A chromatic waterfall swallowed their vision. Their feet lifted, then landed on something cold and smooth. The stretched world snapped back into focus as the colors remembered their shapes. Spicy cucumber, with a hint of mint, flashed across their tongues.

  They stood on a dark gray circular platform with an inward-sloped rim, its surface divided into thin triangular slices that met at a single point. The same segmented pad from Rufus’s basement, but everything around it had changed.

  Above, they couldn’t tell if they were looking at a ceiling or a sky. A star-salted void hung overhead, too bright, too close. Streams of color streaked through it. Every so often something shimmered, and the truth revealed itself. An iridescent dome, catching the backdrop and bending it out of true.

  Sound arrived late. At first, it was a discordant rush, then it sorted itself, note by note, like a symphony warming into coherence. Pressure built between their ears, then popped like a balloon.

  Rufus’s voice cut through first. “Welcome to Station.”

  Mari, Jerro, and Greg stared at each other. Phlip dropped a quick pile of pellets and scratched one floppy ear like this was all perfectly normal.

  A walkway extended from the platform, straight as a dock.

  Mari followed the line of it, and her stomach tightened. There was no water underneath. No floor. Just a slow churn of space, like an ocean made of dark ether. The dock and the facility beyond it hovered over nothing, as if gravity had been politely asked not to interfere.

  Rufus rotated toward the walkway and drifted forward, levitating with casual ease. “Follow me. I’ll give you a quick tour as we make our way to your quarters.”

  “What is this place?” Mari asked. “And what did you mean about seeing someone we lost?”

  “This is Station,” Rufus said, not slowing. “Removed from the fabric of space and time. Where we are is… abstract.”

  They tried to follow, but their legs argued.

  Jerro stumbled and hit the walkway. Mari managed three steps before she dropped to a knee, muscles quaking like her strength had been left behind in The Burrow.

  Rufus chuckled ahead of them. “First transit malaise. Typical. Keep moving.”

  Greg hauled Jerro up and made small circles on Mari’s back. “Come on. He’s getting ahead of us.”

  They pushed forward, and that was when the ships came into view.

  Row after row lined the dock in tight berths. Some were sleek gunmetal wedges with subtle illumination. Others looked stitched together from scavenged panels and strange materials that caught the rainbow light and threw it back in unfamiliar colors. None of them floated. They hovered, steady over the abyss.

  Crews loaded and unloaded cargo with practiced speed. Some were burrowing rodents like them. Others were not. Tall, hunched, armored. A sailor paused, saw Rufus, and saluted.

  Rufus kept talking like it meant nothing. “Back in the day, we had to climb into the godunum of cows and other ungulates capable of bridging the space-time continuum. Not the most pleasant way to travel.”

  “Guys,” Mari muttered, “he’s out of his mind.”

  “Might be,” Greg said, “but so were those cloaked things back there.”

  They passed a smaller ship, and a marmot sailor hopped down, tapped the hull once, and the whole craft collapsed into a ball. He tossed it to another sailor—a lumbering badger—and jogged off.

  Jerro slowed, staring. “Did you just see that—”

  Before he could finish, a caravan of capybaras expanded something wagon-shaped into a full ship in an empty berth. Boards unfolded. Panels locked into place in a smooth mechanical cascade. They climbed aboard without breaking stride.

  Mari’s eyes kept drifting outward, beyond the dock, beyond the facility. Outside the dome, a sphere of blue energy slid past, trailing a glinting silver wake. Farther out, two pink bubbles spread from a band of light. On the opposite side, a ring of dark clouds produced beams so bright they seemed to carve the darkness itself.

  Nothing about the motion felt stable. Not wrong. Just untrustworthy. Like her senses were reading from a different set of rules.

  Ahead, sleek towers clustered within three massive rings, dragging through space vertically, so tall Mari couldn’t see their full curve at once.

  “What are those?” she asked before she meant to.

  Rufus glanced back, eyes bright. “You’ll learn, but not now.”

  Then, near the end of the dock, an armored guard in deep red garnet plating waited at attention. Two curved swords hung at her waist, one shorter than the other.

  Rufus addressed her with the ease of routine. “Master Larude. Always a pleasure. These three are the newest recruits. Mari, Jerro, and Greg.” He paused, then winked at Phlip. “Oh, and Phlip too.”

  Phlip’s glassy eyes drifted into the void.

  Master Larude drew the short sword with lightning speed, flourished it in a display so precise Mari couldn’t follow the blade, and finished by presenting it vertically. With a flick of her head, she raised her visor.

  “Welcome to Station, young Fragments,” she said, voice flat and serious. “May your journeys be nonlinear.”

  “Thanks… I think?” Mari answered, her tone rising and falling like a question she didn’t mean to ask.

  “Come along, come along,” Rufus said, already drifting past her. “We’ve much to do, much to do indeed.”

  They followed, leaving Master Larude at her post.

  “What do you think she meant by that?” Greg murmured, “and what even was she?”

  “Oh,” Jerro said, lighting with recognition. “I think I know. I was reading about them the other day in a pre-war book. She’s a wombut, maybe? If I’m right, they live in a different part of the world. Far from The Burrow.” He frowned. “No idea about the nonlinear journey part, though.”

  “Very close, Jerro,” Rufus called back, and they all looked up, startled he’d overheard them at that distance. “Master Larude is a wombat. Prime Spectre of Astral Landing. The landing includes the pathway we just walked, and the chronoarch we just used to travel here. The nonlinear journey phrase is used by the Eternal Spectre Guard.”

  Greg threw his arms up and turned about like a carousel. “I really don't understand any of this. Where are we even?”

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  “Imagine, if you will,” Rufus said, “your universe is a finely woven tapestry. The multiverse is an infinite stack of tapestry layers. They touch, but do not intertwine. This place is a thread that runs through those layers.”

  Greg’s eyes expanded. He tucked in his chin and flattened his lips. “Yeah. Totally makes sense.” He nodded vigorously while shooting Jerro and Mari a look that clearly meant the opposite.

  Jerro grinned. “I think I get it.”

  Mari said nothing. She walked beside Phlip, a paw resting on his harness, eyes fixed on the ground, holding on like she could keep herself real that way.

  Ahead, an open-air cantina came into view, bright and busy compared to the stark gray structures that pressed around it. Creatures moved in and out in a constant flow. Burrowing rodents, beavers, capybaras, porcupines, and others Mari couldn’t name.

  Mari looked up as they drew closer. “Rufus, why did she call us Fragments?”

  “Because you are,” Rufus said. “By rank and by reality. When we used the chronoarch, the timeline fragmented. That’s how new initiates begin. As Fragments. You are still you, but not wholly the same you.”

  “I don’t feel fragmented,” Greg said.

  “And you wouldn’t,” Rufus replied. “Your mind cannot hold the full shape of it. Not yet.”

  Greg nodded again, exaggerated and empty. “Oh. Okay. And the rank part?”

  “We keep structure for function, not discipline,” Rufus said. “Fragments. Then Weavers. Then Elision.”

  Jerro glanced toward the cantina crowd. “So what are they? Everyone here?”

  “Everyone on Station is Unbound,” Rufus said. “Freelance crews. Travelers. Staff.”

  Greg pointed at himself with a jerk of his chin. “So we’re Unbound too?”

  Rufus’s smile twitched. “Yes, but you are also initiates now. You belong to the Order. So long as you chose to. Your rank for the moment is Fragment.”

  Jerro’s brow furrowed. “So we are in the Eternal Spectres?”

  “The Eternal Spectre Guard. They are sentinels for Station,” Rufus said. “They are not you. You are something else.”

  Mari sped up to walk beside him. “You said the timeline was ruptured, but now you’re saying it fragmented. Did we do that?”

  “Fragmentation is normal,” Rufus said. “Every decision, every step, every breath can branch. Rupturing is different. Destructive. Picture that stack of tapestries moving through time. Each fragment creates a copy of the stack. Those copies diverge and evolve. When there is a rupture, the stack collapses on itself. Layers can meld, not only within a stack, but the failure can propagate between stacks.”

  Mari’s brow tightened. “So where do we come in?”

  “That,” Rufus said, “is to be determined.” His cheeks lifted into a smile that somehow made Mari want to believe him. “Truthfully, it is an art more than a science. Each artist finds their own medium.” His eyes flicked to hers. “I know you will find your way. Just as your mother did.”

  “Wait,” Mari said. “My mother?”

  But Rufus had already turned toward the group, cutting her off.

  “Alright. Here is where I leave you for the time being.” He waved a paw at the cantina. “This is The Hub. Gathering place for all of Station.”

  He gestured toward a table, directing them to sit. Mari stayed on his flank, unwilling to let the mention of her mother evaporate.

  Rufus gestured again, this time with his eyes and head added to the motion. “Grellin and Mellin will take care of you. Get the three of you set up in your room. We will continue orientation when you awake for the new lune.”

  “Who?” Mari asked, looking around.

  Rufus vanished.

  Two gerbils popped their heads up over the edge of the table like they’d been hiding there the whole time.

  “Greetings, young Fragments!” they beamed in unison.

  “I’m Grellin,” said the tan one with a white belly.

  The other was black with white blotches. She leaned in front of Grellin. “And I’m Mellin.” Her words hung in the middle.

  “First things first,” Grellin said, “how about we get a round of ice cream for this gang? You all look plain ol’ tuckered out.”

  Mellin elbowed him. “Look at their wrists. They don’t have trackers,” she said, quieter than Grellin but not quiet enough.

  “By the Trimarmot, you’re right!” Grellin said, not subtly at all. “Hang on. I’ll be right back.” He scurried off toward the bar.

  Mellin turned back to them, tone gentler. “Don’t worry, this isn’t completely uncommon, but I have to ask. When did you last have ice cream?”

  Jerro blinked. “Uh… never?” He looked to Greg and Mari like he needed confirmation.

  “Never?” Mellin’s head cocked back. “Well, you all are in for a treat.” Her eyes narrowed with sudden seriousness. “But it’s very important to remember you cannot have more than twenty-seven ounces in a seventy-three-lune period. But, if you have just the right amount, you will experience certain… benefits.” Then she smiled again. “Plus, it’s simply delicious.”

  Jerro stared. “Is that a Burrow lune? How are you measuring time here?”

  “Most of us are originally from The Burrow,” Mellin said with a shrug, “or variations at least. Since time is… flexible here, we stuck with the traditional lune.”

  Grellin returned, trailed by a levitating tray with three ice cream cones holstered to it. Glossy white scoops embedded with black flecks reflected the rainbow glow outside. Waffle cones waited beneath, crisp and brown.

  Cradled in Grellin’s paws was a stack of three matte black bands, so tall it nearly overshadowed him.

  “Alright,” Grellin said, breathless with excitement. “These trackers are multifunctional. They ping your location in space and time back to Station, track ice cream intake, and monitor eldritch radiation. Slap one on and you’re good.”

  “The one thing they won’t do is tell you the time,” Mellin added brightly, “but you’ll find that isn’t super relevant in most cases.”

  The friends stared blankly.

  “Hold your wrists out,” Mellin said. “I’ll show you.”

  Greg went first. Then Jerro. Then Mari, slower than the others, her eyes still trying to make sense of the world outside the dome. Mellin held a bracelet just above each wrist, then smacked it down. The rigid band flexed and wrapped perfectly. Not too tight. Not too loose.

  “If you ever need to take it off,” Grellin said, “just grab an end and straighten it back out like this.” He demonstrated, popping his own band free, straightening it, then snapping it back around his tiny wrist.

  With their bracelets on, they tried ice cream for the first time.

  Hesitant at first. Then the first bite hit, cold enough to sting and sweet enough to make them blink, vanilla hiding underneath. The scoops softened fast, turning it into a countdown. They ate quicker than planned, catching drips before they could fall, paws growing tacky as the cone warmed and slumped. Somehow it held together to the end, the last crunch snapping clean between their teeth.

  Their bracelets buzzed in near unison. On each matte band, a small ice cream cone icon blinked to life and filled partway from the bottom up.

  Grellin and Mellin watched with bright, proud smiles, but didn’t eat any themselves.

  Mari pushed the final bit of cone into her mouth, cheeks puffing. “How come you’re not having any?”

  They held up their wrists.

  “We’re tapped out on our dose,” Grellin said. Mellin double-tapped her bracelet, and a hollow ice cream cone icon appeared on the matte surface, filled from the bottom up, then flashed rapidly.

  “What did you think?” Grellin asked, leaning in. “How was it?”

  “That was insane,” Mari said, swallowing. “So good.” Her brow tightened again. “But what benefits are you talking about?”

  Mellin grinned and folded her arms. “Let’s just say you’ll notice your powers run significantly stronger in the coming lunes.”

  Grellin clapped his paws once. “Okay. We gotta get you all to your room. Rufus told us not to let you linger here too long.”

  Greg looked at his friends. “When did he tell them that?”

  Mellin and Grellin were already moving toward the edge of The Hub. “Follow us!”

  Mari stood, still half stunned. “I don’t know, but I’m only following like ten percent of what’s going on right now.”

  “That’s weird,” Jerro said, holding back a smile with flat lips and wide eyes. “I’m understanding exactly forty-three percent of it.”

  They followed the gerbils out.

  The Hub was bright and expansive, its walls covered in action-packed murals of alien landscapes and unfamiliar creatures. Dozens of tables filled the space. A long ice cream bar curved in a half-circle, stools lining its edge. Behind the bar, displays cycled through images of crystals of various colors and sizes being grown in a strange digital setting.

  Outside between buildings, the air felt thinner, colder, and somehow cleaner.

  They didn’t walk far before Mellin let out a small squeak and announced, “This is it. Home sweet home!”

  “When you wake up, swing back to The Hub,” Grellin said in a sweet yet firm tone. “We’ll help you get going with the rest of your orientation. Get some rest, ya little Fragments.”

  Greg opened the door.

  They all muttered goodbyes to Grellin and Mellin, then stepped into their new quarters and let the day collapse behind them.