The shadows that occupied the back of the garage only lengthened. Keil welded and cut and soldered; Jace brooded. Somewhere in the darkness was Blake, but he did not make a sound, simply inhabited the space in a menacing way. The outside lights of the garage turned themselves on as dusk settled and burned as the sky grew dark. Jace watched Keil intently, hunched on a stool nearby.

The forcefield mechanism looked like a series of medallions, attached by spindly arms to solid objects in between. There were seven devices in all, connected together by thin wire. Jace was not sure it would work but it was not his primary concern.

“I’ve seen magic before,” he said, for the eighth time. “I’ve seen magic. That... that wasn’t magic.”

“Can we stop analysing the poor man?” said Keil, poking a battery into its slot.

“Something big and silver and beefy grabbed me by the arms, from his body,” said Jace, not caring whether or not Blake heard. “That’s not only a medical marvel, but it’s... something else entirely.”

Keil sighed. “He obviously doesn’t want it discussed. Why don’t you leave him alone?”

Jace shook his head. ‘Leaving it alone’ was not in his nature.

Keil, however, smiled at the contraption on the work bench and stood up. He brushed himself down and, with a nervous double-take, peered into the darkness. He did not particularly want to be the person to enter the lion’s den, but he had an oath to uphold and he intended to see his end of the bargain through. While he was against Jace’s probing questions, he had been scared by what he saw and he did not want it turned against him.

Blake saved my life, he thought, bucking himself up. He would not hurt me.

Gingerly, he walked into the gloom and swapped his dark work goggles for his glasses, so he could see better.

“Um... Blake?”

There was a shift in the darkness. Two dull, silver eyes glinted.

Keil caught his breath, attempted a brave smile.

“I think it’s ready.”

The shape became a man as it stepped back out into the main garage. Blake’s eyes did not shine – Keil wondered perhaps if he had imagined it – and he seemed despondent, deflated, far from the powerful being he had been hours before. There was a weariness to his movements like his limbs were weighted down. Jace looked up, glared, but said nothing.

“It’s simple enough,” said Keil quietly, following at a safe distance. “The emitters will attach to Wyvern’s body and project a forcefield around it. Large enough for us to fit inside, too, comfortably. I...” Keil paused as Blake lifted a medallion, face stoic, and nodded. “I hope it’s to your liking,” he finished softly.

Gently, Blake placed the medallion back on the table. Keil wished he could tell what the stranger was thinking. He was so still, so quiet, that the previous incident felt like a bad dream. What was he hiding in the silence?

“Blake?” Keil whispered.

Blake did not look at anyone when he spoke. “I just need you to set it up. Finish the engine. Then you can go. I’ll pay you.”

The bluntness of his tone stung Keil, but he tried not to let it show. Jace, however, raised an eyebrow and put his tongue in his cheek. Blake did not turn when he addressed the doctor.

“You can go.”

Jace’s face darkened. “Oh, how charitable of you.”

Keil only knew that Blake was speaking to him by the subtle change in his tone – it was less barbed, more instructive.

“We’ll do it this evening. You can work through the day. When it’s finished, I’ll leave.”

It was silent. Keil glanced at Jace, but he seemed to have already lost interest in Blake; he was spinning ship nuts on the worktable.

“Then…” He paused, picked up his shoulder bag. “Shall we go, Blake?”

Blake nodded once.

Keil gathered up the medallions and its conductive nets, alongside the tools he needed to finish the job and a few pieces of piping for the engine, and he waited for confirmation from Blake that it was time. Blake left first. Keil hesitated and looked at Jace once more, but Jace was so deep in his own head that there was no talking to him. With a short sigh, Keil followed into the heat.

Wyvern’s engine had stopped smoking, thanks to the efforts of the Enfant Robots, but it was still in more pieces than Blake would have liked. It was high time he got off this rock before he made any more messes or mistakes; he had more pressing concerns than the theories of a man with too much money.

The immediate problem, though, was that the Desert Foxes had increased the guard. At first count, Blake saw twelve.

He and Keil waited until they saw Miki. The little robot was giving orders to his subordinates, hopping around in the shadows and ushering everyone out of the way of the Desert Foxes. Blake leaned around a corner and gave a sharp whistle. Miki paused, turned, and jumped up and down when he saw his new master. Blake waved him over.

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When Miki finally reached them, Blake knew how he was going to organise the repairs. He took a medallion from Keil’s shoulder bag.

“See this?” he said to Miki. Miki nodded. “I need all of these fixed to Wyvern. Quickly. Can you do it?”

Miki’s face showed a loading screen, then a checkmark. Blake, finally, felt safe enough to smile.

“Great. Thank you.”

Miki turned to the ship. His eyes flashed in a series of patterns and almost instantly, seven robots rushed to assist.

“Arr-bop-tat. Arr-pap.” Miki gestured to the medallions that Keil was taking from the bag. “Arrrrr. Arrr-tat-pap-pap!”

The robots nodded and each collected a medallion, then ran in a neat single-file line towards Wyvern. Blake nudged Miki after them and, once he was sure the robots were safely hidden in the ship’s shadow, he took the bracelet from his pocket.

“Ready?” he said to Keil.

Keil nodded nervously.

But before Blake could even begin, he saw a figure approaching from the street, holding a gun.

“Let’s do this already,” said Jace, loading the weapon.

He strode straight past the hiding place, pointed the gun at the thugs and pulled the trigger. A jolt of electricity jumped from the gun’s barrel and stabbed the dust at the thugs’ feet. They jumped, yelled, and stared.

“Come on!” Jace shouted at them, and fired again.

Blake and Keil stood, watching, stunned.

“What’s he doing here?” Blake whispered.

“I don’t know,” said Keil, hugging his bag to his stomach, “but it’s the distraction we need, I think.”

“Right.”

Keil set off at a run. Blake took a deep breath and slid on his gauntlet.

Better help the poor idiot before he gets hurt, he thought, crouch-running towards Jace.

“Wonder what this button does,” Jace said. He hit another switch and pulled the trigger again.

Two barrels, beneath the first, spat out bright pink balls of laser. The Desert Foxes scattered, trying to find cover and load their own guns. Jace shrugged.

“I like the first once better,” he said, flicked the switch and began burning lightning into the ground, forcing the thugs further and further away.

Blake glanced at Wyvern. Five medallions were affixed. Keil sat at the engine, waiting his turn. Quickly, Blake slid under the wing and hissed, “Jace, get in here!”

“Burn, bitches!” Jace laughed, spraying the dirt with electricity.

“Jace!”

“Oh, all right, I’m coming, great stars.”

Jace sprinted through the thugs and dived towards the ship, just as a neon blue glow erupted from the seven emitters. Blake watched the dome bleed downwards, four metres away from Wyvern’s body, and come together in a neat semi-sphere of dull light.

Jace blinked hard. “I do not believe that worked.”

The Desert Foxes seemed perplexed, too. They emerged from hiding places, poked gun barrels at the light; it rippled like a half-iced pond, but remained intact.

“I refuse to believe that Keil built anything that works,” said Jace, firmer this time.

Keil was already working, too consumed in his job to much care about the thugs circling like vultures. One began shooting, but his bullets became electric rain down the side of the dome in a pretty pink splatter.

Eventually, though, they clocked Blake.

“You can’t hide in there forever, Blake!” one yelled, pointing.

Jace pursed his lips. “Hey Blake, how do they know your name?”

But Blake knew how. He stared, calculating the odds of them getting out alive, and decided it was not worth his energy to engage with the Desert Foxes any further. He got up and walked to the engine.

“We can wait, y’know,” the thug said, with a nasty grin. “There’s so much Green on your head that we’ll all be rich men. So we can wait.”

Keil turned, frowned. “What are they -?”

“Ignore them,” Blake said, feeling uneasy. “Keep working.”

“Think we’ll keep you alive,” they taunted. “More money in it if you’re alive.”

The men snickered.

“Yeah, I think King wants to teach you some manners, first,” another said.

The laughter increased. Blake’s stomach turned cold.

Jace rounded the corner and said, “You’re running from Milo King?”

Nobody said anything. The game was up. Blake’s mouth was suddenly dry, but there was nothing he could say anyway. Jace’s jaw slackened.

“I take it all back,” he said softly. “That’s a good enough reason to run.”

“Who…” Keil cleared his throat. “Who’s Milo King?”

“Later,” said Blake, noticing how sharp his voice became. “Work.”

The night wore on. Enfant Robots carried tools and parts, and Keil became progressively dirtier as he climbed in and out of the engine chambers, soldering and welding and wiring. Blake stood with a torch in his hand for so long that he lost feeling in his fingers. Jace paced, watching the emitters, checking the forcefield’s integrity as the Desert Foxes periodically shot the dome, trying to find a weakness. After a while, they reverted to throwing rocks. Some gave up and took a seat. A few onlookers watched from the street entrances for a while, but left when nothing happened. Two Desert Foxes followed Jace’s pacing around the edge, sneering at him. The Enfant Robots eventually began digging a pit beneath Wyvern’s hull, ready for the promised take-off.

But as the sun began to rise, there was a problem.

“Um, Keil?” said Jace.

Keil, face in the engine, did not respond. Blake raised the torch again, inspected the parts. The engine looked better, but he was no expert, so he turned to see what Jace wanted. Jace was looking at one of the emitters on the side of the ship.

“Don’t want to worry you or anything,” he said. He tapped the medallion.

Blake frowned, lowered the torch and came over. The solid blue line that had been encircling the emitter’s centre was flickering.

“I think the dome’s about to break,” Jace said, still addressing Keil.

The whole field blared with light all at once, dimmed, then sputtered. Blake stared, heart pounding.

“Keil, hurry,” he said, rushing back to the engine.

“Nearly there…” said Keil, wriggling.

The Desert Foxes started. Some leapt to their feet. Their luck was finally in.

“Miki!” Blake yelled. Miki appeared, head cocked. “Get all of the robots inside the ship, now! Go!”

Miki ran. Jace slid the gun back into his hands, looking out at the twelve men ready to rush them. Blake steeled himself.

“Jace, as soon as the field breaks, run,” he said.

Jace snorted. “Run? I’m not going anywhere.”

Blake frowned. Jace grinned.

“About time I got off this dust-rock,” he said.

Blake did not have time to protest. The forcefield flickered again, more alarmingly than before. Miki herded the Enfant Robots inside the ship.

“Miki, start the engines!” Blake said.

“Wait!” yelled Keil. “Not yet!”

Blake grabbed Keil by the scruff of the neck and shoved him towards Jace; Jace grabbed the small mechanic’s arm and pushed him inside the ship.

“Blake, in!” Jace said.

Blake considered the thugs, the ship, the forcefield. There was no time. The engines behind him shuddered, sparked, and there was a roar and a blast of heat. The blue dome started to shiver out of existence.

“Moon-head, IN!” Jace ordered.

Blake dove for the door and scrambled inside. Just as the forcefield faded, Jace backed up the hatch, blasted a spray of electricity from the gun and jumped backwards, slamming the door latch closed with a heavy thud.

The Desert Foxes opened fire all at once. The shots pinged off the red shell of Wyvern, making a dazzling light show of pink and blue. The engines blazed.

Wyvern shrugged off the dirt and the dust, the smog and burn-marks. The side-thrusters tilted towards the ground and jets of flame surged out. She began her ascent. Dust billowed around her, blinding the thugs, flapping their scarves in the artificial wind. Before anyone could do anything else, she was up, and in the air, and flying up, up, and out.