Another illustration by  tanukibomb, of two characters you probably weren't expecting to see together, admit it.

Here's how it happened.

---

Ever since the initial encounter with Victor, a strange question plagued Emmet's mind.

Why do I feel like I know him?

He's an amoral, ignorant, violent wanderer, who achieved his powers completely by accident, and in all of that time what has he done with them? What has he built? He only takes and destroys. How could it be possible to feel a connection to that?

It's very simple, the logic went. You have something he lacks: the ability to move freely through time. He has something you lack: a seeming form of immortality. What happens when the two are combined? The lock and the key always know each other.

Whatever Emmet's intuitions, the fact remained that nothing in the universe required the two of them to be enemies. Victor may have left a trail of bodies in his centuries-long wake, but he was still not a monster. He was merely something not yet understood.

When you don't understand something, you study it. When that something is a rational being, you talk to it.

As long as a line of communication was open, there was hope that Victor's mysteries may be solved. But how to establish that line?

The modifications Emmet made to the NECESSITY's time drive were the most extensive since it was first constructed. Rather than utilizing a specific time delta, Emmet trained its target sensors on Victor's tachyonic signature—the same signature that alerted the wombat to his existence in the first place. Once the new mode was engaged, the timeship would focus in on wherever and whenever that signal was the strongest.

The only problem was that it was impossible to predict the time period that the signal spike would pull the ship towards. He guessed it would be the era he last encountered him in, since it already contained his ship's own residue. But it could just as easily be the day of Victor's birth, or his first usage of the Cube.

You could weaponize this, a stray thought muttered. You could turn the NECESSITY into a Victor-seeking missile, if you needed to.

The wombat stashed the thought away. He built tools, not weapons. Regardless, he had no idea whether this modification would even work, which is why he decided not to take Sully along on this mission.

After he finished his diagnostics and made his final preparations, Emmet stood for a moment before the NECESSITY's entry ramp. "Give me an ocean, wide and free..."

Sully wasn't here, so he recited the second part himself.

"...and a true ship with which to sail it."

---

At first Emmet thought the NECESSITY's master chronometer was faulty. The post-landing delta read as practically zero. No jump.

He'd hoped to arrive back in the Arizona Territory. He'd landed in a desert, that much was certain, but unless this was the Mojave he was far off target. It was a place of sweeping dunes and distant mountains, dimly visible through blowing sand.

He was also completely alone. Part of him was grateful there was no big cat here to greet him. He was happy enough he'd survived the journey here in one piece.

The question was: where and when was here?

Still within the cockpit, Emmet calibrated his tachyometer by pointing it at himself. He registered on the device only weakly, another sign that he'd barely jumped through time at all. But that made no sense. The amount of vinegar consumed by the NECESSITY suggested he'd jumped very far indeed!

He ultimately decided he was in no mood to conduct a lengthy search if Victor was not close by. Just some basic readings and then a jump home to analyze what had gone wrong. Taking only the tachyometer and one of the modified phase distorters with him (just in case things turned ugly), the inventor set off across the sand in the direction that the meter's readings were strongest.

The dust was thicker than he anticipated. Emmet affixed his goggles to his face and pulled his scarf up over his snout, turning around to make sure the NECESSITY's beacon was still active. He didn't want to get separated from it in these conditions. He luckily didn't have to journey far before he found the place the meter was drawing him towards. Just over the next dune was a deep depression: a pit dug out from the sand, with clear signs of manmade tool usage.

It had the look of an archaeological site. Sandstone pillars rose up from its basin, interspersed with pieces of carved rubble: a collapsed roof. However far back in time he'd gone, this place was more ancient than even that. A long-ruined temple, perhaps. Emmet took the liberty of descending via a rope ladder helpfully left behind by whoever had come before.

The meter's readings only got stronger as he advanced through the ruins. Was it possible that the whole structure was temporally displaced? He analyzed one of the columns to make sure. It seemed to belong to this time, but when was this time?

There were carvings on the pillar. Images of strange, lizard-like beasts that Emmet couldn't identify. Perhaps they were depictions of the deities of whatever civilization built this place.

You are not an archaeologist! the wombat's brain chided him. Get a move on!

So he did, weaving through the rubble until finally he came upon a piece of a wall jutting up behind a cracked and broken stone altar.

The frenzied beeping from the tachyometer at first distracted Emmet from what he was looking at.

The wall was ornately carved, its face dominated by a looping arc that resembled a capital Greek Omega. Contained within the arc was a downwards-pointing triangle, emitting carved rays of light in all directions. Hovering above the Omega was what seemed like an open, lidless eye, emitting its own rays pointing downwards. Four unadorned orbs traced out another arc beneath the image.

This was the actual source of the signal that pulled the NECESSITY here, not Victor. Emmet had no explanation for how or why, but a large source of bosonic vinegar had recently passed—or would soon pass—through this very spot.

How could that be possible? Emmet possessed the only bosonic vinegar known to exist. Well, he and Victor did, but Victor's supply ultimately came from him, and certainly Victor's stolen fuel cube couldn't leave this much residue behind.

And still the overarching mystery: where the bloody hell am I?

---

Emmet switched the tachyometer off and fastened it to his belt. He'd need to return here with more sensitive instruments to get any real answers. With the meter's wretched beeping finally silenced, the only sound he could hear was the low moan of the desert wind above him.

And something loudly snoring.

He deftly pivoted to face its source. A lone figure lay slumped against a pile of crates stacked up near one of the pillars. Emmet had been so absorbed in his search that he'd passed right by it without noticing. He lifted his goggles and squinted, but couldn't quite make sense of what he was seeing. It was alive, to be sure, but didn't have the shape of an anthro. Was it a beast of some sort?

No, it was wearing clothing—well, not so much clothing as a mixed array of belts and pouches. A tool-user, or in other words, a person. If this was really an archaeological dig site, maybe this was one of the workers, if not the archaeologist? It wore a broad-brimmed hat that was tipped over its snout, preventing Emmet from getting any clear look at its face.

He tiptoed closer, careful not to make any sound that might disturb it, making mental notes as the entity's form came into sharper focus. Bipedal. Long tail. Claws. Feathers. What was it?

As he drew nearer, he gradually realized there was little risk it would wake. A bottle lay in the dirt beside it. Yanking the rag down from his face, Emmet gingerly bent down and picked it up, sniffing the rim. Although empty, a strong alcohol odor assaulted his nostrils, which also emanated from the creature itself. That was the cause of its deep slumber, then.

All the while, a picture of what this thing actually was began to solidify in the wombat's mind. He held the final conclusion at bay, subconsciously realizing what accepting it might make him do. He did it anyway. With the creature out cold in an alcoholic stupor, he could venture ever so gently lifting up its hat brim to witness...

---

Emmet froze: an instinctual wombat response when faced with sudden peril.

He saw the face, and the shape of the skull, just long enough that the conclusion he'd stashed away sprang roaring at him from its mental filing cabinet.

Velociraptor mongoliensis.

He mouthed the words silently, repeating them in an effort to stave off denial.

The raptor kept on snoring, not even flinching at Emmet's intrusion in its personal space.

Emmet didn't dare budge. He remained bolted to the spot, but now it was out of more than sheer instinct. The logic gears were beginning to turn. Of course it was impossible for the NECESSITY to jump back... 66+ million years to the Cretaceous period. He'd need an ocean of bosonic vinegar for that kind of trip! But here it was—a dinosaur.

Granted, a dinosaur that wore apparel. A dinosaur that guzzled booze. But a dinosaur nonetheless, and that meant one thing: Emmet was in terrible, nigh-inconceivable danger! This far back in time, he need only step on the wrong insect and his entire world, the whole present he knew and everyone in it, could vanish in an instant! Good gods, even an errant footprint left behind may...

Footprints! Emmet looked about him. Protected from the desert winds, the ground betwixt the columns was full of them. Three-toed, theropod footprints... and his own paw marks.

I have to get back to the ship!

As he started away, the raptor's snoring suddenly ceased, replaced with a barrage of snorting and hacking coughs.

Emmet froze in place again as the stirring raptor busied itself with scratching its hide and heaving itself into a more comfortable posture. Slumping back, it promptly dozed off again, snoring even more vigorously.

Good dino. You enjoy your nap. I'll just take my leave.

He should have turned around before he took the next step. If he had, he would have seen the overturned shovel which he tripped over and sent clanking across the dirt.

The raptor's snoring halted again, and this time a single yellow eye peered out at Emmet from the shadow of its hat brim.

The awakened raptor threw its head back and squawked to the heavens. "Henry! HEN-RY! I reckon I done found us one o' them cryp-tids! You want I should try throwin' it in that portal thingy?"

When no instruction from "Henry" was forthcoming, the raptor belched, dropped its head, and was apparently content to nod off again before another coughing fit jolted it firmly awake. It next examined the bottle that Emmet had picked up, checking it thoroughly for any remaining drops. Its rather rigid facial structure didn't allow for rich displays of emotion, but the aggrieved frustration of a boozer denied his nectar was palpable in any era.

Just as recognizable in any era was the six-chambered revolver he produced from the ground next to him. This dinosaur was eager to take out his frustration.

"Hol' still ye mangy mammal."

Naturally Emmet did not hold still. Fortunately alcohol impaired the marksmanship of dinosaurs at least as much as mammals. The raptor couldn't see straight, let alone aim at anything.

There was certainly no point in pushing that luck. Emmet ran as fast as his stubby legs would carry him back to the rope ladder. Behind him, the raptor, seeing his own luck fading, struggled with his uncoordinated limbs to get himself standing, to no avail—he immediately swayed and stumbled, face-planting on the ground as his gun accidentally discharged.

This last shot was nearly dead on. The bullet went whizzing past Emmet's foot as he clambered out of the pit and onto the sands above, then went scrambling in the direction of the NECESSITY and its flashing beacon light.

"Dinosaurs!" Emmet panted as he ran. "Dinosaurs that use firearms. Dinosaurs that speak English! That's more than enough data points for one day!"

Back aboard the NECESSITY, Emmet shut and sealed the hatches, fired up the fuel injectors, manually keyed in the coordinates for home, and crossed his fingers that it there'd still be a home waiting for him when he got back.

"Give me an ocean wide and free—"

In a flash of blue light, the timeship disappeared.

---

Minutes later, Emmet chanced looking out the window through the gaps in his claws.

The lab! It was still there! It wasn't butterfly effected out of existence!

Breathing the heaviest sigh of relief he ever had, the marsupial inventor suddenly found himself unable to breathe at all. Something had its scaly hands wrapped around his throat.

Unholstering his distorter pistol, the exhausted wombat thrust it over his shoulder with all the force he could muster. Apparently it connected, as the unknown entity released its grip on him with a pained groan.

Emmet only caught the briefest glimpse of a large supine figure as he scrambled out of the ship. The distorter would be his salvation now, but he wouldn't dare, under any circumstances, risk firing it while still aboard the NECESSITY. There was no telling what might happen if the beam hit one of its components!

Backing away from the drop hatch, Emmet spied the glint of yet another revolver as he ducked out of the way just in time. This creature's aim was more confident than the last one's. It fired off two shots as Emmet darted in every direction he could think of before finally taking cover behind a tool cart.

The being that emerged from the ship was also bipedal, but walked upright. It was fully clothed, its face also shadowed by a wide-brimmed hat. It was only when the intruder reached the base of the ramp that Emmet saw that its body kept going—dragged behind it was a long tail which terminated in a bony, bilobed club.

That tail alone caused Emmet to make another species connection. The face that became visible in the light of the launch chamber only confirmed it.

Ankylosaurus magniventris. An anthro one. Anthro dinosaurs especially did not make sense!

Emmet ducked just as it turned its head in his direction. The lack of further gunfire suggested it was either out of ammunition or, just perhaps, was a rational being that didn't need to kill to make its voice heard.

"I don't wanna fight you," it called out in a gravely voice. "Let's you an' me talk business an' there'll be no need for puttin' slugs in each other."

Good! Emmet thought. He can reason. And he thinks my pistol is an ordinary weapon like his. He still wasn't going to take any chances.

"Let me guess!" Emmet yelled back from his hiding spot. "You're Henry?"

"Last I checked. Now let me guess." echoed the ankylosaur. "You're an Omega Emissary!" He seemed to moving in Emmet's direction, slowly. "Is this what your kind calls home, then? This where you hold court?"

What was he talking about? "Emissary? No, my names Emmet. Em-met. And this is my home. What brings you to it?"

"Henry" kept on his slow approach towards the cart. "Truth be told, I could rightly ask you the same thing. I seen more'n my fair share o' you talkin' mammals lately, infestin' my claims, interferin' with my work. I'm here to talk compensation."

Emmet swallowed with difficulty. His throat was throbbing, his lungs burned. But all he needed to do was land one shot. "Other mammals? You've encountered more of us?"

"Don't play dumb, 'Emmet.' I been keepin' tabs on yer kinds' operations. It's a terrible crime, stealin' dinosaur eggs. I oughtta drag ya back with me an' turn ya in. Sadly the law don't allow fer puttin' bounties on mythical beasts. But how about you show me where the rest of you types is hidin', an' I take things from there."

"There are a lot of us 'types'," Emmet muttered as he charged the distorter to full strength. "But as an, er, Emissary, I'm more than capable of speaking on their behalf. If you have a dispute with a mammal, you have with me, alone."

Henry was now directly overhead. "Works for me. I only need to bag one of you to make a damned fortune!"

Now!

Emmet sprang up out of hiding. One shot was all he needed, and Henry made for a big target. He took aim and fired.

It accomplished precisely nothing.

An aura of electricity crackled across the ankylosaur's body, but all he did was grin. "Was that supposed to hurt?" He wheeled about, swishing his tail. "Looks like I won't be needin' bullets after all." Bringing down his tail club in one feel swoop, he smashed the cart into scrap.

Emmet's brain screamed at him as he ran away. He's not from this era! The pistol should have disrupted all synaptic activity in his brain! It should have turned him into a quivering heap on the ground!

Wait... The details clicked. No, it shouldn't have. He's not from the past, because I didn't go back in time! I went sideways! That was a parallel universe!

Of all the times for the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle to snap together: with the creature depicted on it about to shatter all your bones. Henry stood there, his tail swishing menacingly behind him as if he was charging up for a roundhouse swipe. All Emmet could do was cower on the floor, showing his backside in the hope that it could take a blow from a tail club better than the cart did.

But the blow didn't come. The ankylosaur fell flat on the ground with a loud thud.

Still crouched, the wombat glanced up at the welcome figure of a ferret holding a fire extinguisher.

"Heard there was a ruckus," grinned Sully. "What'd I miss?"

---

Emmet deferred his explanation. He couldn't adequately explain it to himself anyway.

Jumping to a parallel universe should have been no less impossible than jumping to the Cretaceous. According to Emmet's own math, true, physically traversable parallel universes shouldn't even exist, let alone be jumpable!

But he'd check his computations another day. With Sully's help (and a good deal of strain on his already overtaxed back), Emmet dragged Henry's unconscious body to a specimen containment cell up on Sublevel 4. When he eventually woke up from Sully's bonking he'd find himself in comfortable yet quite inescapable confinement.

Quarantining the ankylosaur was for more than just his and Sully's physical protection: it was for the protection of the entire planet. Bad math or not, Henry had come here from a disconnected timespace, and hence was liable to be carrying a disconnected timespace's germs. Emmet could only hope he hadn't already come down with a civilization-ending infection.

In any event, it seemed to him that Sully had more than earned a day off, and so the wombat sent his assistant home—and sent himself off to bed. With the dinosaur locked behind bulletproof glass and Sully safely off premises, the wombat could rest easily.

After today, he needed a lot of rest.

---

Sully knew that his boss had just told him, in the nicest way possible, to get lost. The sort of "get lost" that means "don't come back until I've figured out how to fully secure the thing you shouldn't play with under any circumstances, do you hear me? The universe depends on it."

Sully had no intention of playing with the dinosaur. He also had no intention of staying in the Burrow. But there was the short way out, and there were longer ways.

This particular longer way just happened to take him through Sublevel 4.

The hulking ankylosaur immediately perked up when he saw Sully enter. Technically this was the first time he had seen Sully at all, and there was really no way to tell from listening to him that he was anything other than a perfect gentleman.

"How do yo do?" He bowed, removing his hat with a flourish. "Name's Henry. Explorer and collector of fine antiquities. And who has been so kind as to pay me this visit?"

Sully had to instruct every fiber of his being not to do a little dance—a particular dance of ferrets which Sully already took pains not to execute in public. "Marcus Bradley O'Sullivan." He did his own polite little bow. "Everyone calls me Sully."

"Well then, a pleasure t' make yer acquaintance, Sully. Might I add, you got an entirely different manner from that other mammal. In fact," he added as he sidled closer to the glass, "I wager you ain't like him at all. In my line of work ya learn ta read people. Yer an honest, hard-workin' fella, just like me. So, bein' an honest fella... you wouldn't be comfortable lettin' a poor ol' dino who ain't committed no crime rot in this cell, would ya?"

Henry dug a scaly hand into his coat pocket and withdrew several gold coins. "Ah, catch yer eye, don't they? I got heaps more of 'em back home. If you can see to lettin' me outta this place, you can have as many as ya want! Ya know, you remind me of my partner. He's got a nose fer profitable opportunities. So whaddaya say? Be a smart lad now."

In truth, Sully wasn't even looking at the shiny coins.

In truth, it became clear to him in that moment that working for Emmet was the best thing that ever happened to him. He went back in time, had a real wild west adventure, and now here he was talking to a freakin' dinosaur!