( We’ve only fucking^ done it! )

( Scrawny! ) The other three of us bellow into the pack-bond as we all fall back into the dust. He was right though – we have fucking done it. We surge back together and take up our control positions for the flying rig. We can control it if two of us use the buzzer-Sentinel with two on the rig itself. The rig can’t lift the two dogs needed to control it. It can simply travel around with us, bobbing at head height and preventing two dogs from being able to smell where they are going. It has no Service.

( There will be so much that this can do in Service. ) It seems that Scrawny does not agree with my assessment. ( When we have fully mastered this technology, we will be able to transport dogs and things all over World faster than a dog can run, essential if we need to defend against any off-World attackers that come when transport is allowed and Soil-dogs return to Soil and World. We could take scent messages all over Pack in a few moments, it could change the way we are able to organise ourselves. Even if there are not many Soil-dogs left on World, we will be able to make the most of the Pack we have. ) I phase out as he starts to get into more and more obscure uses for a barely-flying device. I dispatch Silky immediately with Soft to inform CT-HQ of the progress (All-Pack Guider^ No Eyes First Eyes Runt^ Rise has asked to be told about every development no matter how small). They have been waiting for the last sixth^ for some kind of progress, which up to now has been incremental to the extent that it felt like nothing was changing. If Scrawny is not with us, we are completely unable to affect any movement. It was him who discovered that the two devices have some kind of pack-bond with each other and can be used to serve each other.

“OK, shift round!” He and Pompous are recording the different elements that influence our ability to control the flying rig. He goes onto the buzzer-Sentinel and Fierce joins me on the flying-rig. Pompous is recording observation prompts onto leaves. I hope Pompous and Scrawny have made clear memory links with the prompt scents. They are being recorded so quickly. I put my nose into the now familiar dent on the comfort unit bit of the flying-rig. Fierce takes up her position. We connect with our pack-bond.

( Some Service! ) She has been getting restless with the endless experiments. While we were away, it was established that no other bonded-pack can move any device or access the memories locked in the buzzer-Sentinel. So, we have just been sticking our noses into divots for nearly a sixth now, waiting for our skills to improve. Scrawny thinks he is improving, Swift thinks she might be but Fierce and I feel like we are just convenient noses to fill the dips. I don’t have time to reply before the other two join us in the pack-bond.

( Right pack. We will try the same again, all lift at first. Swift and I will raise the device and steering, which we should get to do this time, will be down to Fierce and Strong First Eyes. ) I try to force all thoughts of “up” I have into my nose. I have no idea if it helps. If I lose focus, it doesn’t seem to make any difference. We all concentrate. The device starts to shimmer. The wings flap. A little wonkily at first but, much faster than previously, they reach a humming rhythm. It then suddenly shoots up into the air wrenching away from our noses. Fierce and I roll in the dust again (one thing is for certain, we are better at falling and rolling now). We instinctively curl ourselves to protect our heads from the device falling. It’s not heavy but the fluttering wings, so soft when still, have a nasty habit of scarring a dog. We’re all as scarred as Silky! But nothing crashes onto us. We hear the wings falter after a cent and get up and out of the way as it half-glides, half-falls to a rest in front of Scrawny and the buzzer-sentinel.

“What happened that time?” asks Pompous, rushing towards Scrawny, “You had control. Even after they lost contact!”

“I connected to it differently that time. I could feel it and if I imagined running, it stayed where I wanted.”

“Do you think the connection was due to your conceptualisation of it? Or your position?”

“I’m not sure. Let’s try again. I’ll go in the same place.”

We dutifully take up our positions. This time, as soon as our noses are in contact it leaps into the air and stabilises. It stays there and Scrawny says, ( Can you remove ye-r noses from it one at a time? We will try to keep it stable. Swift, focus on stability on the horizontal plane. ) Fierce looks at me and removes her nose. The device barely wobbles. She wiggles her nose back into position and I remove mine, feeling the chill of air on the tip of my nose. I ram my nose back into the familiar nook. I may have been complaining but if this machine can function with some, but not all, of our den-pack suggests we might have to serve apart for a while. ( Both together? ) We both remove our noses and the rig wobbles a little, then seems to find its balance. It bobs up a bit then down again. ( Try connecting again? ) We reapply our noses as it settles at our head-height. I briefly feel a tickle in my mind of a faint pack-bond with a mind I do not understand. Is this what Scrawny was talking about? ( Hold on. ) We each grab a fold of the straps on the comfort-unit section. The flying rig lifts us both off the ground for a heartbeat. It rips from our teeth and careens higher up than it has ever gone in our experiments, flips up on one side like a pup running to first provision and then sprints at the ground.

We get to our feet and check each other. Even with a bit of practice there are heights it is best not to fall from. We realise we have more noses on us than just Pompous’s. There is Curly Rise and One-Spot and basically every dog who smelled Pompous and Scrawny’s excitement. They have been pumping it out in increasing volumes.

“Was that you?”

“Yeah, I have a hypothesis. I think we need to try with other, more loosely-bonded-to-me dogs to test it.” The two of them put their heads together and start coming up with dogs with different levels of closeness to Scrawny and how they might quantify the bonds to control for different factors. Even by their usual gabble this seems boring. Putting numbers to pack-bonds feels too clinical to me.

“Come on, you two, lets collect our wayward device.” I want us to have a moment with a tiny bit of bond-privacy from Scrawny. I don’t want to hide from him but his thoughts are so hurried that they are overwhelming. We have all been withdrawn in the pack-bond recently, probably because he can’t keep that to himself. As we form up I hear Pompous mutter,

“It’s a shame we don’t have Wilful.” I know Pompous was close to Wilful and rated her scientific ability. That shows why I will always serve Pack as I do, I cannot understand how it is useful for any-dog to be so without restraint.

We chat aloud, to keep bond-barriers in place,

“Well that was something!” Swift, closer pack-bonded to Scrawny, seems to share more of his excitement.

“It was creepy, it took our energy to get started but then didn’t need us.” Fierce shakes her coat emphatically.

“What was it like flying though?”

“It mostly felt like falling, including the bit where your skin is the only thing holding you together when you land.” My muscles are not happy after a sixth of being beaten into the ground like a tough piece of provision.

“He might be right about us being able to control this sooner or later. All-Pack Guider No Eyes First Eyes Runt Rise will be thrilled with what we have achieved,” Fierce is right. Soon we will really have something to help Pack on all worlds. I wonder if any-dog has hit 5 notches as quickly as that!