They rushed back into the Rustbucket...but someone had a problem.
"My laptop! You scorched the motherboard, you flaming freak!" Gwen screamed at Ben's wrist. She held up a silver laptop that had a distinct, melted thumbprint in the center of the casing.
The watch remained silent for a heartbeat. Then, the pink hourglass flickered.
BZZZT.
Ben winced, clutching the side of his head. "OW! Quit it! It hurts"
"The device is calibrating the linguistic bridge," Pyra's voice echoed, not from his watch, but from inside Ben's own skull.
Few seconds later Ben headaches and migraines subsided...
But Pyra wasn't done with Gwen.
"The silicon slab was in the path of the scavenger," Pyra rumbled. "Be grateful I did not incinerate your entire primitive dwelling. It is made of flammable polymers and cheap wood. It is a fire trap."
"It's a classic vehicle, you overgrown charcoal briquette!" Gwen yelled back. She threw the ruined laptop onto the bunk.
THUD.
"Grandpa, tell the space-lady to stop insulting our house!"
Max was standing on a step-stool, his face red from effort as he pulled a roll of silver duct tape across the jagged hole in the ceiling.
"She's not wrong, Gwen," Max muttered through a mouthful of tape. He slapped a strip over a sparking wire. "The Rustbucket wasn't built to house a Pyronite. Ben, check the dial. Is there a cooling setting? The floor is still smoking."
Ben looked down at the linoleum. Where Pyra had stood, the floor was a blackened, melted mess.
"I don't know! It doesn't have a 'don't melt my house' button!" Ben poked the pink glass.
DING.
A holographic display projected into the smoky air of the RV
But unfortunately for the already mentally drained Ben. It was a series of complex, shifting symbols that looked like interlocking gears.
"I can't read this! It looks like a bunch of drunk spiders crawled over the screen!" Ben yelled.
"It is the tongue of the Creators," Pyra's voice vibrated in his head. "It says the Synchronization is at twelve percent. You are... insufficient, Sire. Your heart rate is too high, and your caloric intake is pathetic. You must eat more protein if you wish to sustain my physical form for longer than a skirmish."
"I'm eating! I'm eating!" Ben grabbed a handful of cold, greasy bacon from a plate and shoved it into his mouth.
CHOMP. GULP.
"Great," Gwen said, crossing her arms over her chest. Her face was set in a deep scowl. "So my summer vacation is now a biological boot camp for a kid who still sleeps with a nightlight. Grandpa, we have to go to a hospital or something. Let's get that thing off his arm...we can cut off the arm if we've to"
"No hospital on Earth can touch that tech, Gwen," Max said. He climbed down from the stool, his right knee popped like dry bubble wrap.
He wiped his greasy hands on a rag and looked out the window. The six red lights in the sky were closer now, cutting through the clouds like glowing embers.
"We can't stay here. Those drones are probably locked onto the Chaquetrix's signature," Max stated. He jumped into the driver's seat and turned the key.
The engine roared, coughing out a cloud of black smoke that filled the clearing. Max slammed the shifter into gear.
The Rustbucket lurched forward, its tires spinning in the dirt and throwing a spray of gravel against the trees.
"Hold on to something!" Max yelled.
Ben grabbed the edge of the table. Gwen grabbed the handle of the refrigerator. As the RV bounced over a massive tree root, the fridge door swung open.
A jar of "Pickled Octopus Beaks" flew out, shattered on the floor, and sprayed purple brine all over Ben's sneakers.
"AW, MAN! THESE WERE NEW!" Ben screamed.
"FOCUS, SIRE!" Pyra's voice boomed in his head. "The hunters are above! Turn the dial to the third notch! Summon the tracker! We need to move faster than this lumbering metal box!"
Ben looked at the watch. He turned the pink rim.
CLICK. CLICK.
The symbol changed. Instead of the flame icon, it showed a jagged, toothy silhouette.
"A tracker?" Ben whispered. "Is she talking about a dog?"
"Just do it, Ben! Before we get turned into a scrap heap!" Gwen yelled, ducking as a red laser beam sliced through the back window, shattering the glass into a million tiny diamonds.
SHATTER!