Chapter 9

I swung my head around to look behind me. Sure enough, I had left some footprints on floor. There was a powder that looked like graphite on the floor over near the technician's workbench. I guess they were using it to clean or lubricate the gear they were working on and some had spilled on the floor. Without realizing it, I had walked right through it.

Scales, I could be such an idiot at times. I was so worried about knocking things over that I completely forgot about leaving footprints. Naturally, since I could feel my weight on my feet, that would mean that I'd leave footprints anywhere I might step. I sighed. Too bad that didn't dawn on me sooner. I was just no good at stealth. The problem was that dragons had always been the dominate predator on the planet. No other animal was faster than us nor more powerful. And nothing hunted us either. When our ancestors hunted for food, they could easily chase down and capture anything they wanted. Since there was never any need for a dragon to hide or lie in wait, we never developed an instinct for stealth. As such, our thinking was geared towards direct attacks and brute force. We were just no good at sneaking around.

The other technician had come over to look at the tracks I had left. He said, "Do you think the boss sent one of his wraith dragons through to check up on us?"

"I don't know," the first technician said. "He's never done that before. He hates to be bothered, but I think we should let him know about this."

"Right," the other said. He moved to a console nearby and hit a switch.

A few moments later, the impatient voice of Word Paynn answered, "What is it?"

"Mr. Paynn, sir," the technician said formerly. "We found some dragon tracks on the floor here, and we were wondering if one of your wraith dragons had been through here recently."

Sounding annoyed at having been disturbed, Word answered, "What are you fools blabbering about. You know the dragons don't come to the upper levels. Why are you wasting my..." His voice trailed off and was silent for a few seconds. "Those tracks: are they from a biped or a quadruped?"

"Looks like a quadruped, sir. With claws, not hooves. It looks to be a fairly large dragon by the size of the footprints."

There were a few seconds of silence as Word seemed to think this over. "Wait there. I'm coming down," he said sternly. "And remove the energy cells from the time machine and lock them away just in case."

"Just in case of what?" asked the technician.

"Don't ask questions. Just do it," Word ordered emphatically.

"Yes, sir," the technician responded. He turned off the com-link and said to the other, "Come'on. Let's get to it."

The technicians moved over to the pod. They opened a panel on the side of the pod below the ramp I was standing on. They released some catches and each of them drew out a large cylinder. One was black and the other red. As soon as they removed them, I noticed all the lights went out inside the pod. Great. Not only did I not know how to use the thing, but now it had no power either. Just what I needed: more complications. Well, at least I knew I was in the right place now. This was indeed the time machine.

The technicians carried the energy cells back to the other side of the room and placed them in a storage container. Then they closed the lid and locked it. They waited there for Word to show up.

A short time later, he strode into the room carrying a small scanner-like device in one hand and a larger piece of black draconium gear in the other. He walked over to where the technicians were standing and looked down to study the tracks I had left. He didn't look happy at all and he scowled as he looked at the footprints. All he said was, "Hmmm."

Still frowning, he raised the scanning unit that was in his right hand and began panning it around the room. When he pointed it in my direction, it started beeping. He stopped and studied the readout. This didn't look good.

His eyes narrowed and his frown changed to a sinister smile and, with a bit of sarcasm in his voice, he looked in my direction and said, "Well, well. It looks like my old friend Mortis had an ace up his sleeve. Ancient gold defensive armor. How lucky for you he had that gear. And how lucky it was that he got it to you in time." Then with a deadly serious look on his face and continuing with a more dire sound in his voice, "But I'm afraid this is where your luck runs out."