“Okay, let’s do this,” Momo said, adrenaline rushing through her as she gripped the controls. A moment passed as the unfortunate reality gripped her back. “Viktor, just one more question.”

“Shoot, your highness?”

“How the hell do I operate this thing?”

The controls consisted of three handbrake-looking levers sitting just above the chicken-hatch. They reminded her of the controls of a manual car, only hand-operated.

There was the first lever—the clutch—which, according to Viktor, mediated the amount of energy outputted by the Chickenductor. You pulled it once quickly to start the process, then, as the electrical engine filled, the lever would slowly propel forward. Once it reached an adequate position, Momo had to pull it back—very promptly, Viktor urged—else the machine would overclock and cook Baryte like a thanksgiving turkey. A non-desirable outcome.

Then there was the second lever—the metaphorical gas pedal—which caused the built up electricity to shoot through the barrel of the conductor, emptying the engine. A tiny glass apparatus was attached to the side of the lever. Viktor tapped his pudgy finger on it.

“This is the charge meter,” he instructed, shouting over the hail. The meter ranged from empty to fully charged. “Pull the lever not a second before it hits its max. Anything less than full charge, and it’ll sputter out.” He made a gesture with his hands like a dying windmill.

He attempted to explain the science behind this phenomenon, but the words just washed over Momo like beach waves. Something something gnomic currents.

Eventually, he moved on to the third lever. It wasn’t a break, as Momo’s analogy begged for, but more of an eject button. Pulling it up would cause the hatch door to fly open and for the chicken to be expelled outwards—flung like a pebble in a slingshot. “It’s a preventative measure in the case of overclocking,” Viktor explained, glaring at her pointedly. “If you pull in too much energy, pull this without hesitation, do you hear me?”

Feeling chastised in advance, Momo nodded.

“I think I understand the controls. But how do we harness the Nether lightning?” she asked, looking upwards. “Is there some kind of spell we can use to redirect Nerida’s bolts into the engine? Or some kind of machine setting?”

Nyk’s protective carpet of Nether was blocking most of the sky, but Momo could still see flashes of scorching light dancing along its edges. Every so often, that light—burning yellow and purple, an intermingled nightmare of the natural and the sublime—would strike the ground, exploding an already exploded building into further debris. The ground would shake. Baryte would tremble.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Oh, you humor me, my queen,” Viktor laughed, slapping her shoulder. She did not return his amusement. “We already went over the details, did we not? We cast back the Nether carpet, allow the lightning to strike the machine, and subsequently let it charge the engine. The Chickenductor is grounded against such currents, so it won’t explode on impact or anything, if that’s what worries you. Baryte will be just fine.”

Momo’s face drained of color.

“Let it ‘strike the machine’? It’s not the undead bird I’m worried about, it’s me!” she exclaimed, gaping. He seemed confused by her concerns, and mildly offended at her lack of concern for the chicken. “I don’t get it. You said that it would be simple. That you would just guide the lightning to the barrel of the conductor, and then—”

“Yes, exactly! Guide it! That’s where you come in.”

“Me?”

“Well, of course.” He looked at her impatiently. “Lightning is attracted to high points, so you’re going to have to use that skill of yours—[Make Nether], or whatever it is—to construct a tall pole of Nether, hold it, and let the electricity flow through you and into the machine. It is a very simple circuit. In and out. You’ll be just fine.”

“Are you insane?” Sumire barked. “That would kill her!”

“What she said!” Momo added.

In the distance behind Viktor, another tall government building was struck by the airplane-sized hail. The structure crumbled like doughy pie crust.

“I can’t hold this for much longer,” Nyk said. She was exhausted, wincing. “The hail is coming faster and faster—if Sera was beating us with a bat before, she just traded it in for a chainsaw.”

With a frustrated sigh, Momo got out of her seat.

“I’m not risking it,” she said. “If I go up in flames, the Wraith Box activates. Then it’s over for all of us.”

“But… it would be so marvelous! Think of the scientific advancement, the accolades!” Viktor pressed. His lip then twitched, the tips of his ears flamed red, seemingly realizing what he had said. “And—and for the good of the people, of course. The citizenry.”

“I knew all you cared about were the accolades!” Momo said, her cheeks heating.

“They're not all I cared about—”

“If they're not, then you do it,” Momo said, hooking her thumb towards the chair. “I’ll make you the Nether. You get in the seat.”

Viktor looked suddenly very worried about the prospect of being struck by lightning.

“I’d rather not, you know, I’m more of a behind the scenes kind of guy.”

“Do you want to be a dead on the ground, bleeding out kind of guy?” Sumire said, grinning eerily. Momo had looked away for only a moment, and suddenly the pirate was looming over him. Towering over Viktor like the grim reaper.. “Because that’s where you’ll be unless you Get. In. The. Goddamn. Chair.”

Momo swallowed, pupils dilating. That’s my girl.

“But, but—” Viktor squirmed.

Before Viktor could run, hide, or do anything equally cowardly or embarrassing, Sumire picked him up like a ragdoll, placed him in the seat, and glared.

“Nyk,” she said, turning her head. “Pull back the curtain.”