I shivered so violently on the floor the following morning that I thought I’d never be warm again. The floodwater subsided as the storm died down, but I was still soaking wet. My shoulder and back ached. I had a headache. There was no point in waking Dad until the storm was over. My ears perked when I heard something that sounded like scratching.

  “What’s that noise?” I said.

  Dad didn’t say anything. I heard rustling and heavy footsteps. I heard shifting debris and rubble. It sounded like someone was rummaging through our stuff. Pirates? Looters? A monster hunting for someone to eat? Could Mom have come back to save us?

  White light stung my eyes when I pulled Dad’s jacket away from the gap between the floor and the cupboard. I sniffed the air blowing through the gap.

  “Son?” I heard someone say. “Burgeon? Are you here?”

  “Grandpa?”

  “Burgeon?”

  “Grandpa! We’re down here!”

  I slipped my fingers into the gap and stood in a low squatting position. Then, I lifted with everything I had, but the cupboard didn’t budge.

  “Burgeon? Is that you?”

  “Help, Grandpa! We’re under the cupboard!”

  Junk shifted, clunked, and crashed on top of us. The cupboard began to crack and shake, then was lifted up by two mechanisms.

  “There you are!” Grandpa said triumphantly.

  Dad and Grandpa looked very much alike, though Grandpa had gray streaks in his brown, spotted fur.

  “That was the worst recastorm in two hundred years,” Grandpa said. “The resisters failed on this side of the trench.”

  “It was awful,” I said.

  “Well, thank goodness you’re both okay.”

  Dad lay in a ball, trembling on the floor.

  “Toss that thing away,” Grandpa said.

  The mechanisms threw what remained of the cupboard to the side with a crash.

  “Dad?” I said.

  He was gray, and older than Grandpa.

  “Can you walk?” Grandpa said.

  Dad tried to stand, but his legs were too shaky and weak.

  “Dad?” I said fearfully.

  “It’s okay,” Grandpa said, gesturing to his mechanisms with his paw. “We’ll have to carry him out.”

  One of the mechanisms picked up Dad and carried him out the door, which was strewn about in metal shards as though it were made of glass. I turned around to get a look at the damage. Nothing was left but a hole in the wall. Our belongings were destroyed, not that we’d have wanted to keep any of those things. Our mechanism was slumped over a heap of rubble in the corner. Parts of his metal anatomy had been changed to wood. His gears had been liquefied and oozed out of a hole in his back.

  “This mechanism is unsalvageable,” one of Grandpa’s mechanisms said.

  “Just leave it,” Grandpa said. “We have to go.”

  The mechanism lit the hall as we walked to where the old elevator shaft had been.

  “It’s broken, Grandpa. We have to take the garbage chute to get out.”

  “Oh,” Grandpa laughed. “I think we’ll manage.”

  The mechanism pried open the hatch. White light filled the shaft from above.

  “You first,” Grandpa said to the mechanism carrying Dad, and he stepped into the shaft and was drawn up toward the light. “You next, Burgeon.”

  I walked up cautiously and looked down the shaft at the black bottom where the light couldn’t reach.

  “Just step into the light,” Grandpa said, pushing me with his snout.

  As soon as I fell into the shaft, I was weightless and drawn toward the light. I went up and out through a hole at the top, floating through the open dark expanse for several moments before I saw a shape in the smoke. The shape resembled a large book, hovering face down, weightless and silent. It was Grandpa’s ship—a ninety-cubit-long levitation vessel with a white steel hull. Retreat was printed on a brass nameplate, illuminated by the light of a single lamp.

  “Landing was too dangerous,” Grandpa said, floating past me. “We had to repel through the elevator shaft.

  A mechanism stood inside the ship, holding out her metal hand as she levitated us through the open ramp on the ship’s underbelly and set us down in the cargo hold. Three more mechanisms loaded push-pegs into the capstan, pushed the gear, drawing the hatch closed, and securing it with the locking lever. The ship bobbed and rocked in levitational drift, making me stumble before I found my legs. Lanterns swayed from mounting brackets. Overhead cams and gears cranked as the ship took off. The ring of the deck bell resonated through the corridors. The cedar-chip smell of wood-fired furnaces hung in the air, mingled withe the smell of fish clinging to riggings and tackle mounted on the bulkheads. Occupying the cargo hold were five-hundred-pythagorish-gallon glass tanks brimming with scaly, bulbous-eyed critters. Grandma trotted down the corridor.

  “I’ll be darned,” she gasped. “Are you two okay?”

  “They’ll be fine,” Grandpa said. “The effects of the recastorm should wear off soon.”

  “Get them some blankets,” Grandma said.

  A mechanism pulled two thick wool blankets out of a trunk and wrapped them around Dad and me.

  “I’d better get up to the helm,” Grandpa said.

  “Can I come?” I said.

  “Say what?” Grandpa said.

  I cleared my throat.

  “Permission to accompany you to the helm, Skipper?”

  “That’s better,” Grandpa said with a wide grin. “Granted!”

  I tossed off the blanket and skipped down the round wooden corridor, pushing Dad to the back of my mind. I came to the spiraling ladder at the back of the ship, walked up the steps, slid the hatch open, and stepped onto the bridge. The bridge was an elevated tower on the ship’s aft end. Its tall, thin portholes gave me an all-around view of the smoky sky around the rectangular hull. The bridge had four red leather seats. Between the chairs was an elevated console with a crystal ball in the center of several small levers. In front of the dual steering columns was a set of gauges. A mechanism sat in the copilot’s chair. Grandpa hopped into the pilot’s chair. I sat in the chair behind the copilot’s seat, and the holdfast sucked me in snugly.

  “We may need to take evasive action,” Grandpa said. “Sound the general quarters.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Aye, sir,” the mechanism said, grabbing one of the levers on the console and ringing a deck bell.

  I heard the stamping of metal feet as mechanisms ran down the corridors to their battle stations. Grandpa grabbed the throttle on the console between the pilot and copilot’s chairs and drew back firmly. The ship rocketed forward. The wind roared over the hull. Pixy dust spilled from the aft chimney, leaving a sparkling wake behind us. We shot through the smoke and merged onto the skyway, jetting down a long line of glowing buoys on our port side. The buoys appeared as a line of light running along the ship’s side.

  “Why would we need to take persuasive action, Grandpa?”

  “Evasive action.”

  “Oh.”

  “Because this side of the trench is a pirate port now. We need to get to the deactualization point before we’re boarded.”

  “Deactualization?” I said. “We’re going to another realm?”

  “Yep.”

  “What realm are we going to?”

  “You’ll see,” Grandpa said.

  Excitement filled me up and started spilling over in my mind. Other than Sleeping Locus, it was the first time I’d ever traveled to another realm. I would have screamed if it hadn’t been improper behavior on the bridge.

  “I’m detecting a strange ambiance on the trench floor,” the copilot said.

  “Let me hear it,” Grandpa said.

  “Gaze into the orbucullum,” the mechanism said, pointing at the crystal ball on the center console. “All the mechanisms down there are incapacitated, so there’s no picture available.”

  A light flashed, drawing my attention to the crystal ball, hovering above the console next to me. We could hear the low roar of shouting crowds. Grandpa pressed down on a small valve and spoke into the voice pipe next to the helm.

  “Arm ballista number one.”

  “Ready to hex–if need be,” the voice pipe cracked a moment later.

  As we passed out of the dark zone, the smokey sky cleared, and I could see the trench floor below. I dug the spyglass from the drawer under my seat and held it to the window. Hordes of masked creatures were marauding and running about, yanking canids from their homes by the scruff of their necks and doing things I still cannot talk about.

  “There are two ships inbound our lane, Skipper,” the mechanism said. “Two points off the starboard bow.”

  “What make and model?” Grandpa said.

  “They’re trash skiffs, but no mechanisms are on board.”

  The mechanism pointed at the crystal ball, and the apparitions of two floating platforms appeared with black flags bearing the symbol of a white X. Their vessels were rusted and filthy, with heaps of garbage and creatures hanging off the sides waving metal rods in the air.

  “They’re hailing us,” the mechanism said. “And trying to cut us off.”

  “I know what they want,” Grandpa said.

  “What do they want?” I said.

  “To do what pirates do: Take what doesn’t belong to them.”

  “We’re surrendering?” I said.

  Grandpa looked at me adoringly.

  “Don’t be afraid, Burgeon.”

  Grandpa yanked back on the throttle. The ship lurched forward in a fury, sucking me back into my seat. The wood decks and bulkheads creaked, snapped, and groaned. My ears were over my head. My throat went dry. My guts loose. I couldn’t breathe. The Retreat went inverted and shot between the pirate ships. I looked back to see them turn and come after us. A shadow passed over us as we flew under two enormous frigates.

  “The armada is here,” Grandpa said. “They’ll take care of the pirates.”

  A tractor beam on a frigate’s sharp nose grabbed the pirate ships and drew them into its open maw. I could see the pyramid spire through my window. The grounds were peaceful and calm as any other day.

  “Nobody’s looting the temple?” I said.

  “What would pirates want with a bunch of books?” Grandpa said.

  “We’ve reached the deactualization point,” the mechanism said.

  “Set a positive affirmation and change us to Hue’s Spectrum.”

  “We’re going to Hue’s Spectrum?” I said.

  “They love our fish there.”

  The Loyal Trench changed to mist, which took the shape of a thoroughfare as though we were flying through a tunnel of clouds toward a white light. Behind us was darkness. There was no creaking in the corridors, no roaring wind on the hull, no ringing bell, no cranking gears, only silence.

  “Grandpa?”

  “Yes?”

  “Why didn’t we just hex the pirates?”

  A concerned look filled Grandpa’s face.

  “We’re allowed to curse pirates, right?” I said. “Why risk outmaneuvering them? We could have crashed.”

  “Just because you can curse someone doesn’t mean you should. Life is precious. Everyone deserves the chance to become goodly creatures.”

  I nodded as though I understood what he was saying, but I didn’t understand. Why bother preserving life that has no quality? Kill it, and put it out of its misery.

  “Have you ever been boarded by pirates before?” I said.

  Grandpa turned his chair and looked out the window.

  “Yes,” he said. “When I was a pup about your age.”

  My ears perked.

  “Dad never said anything about that.”

  “It’s not easy to talk about. Our realm has had pirate problems for a long time. Your great-grandpa, my dad, had a lot of trouble coping after that day. We emerged safely from the ordeal, thank goodness, but it haunted him for the rest of his life.”

  “Burgeon,” Dad said, walking through the hatch. He already appeared less haggard. “Go down to the cabin, please.”

  “But I want to see Hue’s Spectrum!”

  “It’ll be a while before we actualize,” Grandpa said. “And besides, there’s a surprise for you down there.”

  “Is it my Mom?” I said.

  Grandpa’s expression soured. I always thought he didn’t like her very much.

  “Go on and see for yourself,” he said.

  I leaped out of my chair and skipped down the spiral ladder. Mechanisms were sitting crosslegged, meditating along the bulkheads. I didn’t like being in the cargo hold by myself. It was too quiet and dark down there. The ugly fishes inside the tanks sent creeps up my spine.

  The sound of tapping caught my attention. One of the mechanisms must have been working on something in the machine room. I peeked through the dark hatch to check it out. Tap-tap-tap, I heard again, but there was nobody there. Just the core–three massive round iron tanks mounted on iron brackets. Tap-tap-tap, I heard again, coming from inside the tank. I approached carefully. Dad always warned me never to go into the machine room by myself. I walked up and pressed my ear against the core tank. Tap-tap-tap. Strange, I’d never heard it do that before. It seemed like there was someone inside. I knocked, dong-dong-dong, and listened carefully.

  Bang! I screamed and fell back away from the tank, then struggled to my feet and shot out of the machine room, molting a trail of feathers as I tore down the corridor. A single lamp lit the cabin door down the passage. I tripped and fell, got up, slid the hatch open, and burst into the cabin.

  “Hey!” they all cheered, wagging their tails.

  Light rained over my canid family from the overhead portholes. The hearth warmed the room. Grandma reared up on her back two and drew me close with her paws. I could smell the love in her squeeze.

  “So glad you guys made it out safe and sound,” my Aunt said.

  Grandma let me go. My Aunt reared up and gave me a big, wet kiss on the cheek.

  “Eew!” my Uncle laughed, and everyone else laughed too.

  After I said my hellos and gave my hugs, we all hopped into the chairs at the table. A mechanism served me a bowl of steaming stew with butter-rich broth. Grandpa came in and jumped into the chair next to mine.

  “We got you something,” he said, and the mechanism set a box wrapped in gold paper on the table in front of me.

  “Happy birthday, Burgeon,” everyone said.

  “What is it?” I said.

  “Open it,” my Cousin said.

  I scratched the paper open, revealing a wooden box. I fingered the latch and opened it. Inside was a silver compass.

  “Pick it up and have a look,” my Uncle said.

  I took it out of the box. The silver shell had ornate little engravings.

  “You’re a voyager now,” Grandpa said. “And every voyager needs a compass.”

  I touched the clasp, and the face popped open. Inside was a glass orb with three rings, like the rings of a planet. One of the rings showed galactic true center. One of the rings displayed time. But one of the rings had strange, glowing blue symbols I could not read.

  “What do these symbols mean?” I said.

  “We’re not sure,” Grandma said. “We picked up that compass in Poughkeepsy Relics. It’s very old.”

  “Finding out what they mean will be a fun little project,” my Aunt said.

  After all that trouble with Mom, I almost forgot we had a family. It never occurred to me that they would save us. Then the deck bell rang.

  “All hands prepare to actualize,” Grandpa said.

  I followed Grandpa and Dad to the bridge. We hopped into our seats. The thoroughfare dissipated and took the shape of a rainbow arching beneath us, stretching forever through a clouded sky. We approached the rainbow, and I could see that each colored stripe was a long, monochrome landscape.

  “Amazing,” I gasped, my ears low and eyes wide. “How is this possible?”

  “When the mechanisms meditate, they change the ship to another version of the cosmos.”

  I heard this said at the temple many times but didn’t understand what it meant until now.

  “How many realms are there, Grandpa?”

  “There are countless realms in the Infinite Beyonds.”

  “Grandpa and I are going to sell the catch when we land,” Dad said. “Go on down to the cabin and get ready for bed. We’ll be home by morning.”

  “What?” I said. “You’ve got to let me come, please! I have to see this!”

  “It’ll be way past your bedtime before we reach Port Irys,” Dad said.

  “Past my bedtime?” I said, pointing at the chronometer on the dashboard. “It’s morning here.”

  “Morning here,” Grandpa said. “But the light is already fading back home. Besides, there’s no way you could come anyway. I don’t have a mask that would fit you.”

  “Do I really need a mask?”

  “You won’t exist outside the ship unless you wear one.”

  “Oh,” I said, searching for a retort.

  “The mechanism’s meditation changes the ship’s vibrations, but you’re still a creature of the Loyal Trench.”

  “Down you go,” Dad said, ruffling the fur on my head with his paw. “Good night.”

  My tail and wings dragged on the deck as I meandered back to the cabin. Grandma and Aunt Doaty washed and tucked me in, sliding my compass under my pillow. My cousins were already snoozing in the racks above and below me. How could I have been expected to sleep after what I’d just seen? Maybe I could stay awake until the ship made berth, then sneak off? But then I remembered what Grandpa said about masks.

  Though my mind raced, it had been a long day. The hearth snapped in the cabin. The lamplight was dim. My blankets were warm. The slight rocking of the ship pacified me to sleep.

  ***

  Would you explore the rainbow-shaped planet or stay on board the ship? Let us know in the comments!