It turned out that Ford was right: Mabel really couldn't do anything. Ford was inspecting the machinery, tinkering with various nuts and bolts, checking the programming on a bulbous screen to the side of the control station. Mabel would have no idea what he was doing — she didn't trust herself to learn, either, not with Stan's rescue on the line. Maybe it would be fun to learn some mechanics, but now wasn't the time for that.

So she sat. And waited. Ford didn't really talk much besides muttering to himself, so Mabel didn't really feel needed on the company front. She wanted to keep reading the first Journal, but Ford was using all of them. Not all three all the time — he said she was welcome to grab the first one whenever he didn't need it — but being constantly being interrupted whenever Ford needed it back wasn't an enjoyable prospect.

She tried to tell herself she didn't mind. And she didn't, not conceptually, but it was hard to keep her sanity minute by boring minute.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. "Grunkle Ford, do you think you could maybe explain to me what you're doing while you work? I-I don't think it'd be a good idea to, y'know, hand me a wrench, but maybe talking about it will help you think." And help me not go crazy, she added silently.

Ford extricated himself from the machinery he was under and attempted (unsuccessfully) to brush the grease stains off his shirt. "Sure. Right now, I'm just checking the various pipes and wires under these gauges, making sure nothing's rusted through." He put his hands on his hips. "For being abandoned for thirty years, everything is in remarkably good shape. I haven't found anything that needs replacing yet."

"Oh, that's awesome!" Mabel frowned. "I thought gauges were tiny, though." She made a little circle with her hands to demonstrate.

Ford pointed to circular instruments atop the machine. "We just called the whole contraption a gauge to save time."

"Oh." She had been curious, but the real reason she had brought it up was to put off asking her real question. Mabel shrank back a bit, nervous of Ford's reaction. "So. . . what's stopping us from turning it back on all the way?"

"Well, we really shouldn't attempt to turn it on until I finish this evaluation." Ford sighed. "But that's not all, I don't think. I've had this nagging feeling. . . it feels like a bad omen to speak it out loud, but that's nonsense."

"Not entirely," Mabel said. "Bill could hear."

Ford tilted his head in acknowledgement. "You're right. Though I vaguely remember that he can't see into my head, what with this metal plate. Otherwise he probably would've shown up in my dreams already, trying to discourage me."

"Or maybe he just wants you to think he can't."

"Either way," Ford said, "we can't succeed with the portal if we're not open with each other. We're locking down the house; that may be all we can do." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "He might show up in the rest of your dreams, though. Be on the lookout."

Mabel laughed, but it was devoid of humor. "He already shows up in my dreams every night, Grunkle Ford. Just my subconscious versions of him, but I don't know if I'll even notice the difference."

She thought Ford tried to assume a sympathetic expression, but it just looked uncomfortable. "Well. . . keep your guard up." And he ducked back under the machinery.

Both of them were quiet for a full minute. Whatever Ford was thinking, Mabel could only guess, but she was trying to reconcile his dismissive attitude. She knew he had a hard time with empathy, that he didn't know how to be comforting, but some part of her still took his behavior as an insult to her personally. It was hard not to. But he was trying, she knew.

"So. . . what was that nagging feeling?" she asked.

"Ah, yes," Ford said, his voice muffled due to his prone position beneath the metal. "Well, one of the things I'm checking should bring up a question. Why pipes?"

Mabel's heart sank. "Oh."

Ford came out far enough to meet her eye. "'Oh,' indeed," he said. "Why pipes? To carry something. Some sort of fuel."

"Gasoline?" Mabel said hopefully. She didn't know of any in the Museum, but at least there was some nearby in the town.

"It's not that simple, unfortunately," Ford said. "Would that this was as easy to operate as a car! But no, it's something else. Something unattainable most other places."

Mabel sighed. She recognized that tone. "And you have no clue what it is, do you."

"I'm afraid I don't," Ford said. "I'm close to remembering, I can feel it — it's like I'm just about to grab ahold of the knowledge if I just keep reaching for it."

His tone had an underlying note of frustration. Mabel was surprised it was only underlying — if she couldn't remember her past, she don't think she would handle it nearly this well. She rubbed at her arms, looking around the basement, trying to think of a way to help him remember.

Her eyes alighted on the Journals.

"Have you tried using the black light? Maybe one of the Journals has a clue," she suggested.

"Hmm," Ford said. "I've read through the third Journal with the black light, but not the other ones." He went fully back under, and his voice came floating out with the sounds of metal hitting metal. "Open them all up to the page on the portal and shine the pen over them, would you? I remember the third Journal having invisible ink on the portal page, so it makes sense that the others would as well."

Mabel moved to the control station and flipped the Journals open. "Where's the black light pen?"

The metallic sounds paused briefly. "I think it's up in my lab."

Okay, that meant walking, but Mabel didn't mind. At least it was something to do. "I'll go grab it," she said. She took the elevator back up to the main level, jogged back to Ford's lab, and rooted around for the black light pen for a couple minutes before finding it. As she headed back to the basement, she passed Dipper and Melody. After waving and holding up the pen in explanation, she pushed through the door to the gift shop and rejoined Ford downstairs.

When she got there, Ford was standing at the control station, idly flipping through one of the Journals. He turned around when he saw her. She frowned; her great uncle looked rather disoriented.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He shook his head to clear it. "I'm fine, I just. . . well, I saw something under those gauges that reminded me of something. Trouble is, I don't know what that something is. I remember Fidds repairing that particular part of the portal one day, and something strange happening as he did it, but. . . that's it."

Mabel held up the black light pen. "Will this help, maybe?"

Ford's eyes lit up. "Ah yes, excellent." He held out his hand, and Mabel gave him the pen. Clicking it on, he barely gave Mabel time to move so she could see the Journals.

"Woah," she breathed. The pages were covered small, cramped writing. "That's a lot."

"Yes," Ford said. "I didn't have space to write notes about the portal — I had already written the next few pages in the third Journal, so it would've been off-topic, and the other two were full — so I wrote them here. The third Journal talks about programming the location that the portal opens to, and the other two. . ."

His eyes scanned the pages below. "That's right. . . the gravitational anomalies."

One of the Journals had "Fuel" written along the top, which was what they'd been searching for, but the heading of another Journal drew the eye much faster. "Gravitational Anomalies," it read.

"That's what happened," Ford said. He spoke in the far-off tone that he usually got when he was recollecting something. "Fidds was working on the portal when the first anomaly occurred. Gravity gradually lessened before swapping directions. Fidds was under the gauge, so he didn't have anywhere to go, but Lee and I ended up on the ceiling."

"Did it hurt?" Mabel asked in alarm.

"No, it was slow. We didn't go from full gravity pulling down to full gravity pulling up in an instant; in fact, we never got to full gravity pulling up. But it wasn't just the Museum where it happened — gravity was going crazy all over town." He gave a humorless laugh. "I'll bet the Order had a heyday with that one."

Right, the Order. Mabel almost wished she wasn't protected from them so that she could permanently forget about them. "Did you know about them back then?"

Ford shook his head. "No. I don't think I'd ever heard of them until you told me. They don't jog any memories the way details from my adventuring days usually do."

Mabel grimaced. Well, even if he hadn't ever heard of them, they were still responsible for him forgetting about Stanley. Fiddleford had shot him with a memory gun he'd made for the Order. Mabel didn't understand how Ford could talk so nonchalantly about his assistant — she'd be so mad that she wouldn't even be able to mention his name.

Ford had returned to reading the Journals, and Mabel did the same with a shake of her head to clear it. She wanted to read the invisible ink on all of them, but her eyes stayed on the Journal with the notes on the gravitational anomalies, reading through the entire page.

The portal is making gravity go crazy! So far it has only decreased or swapped directions for short periods of time, but I fear the results if it increases or changes direction for very long. What if it starts pulling people up at twice the usual strength and then suddenly changes to pulling people down at twice the usual strength? That would be disastrous! At any rate, I'm staying inside until the portal opens. Wouldn't do to be outside if or when something like that happens!

Notation:

1 g: normal gravity

.5 g: half of normal gravity

0 g: weightlessness

-1 g: normal gravity, but pulling up (pray this never happens for more than a few seconds at a time!)

I have no idea what to call it when gravity pulls sideways. /1 g? There have been all sorts of directions besides straight down and straight up, from north to west to a slight diagonal downward pull. When that happens, it makes a flat floor into a slope — very annoying!

"S-so. . . will it happen again?" Mabel asked. "When? Could it happen right now?"

Ford looked up, seemingly surprised at hearing her voice. "Hm? Oh, no, it wouldn't happen now. I expect it will happen again, but not until we get the fuel and start opening it."

"Start opening it?" She'd imagined it would just be all at once — they'd press a button or something, and it would just open.

"Yes. Once we get everything ready, refill the fuel, and instruct it to open, it won't open right away. I believe it was eighteen hours last time."

Mabel's heart sank. Eighteen hours? And that was after they somehow got the fuel. The Order could do so much to hurt them in that time. Heck, gravity could do so much to hurt them in that time.

Speaking of fuel. . . Mabel started to read the final Journal page under the glow of the black light pen.

"Wait — there's a UFO buried underneath the town?!" she exclaimed.

"Yes. . . and it appears that's where we got our fuel." Ford sighed. "Which means we'll have to go out to get it. Which means exposing ourselves to the Order."

Mabel thought of suggesting that they go under cover of darkness, but then she remembered Bill. Hard to trick your enemies when they had an ally that could see into everyone's mind.

. . . Everyone but Ford's.

"What if—"

She stopped herself. This could be even more dangerous.

"Yes?" Ford asked.

Mabel took a deep breath. "Well. . . if you went by yourself. . . Bill wouldn't know, right? Especially if you left at a random time without telling any of us when. Although. . . I guess he'd know as soon as we realized you were gone, so. . . and it'd be dangerous for you to go out alone, too. N-never mind." Why did she always say things like this before she thought them through?

Ford tilted his head. "I could stay down here for a while, make sure none of you see me, and then head out. But you're right, it'd be dangerous, probably foolish. If you don't know where I am, how could I possibly get help if I needed it? Especially with the phones down. I highly doubt Melody would let it happen, dream demon or no dream demon."

"Yeah. . ." Mabel looked down. "It was a dumb idea."

Ford blinked. "No, I think it was pretty logical. Either way, we'd have to run it by Melody, and she'd probably shoot it down. Well, at least we know what we need for fuel now. I'm going to finish checking everything over, and then we can go upstairs and talk to the others about what we found."

"O-okay."

Ford went back under the gauge, leaving Mabel alone with the Journals. She found the first one and started going over what she'd read so far with the black light pen. There wasn't much — apparently Ford hadn't started using invisible ink too often until later.

Mabel and Ford stayed down in the basement for the rest of the afternoon and evening, with Ford checking the machines and Mabel reading the first Journal. He still asked for it back occasionally, but not nearly as often as he did earlier. Mabel's mind kept returning to the gravitational anomalies, though — what would they feel like? Would she be able to handle it well? Would she be safe?

Her anxiety steadily rose throughout the remainder of the day, both about the anomalies and the fuel.

When Ford declared his inspection over and they went back upstairs, they found Dipper and Melody playing cards in the living room. "Oh good, I was just about to come looking for you two," Melody said. "I put dinner plates for you in the fridge — I hope you came up for some lunch earlier."

Mabel and Ford shared a guilty look. No, they hadn't. Mabel hadn't eaten anything since the toast this morning.

Melody caught the look and sighed. "Go eat. I can tell you have something to tell us, Ford, but I'm sure it can wait, seeing as you didn't come running upstairs in a panic."

Ford pursed his lip, but he did as she instructed. Mabel was already halfway to the kitchen. After the two had eaten, they went back out to the living room.

"So, what did you do down there?" Melody asked.

Ford sat on the couch. "Just maintenance checks. Everything is in pretty good shape — a couple things need repairs, but it's nothing a little duct tape can't fix, I don't think. Some cleaning is in order, too, but nothing too drastic."

Melody nodded slowly. Her eyes scanned Ford's face. "And?"

He sighed. "And it needs fuel. Fuel from Crash Site Omega."

"From where now?" asked Dipper.

"It's a UFO!" Mabel burst out. "There's a whole UFO under the town, and it has the fuel. We gotta go out and get it."

Melody looked at Ford in alarm. "Are you sure you don't have any laying around anywhere?"

"Even if I did, I doubt it would be enough. I can look, but there's not much hope. I think we'll have to go retrieve some more."

"And I'm guessing there's nowhere else to get this fuel," Melody said.

"There isn't," Ford confirmed. "It's otherworldly. And the moment we leave, Bill's going to know and tell the Order. Unless I go by myself."

"Not an option," Melody said immediately. She frowned. "Why would going by yourself stop him from knowing?"

Mabel glanced to Ford. Oh, right. They hadn't told Melody about the metal plate.

To Mabel's surprise, Ford actually looked embarrassed. "Well. . . I have some sort of metal plate in my head that keeps him out. I had no idea until Pacifica mentioned it offhand last night, but I've been starting to remember. . . . When I found out who Bill really was, I needed some way to keep him out. I was with the nymphs, I believe, and they offered to put a metal plate in my head. Said it would stop him from reading my thoughts or communicating with me — if it worked. Well, after a few hours of unconsciousness, I woke up with a metal plate in my head. After that, Bill never contacted me again."

"So if he went alone, Bill wouldn't know to send Order members," Mabel said. "Theoretically — the rest of our thoughts are still open, so he'd probably just find out from our minds instead of Ford's."

"Another reason to have company," Melody said. "We sent Mabel out alone last week, and look how that ended up."

Mabel shuddered.

"Fine," Ford said, sounding slightly annoyed. "Who do I take, then? I want you to stay here, Melody, and monitor the portal."

He glanced to Mabel, and she felt herself swell with pride. The Author of the Journals wanted her along.

But. . .

"Not Mabel," Melody said. "I'm sorry, sweetie, I know a UFO is exciting, but I can't bear to put you in danger again. Not after everything that's happened."

Rather than the indignation Melody was probably expecting, Mabel felt only relief. She badly wanted to go see the UFO, and she was bummed to miss out — but she also knew it was a bad idea. Her sense of self-preservation warred with her sense of adventure, and Melody was the tie-breaker. Having someone make the decision for her was a lot easier than making it herself and then regretting it.

"Okay," she said simply.

Both Melody and Ford looked surprised.

"You're right, I shouldn't put myself at risk on purpose," Mabel said. "Not when there are other options." She looked sideways at Ford. "Could. . . could you still take me to see the UFO, though? A-after all this is over?"

He composed his startled expression into a smile. "Of course."

"So. . . ," Dipper said, drawing everyone's attention, "that leaves me, then."

"So it does," Ford said. "Would you like to come?"

Dipper shrugged. "I'd rather it be me than Mabel. Not seeing a UFO," he hurried to add. "I'll tell you everything when we get back. But being in danger."

Mabel smiled, and she had to fight to keep it together. Love for her brother filled her to the point where she could barely speak. "Thanks, Dip," she whispered.

"I still don't like it," Melody said, "but it's our best option." She clapped her hands. "Okay, we had a late start this morning. If you want an early start tomorrow, and I'm guessing you do, we'd better get to bed."

Dipper started gathering up the cards. "Wow, you're a genius, Melody," he said with a facetious grin.

Ford rolled his eyes. "All you ever say to me is 'go to bed,'" he complained.

"If that was true, you'd think you would've started listening by now," Melody replied.

With some grumbling from Ford, Melody managed to shepherd her three charges to their rooms. Ten minutes later, Mabel and Dipper had gotten in pajamas and brushed their teeth, and they lay in their respective beds. "Night, Mabes," Dipper said before turning off the light.

"Night," Mabel murmured. She didn't go to sleep right away, though. Instead, she lay there in the dark, thinking. Her body wasn't quite tired enough to drop off to sleep, and she had lots of things to think about.

For one, her emotions were still at war over the UFO. Why shouldn't she go see a UFO?! That had always been her dream! Not her biggest dream, but still! Was she so much of a wuss that she wouldn't go adventuring just because there might be danger?

But then. . . she was hurt by Pacifica just last night. She didn't want to be dragged back to her custody again. And she could always go visit the UFO a different time, when there weren't such high stakes. Plus, Ford had said the gravitational anomalies wouldn't start yet, but she didn't want to be outside just in case they. . .

Oh.

Oh!

They forgot to tell Dipper and Melody about the gravitational anomalies!

"Dipper?" Mabel whispered into the darkness.

No response.

He must already be asleep. Well. . . she could always tell him in the morning, she supposed. It could wait until then. It could probably wait until after Ford and Dipper came back with the fuel. Still, she reminded herself to bring it up over and over so she wouldn't forget. They all needed to be ready.

The thought still terrified her. What would it feel like to be walking and then suddenly float into the air? What if she got stranded in the air because she didn't have anything to use to push herself? She'd read books set in space before. She'd always thought that the odd gravity was cool, but also scary. And now. . . now she'd be experiencing it herself. Experiencing something even scarier, because gravity could change at any time.

Even though she was warm in her bed, she shivered.

Go to sleep, Mabel, she told herself. They're not happening yet. You're okay. She tried to force herself to sleep, tried not to think about it. The only thing that worked was fantasizing about how cool Stan would be when he returned.

And when she dropped off to sleep, her nightmares were filled with Bill, as usual. But this time, he was torturing her by messing with the gravity.