I am dreaming of my grandparents. My blanket is withdrawn and my head is lowered. I have been in enough battles to show no external reaction while I push out my aura. Nothing. I open a side idea to see a red light blinking on the console. A technical malfunction? In a vehicle that has not been moving?

Speculation is not useful. But first, how long have I slept? Three hours and fourty minutes. Not too bad. I needed it. I am checking the craft. I’ve decided to call it a craft. The result is almost comical. The vehicle is low on fuel. I open the fuel slot on the board and enter an iron rank coin. The blinking light stops. I command the slot to disappear.

Now what? The parking lot is full of crafts like mine, but devoid of people. That makes sense. Where would you go, even if you belong to Stjepan’s species who ought to be able to operate these vehicles? Provided they would even move without adding a coin nobody has.

I, however, have coins. Yet that is a fact I don’t want to let people or authorities know. That means that I will move this craft only in emergency for now. That leaves Maria, Zora and the children. Sure, she sent me away, but can I really blame a woman for overreacting to being turned into a dragon? I need to leave them at least a few coins. Stjepan presumably can operate their cars and this island may become quite dangerous. People might riot. People always do stupid things. Besides camping in a magic car in a parking lot would be kind of silly given the circumstances.

First I need to check out the car. I put both hands on the orb and close my eyes. I understand the key mechanism now. And I am disappointed. The car claims that it cannot be entered into a standard unattuned storage space. And it cannot explain to me how to attune my arsenal. I command the car to make me four extra key rods.

And now it is time to do what I have been accused of having an inappropriate fondness for. I get my tricorder’s probe out. At that point I have a horrible thought. Scorpions practice external fertilisation.

All is well. The mast is still ready to be errected. In fact it is in an armoured compartment sheltered until it is needed. That is a gigantic relief. I put my pants back on.

The probe yields something interesting:

Xuronian crystal land craft (unbonded – iron rank)

A hovercraft for movement over land and shallow waterways with rudimentary habitability.

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Spirit coins of the item’s rank serve as fuel. Requires the ability to use magical tools to operate and configure. If bonded as a soul item it can be subsumed into the bondee’s skin respectively armour, serving as defensive garb if desired. A bonded craft can factultatively be run on the bondee’s mana supply.

Then a ritual is described. It would cost – a quick calculation – 42% of my iron rank coins.

Is this worth it? Yes. A truly mobile operating base is worth it. I may be forced to withdraw to an inhospitable part of the Earth. Armour is a welcome bonus.

I get out, do a quick equilization ritual and then pour out the complexest ritual I have ever done. Finally I put my lower left hand on the spot my tricorder has shown me. I am stung and instantly my tail with stinger extended hurls itself forward. I can barely stop myself from stinging my own car. I must have a defensive reflex. Good to know. My hand is bloody, but the ritual has been activated. I hope the glow attracts nobody.

I can sort of feel the connection. For the sake of experimentation I subsumed it into my dermal armour. I get very nice blue spiral patterns on my armoured segments. In fact I begin to like my new form. Is that a side effect of the transformation?

I go for the garb form. That costs a noticeable amount of mana. I am clad in a blue chainmail onesie. Can I make it fully vanish into my skin? Yes, no visible trace

. Well, can I get my craft back? That also works. Now what? Safety first. Chainmail it is.

This has cost me two hours. Some transformed people are on the street. This is odd. This town has about eight thousand people. The dome struck in the middle of the night, so most people should have been at home, but still. How large has the dome been? Has the whole island been affected? If not, where are the normals? Have they become vampire food?

A dragon is walking towards me. Zora. No, there is a second dragon in this town. He looks at me and turns away. Some people really dislike arthropods.

I should found a bug pride movement.

--

Two hours earlier:

Maria and Zora are sitting at the kichen table with an open, almost empty bottle of red wine between them.

M: Snap out of it. Yes, you are looking different. But you are still not fat or short-legged.

Z: I have a snout!

M: So what? Everybody says orcas are pretty and they also have a snout.

Z: Are you calling me a whale?

Both start snickering.

Z: Still I did it with a spider.

M: Well, no, you did it with somebody who became a spider after that. One might even say that you changed a man’s life.

Z: He is still ugly. To be precise, turned ugly again.

M: True. So in aggregate he has lost little.

This time they laugh out loud.

Z: So what do we do?

M: What can we do? You saw the roadblock. Your car does not work, either.

Z: I phoned my father. They got a room in a hostel for the night. The army has taken over the port.

M: How are we set up for food?

Z: Two days maybe. We have wine enough, though. Let’s see whether the shops are open tomorrow.

M: Will you call him? We may just need a wizard.

Z: So much for self-sufficient womanhood.

M: We need more witches. A toast to witches!

Z: Let’s get another bottle first. He can’t leave the island either.