The Pendelton Cruiser had climbed a cliff, crossed a raging river, and outrun the Royal Guard. But it couldn't outrun the laws of thermodynamics.
Ten miles past the canyon, deep in the twilight of the Osgard foothills, a red light flashed on the dashboard.
[WARNING: TURBINE OVERHEAT]
A high-pitched whistle began to emit from the hood. It wasn't the happy whistle of a tea kettle; it was the screaming whistle of metal expanding beyond its tolerance.
"We have to stop," Arthur announced, his eyes scanning the darkening road for a clearing. "The climb stressed the cooling loop. The radiator is saturated with heat. If we keep pushing, the alloy will warp."
"Great," Julian groaned from the back seat, his stomach rumbling loudly. "We live in the woods now. I am a noble. I have soft hands. Look at them! They are not made for twigs!"
"Stop whining." Vivian hopped out as soon as the car rolled to a stop in a secluded grove of pine trees. She stretched her legs, her leather armor creaking. "Zack, help me gather firewood. Julian, guard the perimeter. Arthur... fix the beast."
...
Two hours later, night had fallen completely. The air was cold, smelling of pine needles and damp earth.
The car sat cooling in the dark, its hood popped open like a yawning mouth. A small campfire crackled nearby, offering the only light for miles.
They sat around the fire, staring into the flames. They were exhausted. They were dirty. And they were starving.
"I found some berries," Zack offered, holding out a handful of small, purple fruit he had scavenged.
"Those are Nightshade," Arthur said without looking up from the engine block, where he was tightening a hose clamp. "They will stop your heart in three minutes. Do not eat them."
Zack dropped the berries instantly, wiping his hands on his robe.
"So we starve," Julian said, poking the fire with a stick. He looked miserable. "Arthur, tell me again why we are doing this. We just drove a car down a cliff. We are criminals. And for what?"
Julian looked up, his face illuminated by the dancing firelight.
"Back at the bridge... you said if we stopped, the 'world' would end. But in the basement, you said the pressure was in the Capital."
The group went quiet. It was the question that had been gnawing at them since they left the gates.
"If the Capital explodes," Julian pressed, his voice rising, "Why are we driving toward it? Why don't we drive West? We could go to the Iron Empire. We could live there. We could be safe."
Arthur wiped grease from his hands with a rag. He closed the hood of the car with a solid thud.
He walked over to the fire and sat on a log opposite Julian.
"Give me the stick," Arthur said.
Julian handed him the stick.
Arthur smoothed out a patch of dirt. He drew a circle.
"This is the Kingdom," Arthur said. He drew a dot in the center. "This is the Capital. The Pump."
He drew lines radiating out from the center, crossing the edge of the circle, extending far into the darkness of the dirt.
"The Ancients didn't just build a pump for us," Arthur explained, his voice low and steady. "They built a Global Grid. The Capital is the Heart. The ley lines are the veins."
Arthur slashed a line through the circle.
"If the Heart bursts, the pressure doesn't just vanish, Julian. It creates a vacuum."
He looked at his friends.
"The shockwave destroys the Kingdom. Yes. But then the veins go into shock. The flow reverses. It causes a chain reaction."
Arthur poked holes all over the map he had drawn—in the Empire, in the Elven lands, and in the Dwarven mountains.
"Every mage in the world connected to the grid would suffer mana-burn. Their blood would boil. Every magical beast would go insane. The crops would wither because the soil's mana would turn toxic. It wouldn't be a quick death by fire."
Arthur threw the stick into the flames.
"It would be a slow death by starvation and madness. There is no 'away,' Julian. The world is a closed system. We fix the pump, or the lights go out. Everywhere."
Julian stared at the map in the dirt. The arrogance was gone from his face. He looked young, scared, and very small.
"So..." Julian whispered. "We are saving the Empire too? And the Elves? And they don't even know it?"
"We are saving everyone," Vivian said softly, sharpening a stick with her dagger. She looked at Arthur with a strange intensity. "Even the idiots chasing us."
Arthur nodded. "That is the job of the Engineer. You keep the bridge standing so the people who hate you can cross it safely."
...
Later that night, the fire had burned down to embers.
Zack and Julian were asleep in the back of the Cruiser, the seats folded down to make a makeshift bed. Their snoring was synchronized.
Arthur sat on the hood of the car, watching the stars. He wasn't just stargazing; he was checking the Atherian Relays. Relay 5 was still blinking red.
"You're loud when you think."
Vivian climbed onto the hood next to him. She wrapped her arms around herself. It was a cold night, the temperature dropping near freezing, and her leather armor offered little insulation against the mountain air.
She shivered violently.
Arthur looked at her.
[Observation: Subject is shivering.] [Ambient Temperature: 4°C.] [Risk: Hypothermia affecting combat efficiency.]
Arthur took off his heavy engineer's coat. It was thick wool, lined with leather, stained with oil, coal dust, and the blue blood of the Thunder-Lizard. It weighed ten pounds.
He draped it over her shoulders.
"Thermal insulation," Arthur stated, looking back at the sky. "Efficiency requires you to stay warm so you can fight tomorrow."
Vivian pulled the coat tight. She buried her nose in the collar. "It smells like grease."
"It smells like progress," Arthur corrected.
Vivian laughed—a soft sound that seemed too bright for the dark woods. She leaned her head on his shoulder.
"You know, Arthur... everyone at school calls you a machine. The 'Blueprint Prince.' Cold. Calculating."
"They are not wrong," Arthur said defensively. "Emotions introduce variables. Variables cause errors."
"No," Vivian looked up at him. Her eyes reflected the starlight. "You act like you don't care. You act like it's all math. But you built a tank to save your friends. You gave me your coat."
She poked him in the chest.
"You have a heart, Arthur. Even if you try to hide it behind a boiler."
Arthur felt his own heart rate spike.
[Warning: Heart Rate 120 BPM.] [Cause: Unknown. Possible caffeine withdrawal?]
"I am simply protecting my assets," Arthur mumbled, looking away to hide the flush on his cheeks. "You are the Tank. If the Tank freezes, the party wipes."
Vivian smiled, closing her eyes. She leaned her weight against him, warm and solid.
"Sure. Whatever you say, Admin."
They sat there in silence for a long time. The only sounds were the wind in the trees, the cooling tick-tick-tick of the engine, and the quiet breathing of two teenagers holding up the weight of the world.
For a moment, there was no countdown. No exploding capital. No angry golems. Just the stars, the cold, and the coat.
"Arthur?" Vivian whispered, half-asleep.
"Yes?"
"When we save the world... can we get a burger? A real one?"
Arthur smiled—a genuine, small smile that didn't involve a schematic.
"I'll build you a grill," Arthur promised. "We'll make the best burger in history."
"Good," Vivian murmured. "Good night, Art."
She fell asleep on his shoulder. Arthur didn't move. He sat perfectly still for four hours, letting his arm go numb, calculating the trajectory of the satellites above, and thinking that maybe, just maybe, variables weren't so bad after all.
End of Chapter 39