[b]Lucien![/b]

This place is a rolling disaster. You see it, for a moment, dizzying and vast and sharp-edged, a web/net of stolen misfortune. There has to be a balance. This is where every disaster ends up; this is where every accident bleeds to; this is an infected abscess of the world. Already you can see how having a juvenile train here is leading to a train crash, inevitable and horrible. People will die. That’s why something’s a disaster.

But that’s not what you need. You need to fit in. You need to follow the lessons of the clown. The clown paints their face to reveal the true face underneath, all grinning teeth and holy skull. They become something other. You need to become something other.

You need to become the Fool of the Sky Court.

It’s an old, old story; almost as old as the Stone Chorus. The Fool is the avatar of Now. His past does not exist; her future is incomprehensible. He exists in the flickering heartbeat of sensation and rides disaster as if it is her bicycle. And the Fool could ride Wormwood Station like a wave.

The Fool is neither clothed or naked; neither armed or unarmed; neither man or woman; neither servant or master. Fulfill those four symbols correctly and you will have [i]Protection[/i] from Wormwood Station. Fire will not touch you; debris will fall in a halo around you; and angels will turn their faces away. Only the cannibals might give you any pause, if you were the Fool.

***

[b]Ailee![/b]

The Station’s reply is the rusting screech of an Angel from the entrance to the Hive. Awww, somebody’s sulking.

Okay, let’s recap. The Station’s aware of itself, cheerfully homicidal but still trying to bargain with you, and when you go outside the hive it will likely start gunning for you. If it has a heart, or a core, or something? Coleman would probably be able to tell you where it is. Speaking of Coleman, Lucien, Jackdaw and Professor Clown, they’re not in the hive— and you care about most of the above.

So what’s the plan?

***

[b]Coleman! Jackdaw![/b]

Feeding Wolf takes time. Twice, you are obliged to move to avoid, in order, a malfunctioning steam vent and a spacial [i]glitch[/i] that would have folded you all into... interesting new shapes. (And if you were really lucky, you wouldn’t have survived. But this is Wormwood. [i]You would have survived.[/i])

Then she takes you, laconically, to a spur. Here, Sasha can get on the rails and rejoin the Vermissian, given a full head of steam. Easy. Too easy, maybe.