The two advanced steadily into the scrapyard, their boots crunching with every step on the uneven metal ground. The sheer volume of scrap became clearer the deeper they went. Silas cast the white light of his cane across the area, revealing a massive mechanical graveyard; hills of shattered brass gears, others rusted and eroded by time, while some copper pieces shone as if untouched. Pipes twisted like dead snakes, massive broken steam engines, and punctured boilers lay scattered like lifeless corpses. There were entire sections of wrecked ships, as if the scrap of the whole world had been dumped in this forgotten place.
"Look, Elyra..." Silas said, sweeping the light over a huge engine, sarcasm evident in his voice. "Maybe we do need some help loading this scrap onto the ship, as our friend Moros suggested. Some of it looks like it would be actually useful for renovating my home decor."
Elyra shot him a sharp sidelong glance and didn't answer. She continued walking cautiously, hopping lightly to avoid tripping over a web of tangled pipes covering the ground.
They continued walking until progress became nearly impossible. The scrap piled up in front of them like high walls, forming a maze of rusty metal. The darkness was so pitch black that the dim light from Silas's cane was no longer enough to reveal the path for more than two meters. They stopped in front of a wall of interlocking gears.
"What now?" Elyra exhaled in frustration. "We can't go any further. I've bumped into enough of that filthy scrap, and my legs hurt."
Silas took two steps forward stubbornly, as if refusing to acknowledge the dead end, until he tripped over a protruding piece of metal and almost fell on his face had he not leaned on his cane. He straightened up, dusted off his coat, then called out loudly, his voice echoing among the metals: "Poggles! ... Poggles!"
No one responded. There was only the sound of the wind whistling through hollow pipes and the echo of his stumble.
Silas sighed and turned back: "We're going back to the ship, Elyra. We will cross this scrap with it. I won't stop even if I have to search every inch under these piles of rust." He strode past Elyra, heading back toward the beach with wide steps.
Elyra caught up with him, asking worriedly: "But you know the ship consumes a lot of fuel in that mode... and there is no energy source in a place like this. Where can we get it if we run out?"
Silas didn't answer her; he just kept walking, driven by a strange persistence. The ship, like all steam transport in this world, relied on burning fuel to heat water in the boiler, which in turn generated the steam pressure needed to drive the pistons and gears. The more complex the movement system, the more voraciously the ship devoured fuel.
They boarded the ship and entered the warm control room. Silas stood before the complex control panel. He didn't grab the helm this time; instead, he gripped a heavy red mechanical lever and pulled it back with force.
"Amphibious Mode... Activate."
The ship shook violently. The sound of screeching metal and roaring pressurized steam rose. From the sides of the ship, and from beneath the metal hull, plates split open, and four massive mechanical legs emerged—articulated and strong, resembling the legs of a spider or a giant crab. The ship lifted off the ground, and the gears began to move powerfully, driving thick steam from the side exhausts. It wasn't sailing; it was floating in the air, carried on those legs, walking over the piles of scrap and trampling them like a mighty living creature.
"I hope this is worth every drop of fuel we burn..." Elyra muttered, looking out the porthole, watching the ship step over hills of metal with ease.
Silas smiled, his eyes reflecting the glint of the gauges: "Trust me... it is worth it."
///
On the other side of the island, behind that massive gate that had piqued Silas and Elyra's curiosity, the situation was completely different. There was no screaming, no chaos. The facade of the place was an old, bleak factory, built as a solid metal block planted in the ground. Its walls were made of dark, corroded iron, covered by a random network of copper pipes wrapping around the building like bulging veins. Tall chimneys pierced the fog, puffing out pale blue steam continuously.
The sounds here were rhythmic and industrial; a regular, heavy metallic clanging, and intermittent steam whistles from vent valves.
Inside, in the heart of the factory, the air was heavy and saturated with the smell of oil and burning. A man stood wearing a ghostly outfit, but it wasn't white like the others. His outfit was pitch black, dull as if absorbing light, designed to take the shape of a raven with a cloak resembling folded wings. His face was completely hidden behind a black mask with sharp features and a short beak. He stood on a high platform, clearly prominent and dominant before the workers gathered in front of him, lined up in regular rows. The workers wore the ivory-white ghost outfits, silent and motionless.
"No rest today!" boomed the voice of the man in the black outfit, whom they called "The Supervisor." His voice was raspy and metallic, as if coming from a machine, not a human throat. "We have much to accomplish. You will work without stopping. We have received a new batch of raw fuel..." He pointed with a black-gloved hand toward the copper boxes the pirates had brought. "We will continue working all day to process it. Stick to your tasks, and when you finish... you will receive a reward."
The workers moved immediately as if they were one body, dispersing throughout the factory to return to their machines, while the Supervisor turned, his black cloak fluttering behind him, and left through a dark side door.
///
In the scrapyard, the ship had covered a long distance over the hills of metal. Silas stopped and pushed the control lever down. The mechanical legs bent slowly, and the ship knelt to the ground as if a huge beast sitting down to rest, its hull settling amidst a wide clearing of scrap.
Silas and Elyra went out to the deck. Silence wrapped the place again. Silas stood at the edge, cupped his hands around his mouth, and called out at the top of his lungs: "Poggles! ... Poggles! ... Poggles!"
The echo of his voice reverberated three times, then silence prevailed. He waited for moments, watching the darkness and rusty piles with dwindling hope. Nothing happened.
Elyra continued to look at him with pity mixed with doubt: "Silas... are you sure that..."
She was interrupted by a very faint sound. Meters away from them, amidst a group of randomly lined-up gears, a mechanical click sounded, followed by the scrape of metal on metal.
No one noticed it at first.
But suddenly, something small moved amidst the scrap. A small, agile shadow leaped from between the gears and landed on a high pipe. Silas quickly directed his cane's light toward the movement.
A small monkey appeared... no, it wasn't a real monkey. It was a mechanical lemur, its body made of copper and leather, its eyes glass lenses gleaming in the light, and its long tail made of flexible metal rings. The robotic monkey moved with curiosity and caution, responding to those voices that had called its name, staring at Silas and Elyra, and emitting a sound like intermittent electronic whistling.