The helmet instructed me to walk with good stride through the grand entrance. I don’t think lingering was a good look, as seasoned Birds brisked by with a thousand years it seemed of experience frequenting this holy premises. I followed suit.

Inside was infinite. Imagine limitless aisles spanning to a point, lined with shelves that elevated to the heavens and disappeared into thinner, cloudy atmosphere. To call it an “Equipment Room,” did not do the vast expanse justice. My helmet guided me toward the highest priority items.

Our first stop was the megalithic stone alter department. We needed one of those to a afix at the epicenter of my Drop. It provided the very bedrock of my own realm and would sit circular at the center of my meditation space. It would ensure controlled leaps, as I sat atop its ancient piezoelectric stones. The front of the altar stretched many feet into the sky, and water fell down from the top cliff into a mote that encircled my stone meditation space and zen garden. The water itself was healing, if I held an injured body part under its falls. Plus, the sound of water falling provided the utmost tranquility. The helmet suggested a quaint 300-ton unit, already with running water, and we levitated its entirety into our storage halo and whisked to the next aisle impossible light years away.

We arrived in an instant, to the backdoor aisle. Back doors in any Drop held paramount importance. Should a nefarious character find their way into your sacred fortress of solitude, the back door was the only way out. This extra-dimensional failsafe provided the necessary portal into a randomized flow of the movierain. And once one exited an entity out their back door, the persona non grata could not retrace the steps back to its origin, under the sweet veil of randomness. My helmet informed me one of these was of absolute importance for heavier, deeper dives into the Mutliverse. Who knew what we’d encounter? I picked a door that carried with it all the charm of some suburban rear exitway on a cul de sac. Little did its passengers know that their destination would be far-flung from some peaceful back yard.

The helmet and I were satisfied with our haul in the halo and quickly departed, for a second time, from the sacred Thunderbird Equipment Room. We exited the large, marble gates and were back in the Drop momentarily, where we deposited our gear—the hefty and holy stone altar and perfectly randomized back door to the unknown. Our equipment would bring leaping to a whole new level.

I couldn’t wait to show Kitty how I had outfitted our Drop. It was much larger now and taking shape.

That night, I leapt into her ship quarters while everyone slept. I startled her awake.

“How– How’d you get out of the brig??” she sleepily probed, her eyes still closed. “I’m so glad to see you! I missed you, but if the Captain finds out we’ve been speaking, I could face a similar fate.”

“I know. I know,” I said. “I missed you too. Listen, I’ve found a way to leap without the ship. I want you to be my tether, as we surf the outskirts, but we gotta clear it with Captain.”

“I’m so curious as to how you’ve pulled this off. I don’t see how you could ever convince the Captain to free you; Sully’s still struggling to pilot the Cheshire. It’s really set us back, in fact. You may be able to freely leap dimensions, but changing the Captain’s mind is an altogether different quandary… but if I can be of help, I will.”

“Thank you, thank you,” I whispered. “I’ve thought about it. I need to prove my worth among the crew. This is what I’m thinking…”

“Also…” Kitty now sat up a little more awake, clearing her eyes. “Are you older now??”

***

NEXT UP: Bill devises a way to get back in good with the crew. It’s the only way he can prove his worth to Cap.

***