Chapter 7

Errands

. . .

8am - 64 hours to deadline expires…

The raindrops drummed onto the window, that was made by several diamond-shaped glass pieces. The many drops that fell from the sky trailed down the other side of the window and left reflections on the desk beneath. In fact, Jim could just change the depressing picture of the gloomy reality outside, but he actually liked the rain and the sound of the drops hitting the glass. It was relaxing throughout his intense work with his solar surfer.

Having the damaged machine lay on his worktable, the young boy skillfully (and with lots of patience), fixed each and every broken part of the board.

The little shapeshifter watched curiously from over his shoulder, while the boy welded the broken engine back on place. Sparks flew around the room like glowing fireflies, only to die out when they had reached a certain distance.

Jim turned off the old welder machine when the engine again were attached to the back of the board. He flipped up the shade on the mask he had on, to get a better view of the result, letting the helmet stay on his head. "Now will you look at that," he said with a proud smile, while he looked over the solar surfer on his worktable. "Not half bad, huh?" he asked and let the hand with the thick, fireproof glove, brush over the surface of the new repaired board, breathing in the smell of hot metal.

"Not half bad," Morph replayed with his high-pitched voice and wagged his little tail like a happy dog.

Jim took off the welder mask and the gloves, and let it lay on the table. He pushed himself off and let the small chair he sat on, roll across the room to another worktable by the other wall. With the worn welding apron wrapped around his slender waist and neck, he pushed a few papers aside on this table, as he could get through to the worksheet he needed.

The wall, the table stood against, was filled up with overwritten papers, sketches, colorful notes, and a few pictures and posters, all pasted on the wall with needles or tape. Not a naked space was left to be seen. Old books filled with facts or fictive adventures, gearwheels and tools of any kind and a dusty globe filled the table, along with prototypes of tiny robots and machines. To be exact, the table were a mess. However, the young boy with the chestnut brown hair, somehow managed to work at his table anyway.

When Jim finally found the worksheet he searched for, he grabbed a tiny pencil in the mess of stacked and crumbled papers, and began to draw a few lines on the already overwritten worksheet. This worksheet was (as many others in the room), made by himself for one of his countless inventions and machines. Of cause this one was for his solar surfer, but that was just one of his homemade mechanisms. If anything was out of function in the house, Jim would be there to fix it. Of cause it often ended up with him fixing the same thing several times a month, since he most of the time was in lag of materials. But he did his best with what he had. In fact, he sometimes even fixed things for other citizens in Benbow, since his mother couldn't help but tell the inn's guests how smart he was. Of cause the sentence 'he looks a lot like his father at that point' wasn't quite unavoidable in these cases, but it was definitely not a sentence Jim appreciated to hear. He would rather never hear it spoken again.

When the young man were done erasing and redraw the lines on the worksheet of his homemade solar surfer, he let the pencil dump back into the cup with writing materials, before he bent over to go find something in one of the boxes underneath the table. The boxes were filled with lots of odd stuff and junk, but he managed to find what he needed anyways.

Jim pulled out a piece of solar sail, that like anything else he had ever used in that direction, was made by a lot of patches that were sewed together. Sitting back up on the backless chair, he blew the dust off the sail with his mouth before he pushed himself off again, letting the chair roll back to the first worktable by the window.

Laying the new sail aside on the table, Jim grabbed hold of the wing on the side of the board to stretch it out and see how bad it was damaged. He sighted when he saw the large ripped holes in the sail and let the wing fold back in. "Wrench, please," he said and held his hand out, having Morph turn into a wrench that he could use. "Thank you, bud," Jim said and used the little shapeshifter to turn the thick screw that held the sail folded, making the wing fold out slowly and stay out. When the wing was fully unfurled, the boy let the blob go free.

Carefully, Jim unbuttoned the ripped sail from the skeleton of the wing and pulled it off before he replaced it with the new one. With that, he got the wing screwed back on place and stood up. "Alright let's see if this worked out," Jim said and pulled the lever on the board, slowly unfolding and folding the wings on the sides, to make sure everything worked, as it should.

The young man let a satisfied smile spread across his lips when the wings effortlessly moved in and out from the board. "Well it seems like that was a success. What do you think?" He asked and looked back at Morph. The little blob just smiled wide and wagged his little tale, which made Jim chuckle a little.

"And look at that," Jim said and placed his hands on his hips when the rain outside slowly stopped, only leaving a few drops falling from the roof. "Seems like it's finally clearing up. What a coincidence," the boy smiled when a few sunbeams made their way through the layer of clouds. He loved the time right after a lot of rain. Everything seemed so fresh and peaceful in those moments. It always made him question if life on Montressor actually were that bad, as he sometimes deluded himself.

"What do you say Morph? Should we go test the new wings in the canyons again today?" Jim asked without moving his eyes from the window. However, when Morph let out a few unsatisfied chatters along with turning into a tiny version of Sarah, Jim couldn't help but chuckle. "Calm down, I was just joking," the boy said and waved his hand in the air as his fingers slipped through the floating creature, making Morph turn back into his own pink self. "I know we have errands to run in the city today," Jim said and untangled the welder apron from around his waist, as he could pull it over his head.

Even though he had been in the city to run errands just the day before, he still had a few things left on the list that he missed to get. And with the unexpected cloudburst that had shrouded the entire area in water the afternoon and the morning through, he hadn't really been in the mood to leave the house until now. At least his solar surfer was fixed enough for him to avoid walking through the streets this time. Not that he was lazy - he actually found walking rather relaxing, but on his board, it was quicker done.

With his jacket thrown over his shoulder, Jim handed up in his board and walked out towards the stairs.

. . .

"Where are you going?" Clara asked and crossed her arms with a questioning look.

"I'm going out," Angie simply answered and zipped the shoulder bag closed before she pulled the strap over her head, letting the bag hang against her hip. "See you for dinner," she said and prepared to walk off.

"Woh, woh, woh, hold it there shorty," Clara said and laid her scaled hands on Angie's shoulders to stop her from passing her. "Exactly where is out?" the alien girl asked and crossed her arms, when Angie had shaken off her hands from her shoulder with an annoyed motion.

"I'm just going out for a bit. You guys don't need to know everything, you know," Angie said with a small huff and glared up at Clara. She hated when she got in that 'mother-like' state. No way, Angie would let Clara decide weather or not she was going out and where.

"Oh now I get it," Clara said as she raised her chin a little, though she already practically towered above the redhead. "It's a secret. You don't want me to know what you're doing because you're afraid that I will tell Dustin, that you're sneaking out without permission, isn't that right?" she asked with a slight smirk, now leaning forward to get down to Angie's level more. Angie hated when people did that. Nothing was more condescending. It made her feel like they thought of her as a child.

"What? No! I'm not 'sneaking out'," Angie snapped and slammed her shoulder into Clara's when she passed her in annoyance. "For your information, I'm actually going out on an assigned mission, all on my own," she said with a proud smirk as she turned around to face Clara, now standing tall and straight. At that time she actually felt pretty important, and wanted to show Clara how wrong she was.

"Oh yeah?" Clara asked and turned around to face Angie. "And what is this assigned mission about, then?" she asked with her arms crossed.

"I can't tell you," Angie said and shook her head with her chin raised. "It's a confidential mission. Dustin assigned it for me, personally," she said.

"Uh-huh?" Clara nodded her head slowly, but didn't really seem to be convinced. "And it has absolutely nothing to do with. This?" she smirked and quickly snatched the list out of Angie's pocket, almost effortlessly, now waving it teasingly in front of the redheat with a scornful grin.

Angie's eyes widen when her paper was snatched right out of her pocket. "Hey! Give that back!" She ordered and tried to grab the paper, but Clara just held it up in the air with her arm stretched, making it impossible for Angie to reach it. At that time, she really damned her tiny size.

"Ah, ah, not that fast," Clara teased and pushed her away, receiving an annoyed groan from Angie by that. "What is this even? Cables, power reactor, oxygen cylinders?" Clara asked and looked over the list with a thoughtful frown.

"I said it's confidential, now give it back!" Angie snapped and quickly snatched the paper out of Clara's hands, tossing it back into her pocket.

Clara let out a quite gasp when she realized what was going on. "No you didn't," she said surprised.

"No I didn't what?" Angie said with a flippant tone and rolled her eyes. She had, had enough of all those 'guessing games'.

"You asked Dustin to give you an assignment so you could proof to him, that you where worth having with on the more important missions, didn't you?" Clara asked with a scornful tone and grin.

Angie frowned offended and balled her hands into fists. "So what if I did?! At least I do something to try and get a higher rank in this miserable hierarchy!" She snapped and threw her arms to the side. She had, had enough of all that fighting. She knew that she was ready for a better place in the gang and here was her chance to get it! Why couldn't Clara just back her up in that?

"Going to the boss and requesting an assignment is not quite a respected 'try'. It's low, that's what it is," Clara said, now with a dead serious voice as she crossed her arms over her chest.

That comment came like an iron ball in the stomach and made Angie's eyes glow red of rage. If it wasn't because Clara was her partner in crime, she would have beat the snot out of her immediately. And Gods she wanted to do that badly at that moment. However, with the help of multiple deep breaths and a tight grip around her own thumps, she managed to keep it all inside.

"Well. Excuse me while I go 'sink low' and actually contribute to this group of maniacs and boneheads, that I manifestly is caught in," she huffed frustrated before she turned on her heal and walked outside, slamming the door behind her, as the rest of the port trembled afterwards.

Clara watched her walk out, but kept a slight smirk on her lips. When Angie had slammed the door, the alien girl simply sighted before she began to count on her fingers. "Three, two, one…"

As soon as she had finished counting down, a loud yell and crash was heard, followed by dust and smoldered bricks, shooting into the room. Clara just stood her ground, only turning her head to look at the hole in the wall, where their container now so classily was parked. Just another result of one of Angie's angry outbursts.

Clara sighted. "Anthony?" she called out with a raised voice, not letting her eyes leave the now dusty container in the wall. "Bring me the duct tape…"

. . .