Chapter 127: The Glimmer in the Hidden Compartment |
The mechanic's bony fingers paused for three seconds at the edge of the workbench, the residual vibrations from metal meeting wooden surface not yet fully dissipated. Gears in the workshop continued their rhythmic clicking, steam seeping through pipe joints, yet all seemed frozen into transparent ice under his oppressive silence. His clouded eyes turned toward me, irises reflecting the furnace's dancing orange flames like two embers about to extinguish.
"Some things should have stayed rotting inside gearboxes," he suddenly spoke, his voice raspy like bearings scraped by sandpaper. Before the words faded, his right arm's mechanical joint emitted a series of delicate hums, hydraulic tubes beneath the brass plating slowly contracting. I instinctively retreated half a step as the mechanical arm that had accompanied him for years began separating segment by segment under hydraulic pressure—from the shoulder joint to wrist bearings, each connection precise as interlocking clockwork gears.
When the arm fully detached, what was revealed wasn't the crude docking mechanism I'd imagined, but a ring of intricate interfaces embedded with tiny steel beads, their edges still glistening with fresh lubricant. Supporting his right stump with his left hand, the mechanic pressed lightly on the inner elbow joint where metal scales suddenly folded inward like living tissue, exposing a thumbnail-sized hidden compartment. Its edges bore intricate spiral patterns that glowed faintly blue under the furnace light.
His left hand trembled slightly as he extracted a crystal vial no longer than a thumb from the compartment. The exquisitely faceted bottle refracted rainbow hues yet couldn't mask the liquid's peculiar color inside—a drop of silver-blue fluid suspended in vacuum, neither flowing like water nor solid like metal, pulsing gently at the vial's base as if alive, each throb leaving ephemeral ripples along the glass.
"This was recovered from an airship wreck twenty years ago," the mechanic's voice lowered as his gaze drifted toward a pile of discarded parts in the workshop corner. "The entire vessel had burned to charcoal, yet the cockpit safe still retained traces of warmth when we opened it. Just this vial inside, not even an instruction manual." Raising the crystal vial, the silver-blue liquid suddenly surged violently inside, tracing lightning-like trajectories against the glass.
Leaning closer, I noticed countless minuscule light points floating on the liquid's surface, as if an entire starfield had been condensed into this single drop. When the mechanic's finger accidentally brushed the vial, these light points immediately gathered into a swirling vortex at the center, emitting a faint hum that mysteriously harmonized with the workshop's machinery.
"Tried every instrument to analyze it," he gave a bitter laugh while reattaching his mechanical arm, the metallic clangs shattering the workshop's silence. "Spectrometers show it contains no known elements, its density auto-adjusts with temperature changes, and strangest of all—it perpetually stays at negative seven degrees yet never freezes anything around it." As hydraulic systems reactivated, indicator lights along the arm's joints lit up sequentially, restoring its usual dexterity.
Returning the vial to its hidden compartment, the metal scales slowly closed over the concealed secret. The mechanical arm flexed several times before grabbing a wrench from the table, yet froze upon touching the cold metal. Furnace light cast flickering shadows across his aged face when I suddenly noticed—reflected in his mechanical eye's pupil was that same silver-blue glimmer from the vial, perhaps sharing identical warmth with the embers of that airship wreck two decades past.
Gears kept turning, steam resumed flowing, yet the air now carried an ineffable presence. That crystal vial hidden within the mechanical arm's compartment, along with its mysterious silver-blue droplet, remained like a riddle preserved by time itself—nestled within the mechanic's grease-stained palm, awaiting some yet-to-come revelation.