It took several hours for Ashadh to recover from our close call, but recover he did, finally curling up in the nest amidst his siblings and falling into a much-needed sleep. Later, Stefan and I sat around the table and discussed what had occurred. Several of the guys kibitzed, much to Stefan's annoyance. "I really don't get it," I continued. "From what I've figured out about the sphere, you have to be able to accurately hold the image of your destination in your head for its transport mechanism to work. If you've never been there, or you don't get the details right, nothing happens. How in the hell did we end up in that-- that place?"
Stefan frowned for a long moment, finally gestured bafflement. Then Fields spoke up. "Maybe it's some sort of default destination. Maybe when you grab the ball or whatever it is and just think go, that's where you end up." Stefan gave the Special Ops man a quelling glance, but Fields continued. "Sorry Stefan, but don't you think it makes sense? If you're up to your ass in alligators and you need to get out of somewhere right now, you might not have time to think up some nice picture of where you want to go. So, an emergency exit."
That glance had become a glare, but everybody ignored Dithra's agent as I scratched the tip of my lower jaw, my talons making a grating noise against my scales as I thought. "An emergency exit," I echoed. "You're right; it does make sense, if only from a military or intelligence standpoint. . . . Stefan, did the Lung think that way? Along the lines of rigging escape routes for themselves?"
Stefan grimaced, then once again signaled ignorance. "I'm sorry, my Lord, but I have no idea. I will say, however, that the Lung were extremely secretive in their ways, so perhaps something like this would not be too unlikely."
Spoken like a true spook. I gave Stefan a wry look, then went on. "All right, so what would be the most likely destination for such an escape hatch? A safe house? A regional center?"
"HQ." I again looked up at Fields, and he shrugged. "Why not? The way you describe it, that ball of yours can take you anywhere in the blink of an eye, so why waste your time with safe houses and stuff? Just go right back home."
"Headquarters," I mused. "Makes sense, but security-- no, everyone I've asked tells me only the Lung can use this thing." I held up the object in question. It glowed softly, vague streamers of various colors seeming to ripple and weave just beneath the surface, seemingly oblivious to being the center of attention.
"Its touch is death for all, but those possessing the blood of the Lung, yes, my Lord," Stefan reaffirmed. "This is a known fact. Many dragons have tried to control a sphere of the Lung, to make its power their own. All have died."
"Well, that takes care of perimeter security," I grunted, "you just might've seized the prey-- hit the nail on the head, Fields." Jeez; I need some two-legged time. . . . "But, it strikes me that it's a rather soggy sanctuary, at best."
"Drainage? Maybe the water table rose." This from Deebs. "If nobody's been home for awhile, could be something broke and there wasn't anyone to fix it. Hell, maybe somebody left the water running in the bathtub."
We all chuckled at that, myself included. "Well, whatever the place is, there's another sphere of the Lung there, so I'm afraid we're going to have to take a look around, and secure that sphere at the very least." I fell silent for a moment, thinking. "Deebs, that workshop you've set up in the barn, does it have an oxy-acetylene rig?"
Deebs blinked. "Um, yeah, but--"
"Good. I'd like to borrow the oxygen cylinder, and that old plastic water tank out back, if we can saw one end of it off. . . ."
Deebs made a slow-down gesture with his hands. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Are you talkin' of makin' some weird kind of scuba rig?"
I shrugged elaborately. "Well I certainly can't wear a human rig, not and control a sphere at the same time. Besides, there was a lot of what looked to be some sort of carvings on those pillars. Could be they might be able to tell me something about how to use this." Again, I hefted the sphere, then left it there, parked in midair. Stefan shifted uneasily, doubtlessly at its nearness to him. "Damn; I really wish this thing came with an instruction manual. . . ."
"You try hittin' the F1 key?"
I froze, then slowly lifted my eyes to peer at Grease. "Do what!?"
"Hit the F1 key. You know, like on a PC, when you're playin' a game and you get stuck and want to pop up the help window. . . ." He squirmed a bit, his smile fading under the combined stares of both human and inhuman eyes. "Hey look, it was just a joke, okay?"
"The F1 key," I murmured, my eyes going out of focus. . . .
. . . .I stood there, staring at her tensely coiled form, my mind searching for a solution. Suddenly it came to me, and I immediately knew it came from some outside source, for it contained things that I had not thought possible, never conceived of before. . . .
I blinked, then blinked again. Finally I groaned and dropped my head to the table with a loud thud, my eyes tightly shut. "Stefan?"
". . . .Yes, my Lord?"
"I am an idiot."
". . . .My Lord?"
I drew in a deep breath, fought the urge to flame the whole damned room, finally let the air out in a huge sigh. "Never mind; it's just something else I need to look into. . . ." I trailed off, turning my head to look out the front window. The sky had gone from a dazzling blue to a featureless gray, and my dragon senses brought to me an unmistakable scent. Yet another winter storm was coming, probably sometime tonight. "Well, it's getting a little late to mess with that tank today, plus it looks like we're going to get some more snow. We can wait till tomorrow on this." Slowly I rose to all-fours, allowed myself the luxury of a long, hard stretch, then gave the throw-rug I'd recently placed in front of the stove a fond look. "Whose turn is it to cook dinner?"
"Ah, yours, my Lord."
Well, hell. . . .