The car landed on the hard surface as if it had been dropped a couple feet straight down, which was unusual. Typically the setting just changed after a jump and nothing was in motion. At any rate, the green SUV seemed to handle it just fine. Grit exhaled, and looked over at Cassia. Her face had gone completely pale and she was gaping out the windshield. Grit followed her gaze and gasped. On the hood of the car was an enormous black snake.
“Cassia, stay calm and move slowly,” Grit warned. He could see the snake was coiled in a striking position, and was watching her through the glass. She nodded, and cautiously moved to open her door. As soon as the door opened, the snake hissed loudly. Cassia shut the door again.
“I’ll get out and move it,” Grit said, but as he grabbed his handle a second snake slithered down the side of the car. This one wasn’t in a striking position, but Grit yanked his hand back nonetheless.
“I told you the jumps were getting worse,” Cassia said, her voice strained. “What do we do now?”
“Drive?” Grit suggested, but Cassia gestured to the dashboard. Leaning over, he could see that the gas gauge was showing empty. He sat back in his seat with a growl. Cassia leaned forward to look in the rearview mirror, and on the hood the snake struck. It hit the windshield with a jump, and Cassia let out a yelp. Seemingly unfazed, the snake immediately coiled itself back up.
“Wonder what pissed him off,” Grit said.
“Probably getting yanked off its universe and put here,” Cassia replied. Grit shrugged and shifted in his seat.
“I guess that would do it,” he said, slowly reaching over and sliding Cassia’s knife out of its sheath on her belt.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Back door,” was all he said, as he clambered between the front seats and landed on the bench seat in the second row. From there, he pulled the clasp that opened the hatch door at the back of the vehicle. Slowly he let it open, praying there weren’t any more snakes waiting to surprise him. He was in luck, though, and he stepped out onto the ground safely. Slowly, he peeked around the edge of the car on the driver's side. The coast was clear, so he snuck up the side of the car until he was directly below Cassia’s window. He took a deep breath, and then sprung.
Grit leapt from ground, using the driver’s side mirror as leverage. The snake hissed and tried to strike in his direction, but it was too late. The knife swept the snake’s head clean off, and the body slid from the hood. Grit was sprawled across the hood, his momentum having carried him fully onto the car. Looking up, he saw the second snake staring back at him. It reared back, and Grit knew he was done. In the next second, though, the snake’s head exploded in red mist and the crack of a gunshot reached his ears simultaneously. Grit let his forehead thunk down on the hood.
“Nice work with the knife,” Cassia said from behind him. “I don’t know about you, but I think we should get out of here.”
----------------------------------------
The walk back to the Pathfinder was significantly less eventful than their initial landing had been. They had quickly discovered that they had landed only a few streets away from where the ship was stored, and it hadn’t taken long to make their way back to the rooftop. Grit watched as Cassia put her hand out in front of her, seemingly into the open air. The Pathfinder suddenly shimmered into view about a foot in front of her, the door wide open. Grit started to follow but a ball of scales came shooting out of the door, somehow transforming into a pangolin a second before it crashed into him.
“Tango, you made it!” Grit exclaimed, hugging the strange animal as he entered the ship. Cassia raised an eyebrow at him as he entered.
“That animal is so weird,” she said. Grit just shrugged and sat down in the seat. There was now a large flat space jutting out from the back wall that hadn’t been there before. It looked like a table. Grit watched Cassia put her hand on the ship wall, and the table slowly melted back into the exterior. Grit whistled as the door also filled itself back in.
“This is some ship,” he said. Cassia nodded, hand still on the ship wall.
“I’m pretty sure it can do more than we know,” she said. “If only I could remember everything the Elder said about Pathfinders.” She spoke softly, as if she was talking to herself. Grit sat for a moment, then stood up abruptly.
“I’m going to take Tango for a walk,” he declared in his customary growl, and then he scooped up the scaly pangolin ball and stepped outside into the bright sunlight.
Grit inhaled and exhaled deeply, then stretched his arms to their full height. He’d expected to enjoy a moment without action, but he’d started feeling strangely restless. Besides, Cassia was giving off a vibe that said she planned to be in there a while, trying various things with the Pathfinder. Grit gazed across the rooftop as Tango uncurled and started slowly wandering and sniffing at the air. They were on a large building, and Grit couldn’t actually see the far edge of the roof around all the various air conditioning units and other items popping up here and there. He was fairly certain there was a rooftop garden in the distance, so he began to amble in that direction.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tango suddenly begin to sprint towards one of the larger air conditioning boxes. For a moment he was unconcerned. In fact, he was more impressed with the pangolin’s speed than anything else. Then some sort of sixth sense kicked in from the back of his mind, and he found himself pulling his handgun out and racing after the animal. As he ran, a figure rolled out from behind the air conditioning unit and fired. Grit heard the bullet zip past his face as he dropped into a roll. Too late, he noticed that there was a second man approaching from the other side of the unit.
Grit came out of his roll firing at the first man, and simply hoping the second one missed. He watched his bullet hit his target’s neck as the crack of a gunshot rang out. Almost in slow motion, he realized Tango was leaping off the air conditioning unit, and curling into a ball of scales as he did. The bullet hit the pangolin with a strange ping and thud combination of sounds. Grit forced himself to focus on the enemy and pushed his worry, and disbelief, about his pet out of his mind. He hustled behind the air conditioning unit and peeked out.
He was now in the position the original two men had been in, and the remaining man was a sitting duck. Grit started to move when he noticed a third man arriving on the roof over by the Pathfinder. For a moment he was struck with indecision. Unless she’d heard the gunshots, Cassia had no idea there was an armed man approaching the ship. Grit leaned out and fired a shot towards the Pathfinder that clanged off the outside. The man approaching the ship froze and then hit the deck. Grit ducked back behind his cover as bullets smacked the air conditioning unit. Counting to three, he breathed deep, and then sprinted across the gap between his air conditioning unit and a large satellite dish. He heard bullets whizzing behind him, more than there should’ve been. He risked a glance outward as he dove behind the dish, and saw the man from the Pathfinder had joined the firefight.
Grit’s shoulder hit the ground hard, and he grunted in pain as he curled up behind the satellite. He sat up slowly, back to shooters. He was tired, he realized. It had been many years since he’d been fighting this consistently. He also realized that it was still invigorating, and he decided not to dwell on what that meant for his mental health. Tango ambled up to him from somewhere. Grit could see a dent in the animal’s scales on the left side, where the bullet had hit. Tango seemed otherwise unharmed, though.
“Hey buddy,” Grit said, patting the animal. Gunfire exploded behind him, closer this time, and the pangolin curled up into a scaly ball. Behind him, Grit could hear the men reloading, which meant they were about to make an attack around the satellite dish. He took one more deep breath, and then leapt into action. Seizing the pangolin ball, he jumped out from behind the dish and hurled it at the first man he saw. The man fired wildly and then the pangolin hit him in the chest. Grit used the moment to swing his gun around towards the other man, who was flanking him on the other side. He fired twice in rapid succession, and the man jerked twice and fell to the ground.
Spinning, Grit crouched and aimed for the first man, but he was gone. Tango still lay where he had fallen, curled tightly. Grit frantically scanned the rooftop in front of him but there was no one to be seen. Then the crunch of a slide being pulled back yanked his vision to the left. Somehow the man had circled all the way around the air conditioning vent. Grit was impressed. The man must’ve been moving fast immediately after getting hit by a flying pangolin. He turned and faced his death. The man with the gun inclined his head almost respectfully. Grit decided it would be okay to go out this way. There certainly were worse ways.
A knife suddenly appeared in the man’s neck. For a long moment he stared at Grit, wide eyed. Then he slowly keeled forward, the gun firing as he fell and burying a bullet into the rooftop. Grit realized he’d been holding his breath, and he slowly exhaled as Cassia walked up and retrieved her knife.
“You know, I can’t keep saving your ass like this,” she said, wiping her knife on the dead man’s uniform and then sheathing it. “You’re going to have to start looking out for yourself.” Grit grinned at her, but the adrenaline rush of battle was fading, and he felt weary and old. Cassia must’ve noticed.
“Let’s get back to the Pathfinder,” she offered. “I think we’ll just have to start looking somewhere. Better than doing nothing.” She reached down and cautiously picked up Tango and handed him to Grit.
“Here’s your strange pet,” she said. “Did I see you throw him at that guy?” Grit grunted a laugh and nodded. Cassia shook her head.
“You’re crazy, man,” she said as she climbed into the ship. Grit followed her in and collapsed back on his chair. He tried not to wonder if he should’ve just stayed there in the first place. Cassia had her hand back on the ship wall, and Grit could feel an occasional pulse of energy.
“I still haven’t figured out how to get it to do anything,” Cassia said, sounding frustrated. “I need a computer screen or something.”
“Just tell it to find Mel,” Grit suggested facetiously, as he settled back in the chair that was now more reclined than it had been before. He saw Cassia roll her eyes, and then he closed his. He was hungry now, to go along with being tired, which was not a great combo. He was about to suggest to Cassia that they pick up some food, but she cut him off.
“We need to find Kevin first,” Cassia said firmly. Grit opened one eye.
“Didn’t you tell Tek you’d find Mel?” he asked. Cassia nodded.
“Yes, but I didn’t tell her when. And Kevin possibly went to The Singularity’s headquarters, which is where we need to be in order to get answers from Thorn-41.
Grit started to protest but Cassia continued.
“Once we get the information from Thorn, we can go find Mel and…” she trailed off and glanced at Grit.
“Well, we can see what happens then,” she finished lamely. Grit again opened his mouth to bring up the issue of food, when Cassia suddenly slapped her hand against the wall.
“Find me Kevin-68, somewhere in the multiverse,” she said, and the ship pulsed and began to vibrate. Cassia looked at Grit with excitement.
“It’s doing something!” she said, unhelpfully. Grit braced himself for movement, but none came. The ship simply stopped vibrating, and then the entire interior blinked once in a brilliant green flash.
“What was that?” Grit asked, somewhat worried that Cassia had caused the ship to malfunction.
“I believe, Lieutenant, that we jumped to Kevin’s current universe.” Cassia’s voice was full of awe.
“And I also believe we know why the IPF wants this ship so badly,” she added.