make them. Their application…” He rolled his bony hand out toward Runemist. “I’ll leave up to you.”

The engineer pointed his eyeless skull at each of them as he made his way to unveil his ultimate creation. “This last one came to me in a dream last night.” He opened an ornately fashioned box that sat on his desk, pulling out an egg-shaped explosive.

Holding it up, the engineer marveled at the device, turning it carefully in his skeletal hand as he described it. “This multi-charge explosive features not only a secondary, but a devastating tertiary explosion. It uses a novel combination of proximity, timer, and chemical triggers.”

Dylan heard Athrax’s breath quicken with excitement before glancing over. The old soldier fixed his wide eyes on the device, his tail twitching in barely contained anticipation.

“The name…” He paused, his bony fingers lightly tapping against the device. “Is still a work in progress.”

Dylan’s heart nearly gave out as the engineer casually tossed the grenade a foot into the air. “You throw the device, and the first charge triggers on impact—”

He paused, catching the grenade mid-air, and noticed the collective bated breath from the group.

“Oh…” Engineer Echo chuckled, holding up the device as to reassure them. “You’ll need to throw it a bit harder than that if you want it to go off.” He resumed tossing it lightly, playing hot-potato with himself.

“Where was I? Ah, yes. The first charge releases a highly viscous material that binds the device to the target, locking it in place and starting the internal timer. Two seconds later, the secondary charge detonates, creating an explosion while super heating the dual-purpose binding agent. That triggers the chemical reaction, setting off the third and last charge when the material reaches its combustion point—resulting in another explosion.”

“Splat, crack, boom bomb? No…” He shook his head, muttering as he continued testing names.

Dylan pointed to the egg-shaped explosive. “You made a sticky grenade.”

The engineer froze, then repeated the words slowly, testing them on his non-existent tongue. “Sticky grenade… Hmm. Short, accurate, and descriptive. I like it.” He nodded to Dylan. “Sticky grenade it is.”

“We’ll take the timer-activated explosive.” Runemist pointed to the cylinder with the stone tablet attached to it.

Athrax shot her a worried look, his tail unmoving behind him. “And the sticky grenade, too, right?” His eyes pleaded with her. “You know, just in case?”

Runemist shook her head. “No.”

Athrax let out a disappointed grunt. “Fine.” He turned to Engineer Echo, holding out a clawed hand. “I’ll take the sticky grenade—”

“No. He won’t,” Runemist snapped, slapping away his outstretched hand. Her glare, sharp as a blade, silenced the low growl rising in his throat. Athrax sighed heavily and slumped back, crossing his cybernetic arms as he turned to admire the other explosives scattered around the room.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“Do you have any remote detonation ones?” Dylan asked absentmindedly, unsure if he’d missed them on the previous lists.

The engineer tilted his skull, the faint creak of bone breaking the silence. “Remote detonation? What do you mean?”

“Yeah, you’ve got kinetic, timer, chemical, magnetic, sonic—but what about a wireless trigger? Like in the movies back home, they used cell phones to send a remote signal over a wireless connection.” Dylan pursed his lips as he thought of a Mother of Dragons equivalent. “Like how echo locators work. Do you have anything that could send a remote signal like that?”

Engineer Echo stood up straighter, his entire frame rattling with excitement. “Yes, we do… Echo locators! That’s brilliant.” His bony hands shot up, rattling slightly as he shook them in glee.

Runemist’s glare snapped to Dylan. “We only have two pairs,” she said briskly, her arms crossing tightly over her chest.

The engineer was like an avalanche—once set in motion, nothing could stop him from barreling through his course. He began pacing in front of the group, his skeletal fingers twitching as he worked through his thoughts aloud.

“Using a remote, wireless signal to detonate the explosive…” His pacing faltered as he paused, his voice dropping to a mutter. “You could set it off from the safety of the ship.”

His skull lifted sharply, sockets locking onto Dylan. “And I thought my sticky grenade was a novel, boundary-pushing idea. But you…” He jabbed a bony finger at him, his voice rising with excitement. “You, my passenger, are a genius!”

He took an unnecessary, deep breath, his ribcage expanding with theatrical flair. “Just imagine it… Detonating from any distance, safely, at will. A power to rival even magic itself,” the draconi skeleton said in wonder.

He turned to Runemist, his sockets almost pleading. “You simply must let me have a set of your echo locators.” Stepping closer, he clasped her hands in his bony grip, his skeletal joints clicking faintly as he made his case. “This could revolutionize demolitions as we know it! A live trial—a practical experiment—would be groundbreaking for my research. Imagine the paper I could write!”

He stood there, gripping her hands firmly. The weight of his vision depended on her answer.

Dylan bit his lip, unease twisting inside of him. Had he just made a mistake? The thought of advancing their warfare capabilities hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Maybe we shouldn’t—”

Runemist’s gaze dropped to their shared touch. Her fingers slipped free, and she stepped back, her movement cautious but deliberate. Her eyes lingered on his empty grasp for a moment, weighing the implications.

Finally, her decision solidified. “Fine.” She turned, her voice crisp as she gestured sharply to P’reslen and Wedge. “Hand over a pair."

“Oh, I am positively vibrating.” Echo’s skeletal hands rattled slightly as he collected the rocks, his enthusiasm contagious. “I’ll get started on this immediately. It’ll be worth it. I promise.”

They left the engineer to his own devices, his muttered excitement following them out the door.

Runemist paused before addressing both groups. “Rest, relax, and recharge. We’ve got a lot of work a head of us, but if we do it right, Mother willing, by this time tomorrow, we’ll all be going home.”

Dylan glanced at the group as they exchanged smiles. Hope had lifted their spirits, but they weren’t out of the jungle yet. As Runemist had reminded them, there was still work to do—and laundry.

Eury wasted no time in rushing past Dylan to get to her cabin.

“Where is she off to?” W’itney asked, tilting their head.

“Deathwash machine, by the smell of it,” Hay’len replied dryly. The stench lingered on them all, but Eury had gotten the worst of it.

“That’s fine. I just want a hot shower,” Dylan said, rubbing at his sore neck.

W’itney shot him a look, narrowing their eyes. In that moment, Dylan understood exactly what Eury meant about rivals. Without another word, the outgoing draconi bolted down the hall and toward the showers.

“I’m going first,” W’itney called back, their shirt halfway over their head as they disappeared around the corner.

Dylan gave Hay’len a questioning look and gestured toward W’itney’s retreating form.

“You get used to it…” Hay’len shrugged. “Eventually.” A faint grin tugged at the corner of their mouth.

Their trek back had taken more out of him than he realized. Without Ostello to restore his energy, he was running on fumes, his legs heavy and his head ached. Soon, even sheer force of will wouldn’t be enough to keep him going.

He had a choice to make, and the deadline loomed: stay on the ship or eat. Picking neither would put them all at risk.

Eury would be busy with the deathwash machine for a bit, and W’itney took long showers. Actually, all three of the draconi seemed to linger forever in the shower.

‘Probably a dragon thing,’ he thought.

It’d be all too easy to fall asleep fully clothed again, especially given how exhausted he felt. His body ached, and his head throbbed, but somehow, he was wide awake. Staying out of his cabin was just a precaution.

Most of the common areas, like the mess hell, were off-limits in his mind. The faintest smell of food, even just a whiff, made him sick with a painful hunger. He sighed, deciding to go for a stroll instead. Until now, he’d barely had any free time to explore the airship.

Previously, he’d kept to the passenger cabins, the mess area, the washroom, and above deck. But the ship was bigger than he’d realized, and tonight, his feet carried him to places he’d never been. Occasionally he’d run into a lamprian wearing a black or blue bandana. They’d offer him a polite nod before hurrying on, their preoccupied expressions making it clear they weren’t available for a chat.

Dylan stopped in his tracks, tilting his head to listen. The wooden hallways had grown more vocal since the ship had taken to the ground, creaks and groans weaving through the silence like a chorus of complaints. But underneath it all, there was something else.

He strained his ears, holding his breath to catch the faint sound.

“Is that… moaning? I really hope it’s not a ghost,” he muttered, too tired to be afraid.

Between starving, crash landing in the jungle, and hiding from kaiju, he really didn’t want to add haunted to his growing list of ‘shit to deal with’.

He took a few tentative steps, straining his ears. The moaning resolved into quiet sobbing—someone was upset.

The sobbing led him to a closed door with a sign above it: Brig.

Placing a hand on the door, he found it unlocked. Its hinges groaned as he pushed it open; the noise breaking the heavy silence. The room beyond was cloaked in darkness, its only light spilling in from the hallway behind him, casting harsh shadows on the floor.

“Hello?” Dylan called out, his voice echoing faintly in the dark room.

The crying stopped abruptly.

“Is… anyone in here?” he asked again, softer this time.

A sniffle broke the silence coming from the corner of the rather large room. Otherwise, the space remained quiet.

“I can hear you. Hang on. Let me get the light—”

“No!” a feminine voice cried out, sharp and urgent, cutting him off. “Please, don’t,” she said in a softer, pleading tone.

Dylan froze, his hand hovering near the doorframe, mid-search for the light. The voice was unmistakable—his friend, the smallest lamprian. Relief flickered through his exhaustion, but concern quickly followed as he wondered why she was in the brig. “Echo, is that you?” he asked gently, waiting patiently.

A long pause stretched between them before she finally responded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yes…”