It was almost a week before the ship was fully repaired, and ready for takeoff as soon as everyone was aboard. The rockets and engines were restored, the guidance systems were functioning perfectly, the inside was perfectly designed to hold air and had a (limited) running water system that would last at least long enough for this journey (thankfully a lot shorter than it would have been, since the power to navigate the wormhole to Dimension 52 had been restored). Fiddleford had even made repairs to the weapons systems, and drawn up blueprints for improved ones if they ever found the right materials to make them.
Fiddleford realized too late his mistake, as they boarded the ship and began preparing for takeoff: he'd finished it too quickly, so now there was nothing to distract him from the thoughts and feelings that came creeping in to replace the excitement over a new device to tinker with that had been buoying him up all this time.
The others were busy marveling over their ship being functional again, and their chance to escape this nightmare dimension at last; Fiddleford just curled up in his seat and clenched his hands around a rag to stop them from trembling, and wished wished wished he'd had his memory gun in his pocket when he'd been brought here so he could stop feeling choked with fear and despair in every non-working moment!
Were there any spare or discarded parts he could use to make a new one? Or at least a close enough approximation to the original? His eyes darted back and forth, squinting and trying to remember if there was anything from the dashboard that could create the same kind of erasure on the neural network so he wouldn't have to remember that thing in Stanford's basement, or the beast he'd seen when he first came here, or the faces of all his loved ones who he had probably lost forever-
Something landed on the table in front of him with a loud clunk, and a small rustle. It took Fiddleford a moment to realize that it was an old handkerchief tied into a bundle, and when he opened it he found that it was filled with the broken parts of some kind of unfamiliar device.
"That used to be one of our communicators," Syl's voice said from across the table. "See if you can put it back together, wouldya?"
Fiddleford looked up at her-and even though she was wearing her usual gruff expression, something told him that she understood how he was feeling perfectly.
"Thank you…" he whispered hoarsely, around the lump in his throat.
Syl's blue face darkened, and she folded her arms and looked away. "I'm just asking you to fix our broken stuff. You don't haveta get weird about it."
He just gave her a small smile, and then pulled out his toolkit and went to work.
If anything happened during their journey, Fiddleford didn't notice it.
Literally-the Beast with Just One Eye himself could have attacked their ship, and Fiddleford would barely have paid attention because he was blissfully absorbed in figuring out the intricate workings of the disassembled communicator and how all the different pieces fit together. Once he got the hang of how it worked, he found himself taking it apart and putting it back together again a few more times, trying to see how much quicker he could assemble it each time.
Heh, back when they were kids, his older brother Banjomin used to do this as a game with him-first with Legos, then, after this one incident with the alarm clock, more complicated pieces of machinery. He'd always loved putting things together, or taking them apart and using them to make new things, and it had become a competition between them to see who could finish their thing first. And it looked like Tate was developing the same knack-
Nope, focus on the communicator. Connect wires. Plug in sockets. Remind himself that this was (probably, maybe, hopefully) all just a bad dream that he just needed to get through.
Fiddleford's attention was finally pulled away by the sensation of someone shaking his shoulder.
"We're here, squints."
He looked up to see Syl, who pointed a thumb at the open door of the craft. Baldwin was waiting in front of it, and gave him an encouraging smile when their eyes met.
"...There was an incident last time we were here, so I'm the only one who can come with you," he said in response to Fiddleford's unspoken question.
Syl grumbled. "You get in a fight with one group of jerks…"
"They were her guests, and they were there first," Trogdor reminded her.
"And they started it!"
"Uh-huh. And I'm the king of Bingleborp."
Fiddleford swallowed, and interrupted the banter by handing Syl the newly reassembled communicator. "...Finished."
She set it on her chair, and hesitated, before giving him another punch in the shoulder. Considering it was far less hard than the first one she'd given him, he guessed that it was meant to be affectionate. "Say hi to old Seven-Eyes for me."
...Seven-Eyes? Holy hot sauce, that's a lot of eyes for someone to have. Just what kinda place have they taken me to?
Fiddleford joined Baldwin at the open door, and peered out uncertainly.
They were parked, he realized, on a mountainside, right in front of a large golden temple that looked like something out of a history book mixed with something out of a Star Trek episode.
Fiddleford climbed out of the ship slowly, and squinted up at the massive edifice in awe. The outside walls were covered in strange designs-he couldn't tell if they were supposed to be some kind of writing, or just fancy decoration, but either way they looked very interesting-and the whole thing gave off a kind of soft glow in the light of what was either a sunrise or a sunset, he couldn't tell which at the moment.
Baldwin nudged him gently with his mechanical arm, and gestured towards the large stone steps at the front of the temple.
"She probably knows we're here by now. Let's go and see her."
Fiddleford's stomach churned. He wished he had another mechanical or electrical device to work on, or just something to keep his hands busy and make it easier not to think about what was going on around him, but he allowed the guinea pig pirate man to lead him to the steps, and from there to the heavy metal doors-which slowly and silently opened as they approached.
"She must have very good hydraulics set up in those," he murmured as they stepped through the doorway. The air around them suddenly smelled of incense-a strong, spicy one that made his nose itch and his eyes sting at the corners, but also helped calm his nerves the tiniest bit. The walls, which had the same kind of glow as the outside of the building, contained more of those markings, as well as pictures that looked a little like hieroglyphs. Fiddleford wasn't given much time to examine them, but they seemed to be mostly pictures of some kind of weird salamander critter.
The hallway ended in a large courtyard area, with a fountain in the middle that instead of water, was producing something that looked like if you somehow managed to put the night sky into liquid form. It was surrounded by strange-looking plants, which came in a multitude of colors and, if you listened closely, actually seemed to be making music.
Fiddleford's attention, however, was primarily drawn to the very tall, purple, seven-eyed woman standing in front of the fountain.
Unlike most of the unusual creatures he'd seen so far, he didn't feel sudden terror and an urge to grab his memory gun and erase all memory of her from his existence. He wasn't sure why this was, but something about her expression was very...soothing. Either that, or the incense smell was getting stronger now that they were this far inside and making him dopey. But regardless, Fiddleford watched her with more curiosity than fear as they approached.
Once they were close, Jheselbraum smiled and removed her hands from the sleeves of her robe, giving them a small bow.
"Welcome, Baldwin of Clan Lunkarya. And to you, Fiddleford of Clan McGucket."
Her voice was low and smoky, like a bottle of really good whiskey; it went well with her appearance and demeanor.
Fiddleford managed to smile, and dip his head in a small semblance of a bow back to her-before he blinked in alarm at the realization that she'd just called him by name.
"H-How-"
"It is one of my gifts to always know the names of my guests. Incidentally, I have one for you." She reached into robe and produced an object which he couldn't make out until she stepped closer and offered it.
It was a pair of glasses, very much like his own except that the lenses were made out of green glass instead of clear.
Baldwin blinked. "...So that's why you keep squinting."
And while Fiddleford's mama had taught him not to take gifts from strangers, he really was tired of not being able to see well, so he lifted the glasses and put them on.
At once the world swam into focus around him, albeit with a light green tint. Fiddleford blinked in surprise; they matched his prescription exactly.
"Um-thank ya kindly, ma'am," he said at last.
"Of course." She gestured to the edge of the fountain. "Come, sit. We have much to discuss."