It’s midday when Landon spots the Libra.
Technically, Ziggy finds it first. She sits at the top of a dune and barks, runs around in circles while she waits for him and Sendo. She’s so animated, so excited that he already knows what she’s found before he sees it, and fire surges through his legs as he marches up to meet her.
The ship is right where they’d left it.
Landon laughs. He stands atop sand and stone and laughs for all to hear. ‘Of course it’s still here,’ he thinks. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he removes the bag from his back and dishes out some water with shaking hands. ‘Where would it go?’
No one answers.
He unscrews the top on his bottle and takes a large swig. “Alright,” he says. Both Sendo and Ziggy look his way. “After we pack up, we head down to the Libra.” Both of them nod. “But be careful, okay? We need to keep our eyes peeled for anyone that isn’t Sam, and if we see anyone in goofy white outfits, we dip.”
Sendo takes the bag once it’s been filled and balances it on his head in the same awkward way as always; Ziggy turns back down to the Libra and starts her long walk in the front; Landon simply sighs, cracks his knuckles, and brings a hand up to wipe some of the sweat from his brow. It’s hot, today. Hotter than any day since his arrival. The sun beams down from above, and without any wind to cut the heat, the day swelters.
Landon doesn’t mind. While the heat sucks, he thinks he’s had enough wind for one lifetime. ‘If I had to choose between rowing out at sea, and seeing another Tyrannitar,’ he thinks. He rotates his shoulders and huffs when they crack.
‘I’ll take my chances on the open water, thank you.’
Three hours pass like nothing. They inch ever closer to the Libra, and it goes from being a small dot on the horizon to the largest, most unnatural landmark nearby. Ziggy is eager. Every time she looks back at him, pushes for him to go a bit faster, her constant smile sparkles. She wants to see Sam. And although Landon plans to honor their promise, to go as far as he can in order to save the old man, his heart still twists.
After all, this could be their last time together.
He doesn’t dwell on it. No point in stressing over something he can’t change. Landon rolls his jaw, removes his hat, and runs a hand through his greasy, unwashed hair.
If Ziggy is eager, Sendo’s eyes blaze. Before, he’d watched the backpack, annoyed that Landon insisted on carrying the thing. Now? He stares, and all the simmering rage that lurks beneath the surface gives way to an almost childlike wonder. ‘He’s never seen something like this,’ Landon thinks, a small smile tugging at his lips. ‘Sendo has probably lived in that grove his entire life. Now, he gets to explore the world.’ Landon cracks his knuckles, waves back at Sendo, and keeps pace towards the tanker.
Honestly, their return is a little bittersweet. Landon exhales as he walks into the shadow of the ship and rubs his neck. As great as it is to be back, as hard as everything has been, this is fleeting. Their journey, far from over, waits.
The sinking, drowning feeling returns. His stomach rolls. ‘How long until Cipher shows up?’ Landon thinks. ‘How long do we have until Phenac City?’ A part of their journey comes to a close, sure, yet it’s barely the opening act. A small piece of him whispers in his ear, tells him they still have a long way to, and laughs at him.
Landon listens.
But he doesn’t break focus. He keeps his eyes ahead as he steps over the last bit of sand and stomps into the hole of the damaged hull. Everything seems close enough to what he remembers. If before there had been some stray sand, now there’s almost a foot of it in most spots, and the boxes are covered as well.
“Home sweet home,” he says, pulls his mask down around his neck. Landon reaches up, removes his hat (if ma’ caught him with it on inside, she’d tan his hide) and clips the leather band to a strap on his bag.
He takes a second to adjust his collar. “Alright guys,” he says. “We’re gonna go meet up with Sam first, then we’ll take a couple days to prepare for the trip south.” Ziggy and Sendo look at him. Both agree. “Ziggy,” he starts, almost swallowing his words when she stares at him with those big, goofy eyes. He sighs, leans over and strokes her fur. “Spend some time with the old man, okay? We don’t know when we’ll see him next.”
Ziggy whines, but she still leans into him. He stands, dusts his hands off, and the two of them follow him further into the ship. They go through most of the hull, past the mud-sink, and climb the many flights of stairs to the upper deck.
He’s used to it. Ziggy similarly doesn’t seem to care. But Sendo runs to the side and stares out at the rest of the world. It’s an amazing view. With the sun closer to its zenith than the horizon, it’s easy to see for miles: the dunes, ever shifting, rise and fall, weathered, gray stone pillars erupt from the ground like craggy fingers that reach to the sky, and small dots of life spackle the landscape. Sometimes it’s a tree, living despite the odds; sometimes it’s a pokemon, moving or hunting or basking in the desert sun that gives them strength.
Landon takes a moment to take it all in. He leans over the rail that Sendo balances on and watches the world with his pokemon. Bringing one hand up, he rubs the top of Sendo’s head, but he doesn’t say a word.
He just enjoys the moment.
They stay like that for a bit. But Ziggy has a need too, and she huffs when he laughs at her excitement. “C’mon girl, let’s get you to Sam.” She wags her tail and barks in response. Sendo keeps staring out at the desert for a second before he turns and hops down.
Making their way across the rest of the ship, Landon glances down to check his watch. ‘It’s already three.’ He hums. ‘I guess Sendo and I can go grab a bite while Ziggy does her thing,’ he thinks. It takes a while to walk around the side of the superstructure, but there isn’t a problem getting into accommodations. Landon follows Ziggy down the same path she led him when they met -- through the corridor, up the stairs, past the cleaned up light-fixture -- but instead of going all the way up to communications, she takes a turn at the captain’s quarters.
Landon rasps his knuckles against the door.
“Sam, it’s us,” he says. There’s some shuffling behind the door. “We just got back, and we’ll be around for a couple of days.” He pauses, a grin cuts across his face. “You got enough clothes on for us to come in?”
He hears a curse from the other side of the door, some shuffling, and a response. “Fuckin’ get in here,” Sam calls back. “I’m just puttin’ my leg on!”
Landon reaches for the knob. Ziggy wiggles her way inside when he cracks the door, jumps up onto the bed in the corner with Sam, and starts tip-tapping on the covers. “It’s good to see you, girl,” Sam says. He tilts her head up and rubs under her chin. “Hope you did something worth doing, and you didn’t just waste time like I said you would.” He glances back at Landon, notices Sendo, and his beard shifts with his smile. “Well, I’ll be… good to see you’re not completely hopeless.”
Landon grumbles and walks into the room before tossing his bag by the door. “You talk a lot of trash for an old man that sits in the AC all day,” he says, although his words lack heat. His smile still tugs at his lips as he sits in the desk-chair next to the dresser. “Do you ever even go anywhere outside of the canteen?”
Sam huffs: one of those strange sounds that old people make that’s almost a laugh yet isn’t. With deft hands, he affixes his leg to his joint, snaps it into place. “The young always think they’re so funny,” he laments. “We’ve got comedians starving in the streets and here you are crackin’ jokes.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Landon says and slaps his knee. “You got the entire squad laughing.” He leans back and glances out the porthole above the desk. “But yeah, we have a new partner. Sendo, say hi.”
Sendo doesn’t say hi. He stares, his brow twitches, and his fingers clench and unclench into half-made fists.
“Why don’t you tell me all about your trip over a bite to eat?”
Sam pushes himself up to stand. Ziggy hops down next to him and runs between his legs. “You were making fun of me for going to the canteen, but you lot look as hungry as can be. Let’s get going.”
Landon hums. “Sure,” he says. Without missing a beat, he rolls out of the chair, and holds his arm out to Sendo, who climbs up it and hangs off his shoulder. “Lead the way.”
Sam barks out a sharp laugh and does just that. “Don’t worry, it’ll be my treat.”
As they make their way through the hall, Landon walks a couple of paces behind Sam. He’s never watched someone with a prosthetic move before, and at first, he doesn’t think it’s that different. Sam’s steps are a little slow. But outside of his pace, it looks almost natural. Sure, there’s some awkward shuffle, but that could just be his old age.
Landon realizes how wrong that is when they get to the stairs.
It’s awkward to watch. He offers Sam an arm at first, but the old man ignores him. “I’ve been climbing up stairs for twenty years without a leg, you think I waited around for some young shit every time?” Sam huffs. Putting his body weight toward the rail, he grabs on and walks up sideways -- one step at a time. He stops halfway up, looks back to Landon, and smacks his fake leg. “It ain’t perfect, but it gets the job done.”
“I try to do some community service and get shot over it.” Landon shakes his head and follows. “See what happens the next time you need to cross the street, old man.” He tsks, sticks his hands in his pockets. “I hope there’s no one there to help your sorry ass.” He hears Sam chuckle before he starts his climb again.
Landon breathes in. Counts to ten. Exhales.
There’s no way Sam could make it to Pheanc.
It’s an errant thought, but not one he hadn’t considered before. Even discounting the mountains they’d scaled, the ever changing, steep shape of the dunes would’ve made it impossible for Sam to traverse them. As much as Landon relied on Sam and Ziggy, he realizes Sam didn’t lie about help running both ways.
Old age aside, Sam could never make the trek south.
Landon doesn’t voice those thoughts. He follows Sam to the mess, gets to help in the kitchen, and talks his way through their week-long excursion. He gets called a shitty storyteller twice, and takes pointers from Sam in stride as he listens to the old man regale him with Landon’s own story -- but with dubious details. Everything might’ve been off, but it doesn’t matter much. He has an easy smile on his face when he slides some food to Ziggy, and an easier laugh bubbles from his lips when Sendo squawks and balks at being ignored.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Listening to Sam? That’s the easiest part of all.
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The gym in the Libra impresses. At least, as far as ships go. It’s good enough to break a sweat. Good enough to make muscles ache, good enough to make arms shake. And between the weights, the bar and the bag, Landon’s sure he could stay here and let out steam until his knuckles bleed and he could barely breathe.
“Welcome to the pit, Sendo,” he says, bends over and sighs when his hips pop. “We’re going to go through some free weights. Those, the bench, and maybe some machines, too. Mainly I’m just trying to get a feel for where you’re at.”
Landon pauses and picks at his chin. “We can figure out where to go from there.”
Sendo doesn’t respond. He stares at the weights that line the racks against the wall. Landon inhales, lets the musk and metal fill his lungs, and walks over to the mat with the free weights. “Come on over, Sendo. Let me show you what I want you to do.”
He picks up two of the dumbbells. Thirty-five pounds. Heavy, but not unreasonable.
Landon breathes in. He levels the weights at his side, curls the first up to his chest, and counts to ten. He lowers it back down. Exhales. Stopping after ten reps, he turns back to Sendo who watches him with a furrowed brow and a crinkled nose. “Listen, we’re not here to get shredded or anything. We’ve got three days before we leave; we just need a good idea of what you can do.” He grubs when he drops weights.
When he glances back at Sendo, he feels silly. “This isn’t going to work,” he says, and Sendo looks at him like he’s stupid. The mankey holds up his hands. That are attached to his arms. That are twice as long as his short, squat body.
“I’m sorry, buddy. I just realized.” Landon sighs. “Your arms are too long for you to be able to do this.” He rolls his neck and listens to it crack.
“Let’s get you on the bench, instead.”
Landon walks past a couple of cardio machines -- ‘no way in hell am I running right now, thank you very much’ -- and stops at the flat-back bench press. “Okay, this is what we’re going to use instead,” he says, voice still a touch sheepish. He takes a second, adds a fifty pound weight to both sides of the bar. “I’ll go through a rep, show you how it works, then you’ll go through a rep. We’ll adjust the weight for you as needed and find your sweet spot for some sets.”
Sendo nods. Landon shimmies his way onto the bench with his back flat and props his hands against the bar. He’s never been great at this. But the entire time, he thinks about his elbows and tries to keep his form perfect.
Landon breathes in. Counts to ten. Exhales.
He places the bar back into the rack. “Alright,” he says between soft breaths. “The bar should be forty-five pounds, so right now it’s about one-fifty total. I’ll spot you in case it’s awkward for your longer reach, but based on what I’ve seen from you so far, you shouldn’t have any trouble lifting this.”
Adjusting the bar and seat, Landon gestures for Sendo to take the bench. “Breathe in,” he says and gets ready to spot. “Bring it down, first. Then lift it all the way up.” Sendo listens, and the bar comes up high enough that Landon has to step back. The Mankey’s arm span amazes him. “Okay, drop it down slowly, and while you do, exhale.” Sendo brings the weight back to his chest.
“Good, now we rack it,” Landon says, guides the bar back up. When everything is said and done, he takes a knee and puts a hand on Sendo’s back. The pokemon seems more contemplative than angry as it stares -- from the bar, to its hands, and back again. “I can probably fudge one-eighty to two-hundred before it gets to be too much. But I know my limits, and right now we’re here for you.”
Landon sighs and scratches the back of his head. “So, how much do you think we can add?”
Sendo points to the rack. “You can lift the entire thing?” Landon forgets to breathe until Sendo shakes his head. “You want to try to lift the entire thing?” This time, a nod. Landon chuckles. “Alright, but we go in increments of fifty pounds. If for no other reason than the heart attack you almost gave me. Now, lay back down and let me adjust the weight.”
Eight hundred pounds. Between the two hundred pounds he’s added to the bar, and the six hundred on the rack, they start a gauntlet to get through eight hundred pounds.
The first two hundred go quick enough. Sendo goes through them like a hot knife through butter. Landon feels a bit awkward spotting for amounts that are about to climb higher than his peak, but he ignores the feeling. He snorts when the bar lands back into the hold. ‘No use being bent,’ he thinks.
‘We’re just getting started.’
Two hundred becomes two-fifty. Then two-fifty, three. Between the bar and the weights and his sweat, Sendo pushes against the bar, struggles to lift three hundred and fifty pounds. His face red, arms trembling -- the bar rises.
“C’mon buddy,” Landon whispers. “You’ve got this.” He worries his bottom lip and rubs his tongue against it.
“I believe in you.”
The bar rises.
Sendo screeches. It’s a war-cry the entire desert hears. His elbows lock, and he huffs as his arms come straight over his shoulders. Landon helps guide the barbell back into the rack with a grin. With shaking hands, he pats Sendo on the shoulder and takes a second to let his friend catch his breath. After a second, he grabs the water bottle he had on the floor, and passes it over.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” Sendo glances at him, but he doesn’t put the bottle down. “I’m serious. Despite being two-foot tall, you just shotgunned almost twice my body weight.”
Landon says nothing else. ‘It’d probably be patronizing,’ he thinks. So instead, he pulls Sendo close against him and waits for his friend's breaths to slow and his heart to calm. After a couple of minutes, he stands and offers a lopsided grin.
“Wanna try out the leg press next?”
----------------------------------------
A day passes. Landon goes through the ship from top to bottom, looking for anything they can use. It’s a song and dance he’s done before. But this time, instead of general hunting, he has his eyes on one thing in particular -- even if he stops and grabs anything that seems remotely useful.
He picks up a multi tool and flips it over. Even though he already has a good knife, there’s a chance he could use something like this, and it doesn’t weigh too much. As nice as it is, though, it wasn’t his goal.
The ten gallon water jug in front of him is a different story.
It looks just like the Gatorade containers he remembers from his childhood sports days. It’s stout, made of thick navy-blue plastic, and it has a screw on top that’s sturdy enough to prevent any slipping. A minimalist print of a Spheal replaces the big lightning-bolt ‘G’ on the front. There are no other markings.
“Alright Spheal energy drinks, let’s see if I can use you.”
He picks the cooler up and makes his way out of the gym closet. He whistles for Sendo, who turns away from the punching-bag and makes his way over. “Alright, bud,” he says as he drops the cooler. “This is what we’re going to fill for you. I’m going to be carrying the bag from now on, and we’re going to top this off for you to tote.”
Sendo looks ready to argue. Like a living teapot about to boil over. “Hold on, buddy. I know that you’ve been helping a lot with the heavy lifting so far, but think about it like this: my bag is just as much training for me as this cooler is gonna be for you.” The twisted rictus of rage that is Sendo’s face uncoils, even if only a little. “I’ll be toting forty plus pounds at any time. We talked about peaks in the gym yesterday, but that’s about all I can handle out there. We’ll have to stop every couple of hours for a break anyways, and as much as it’s gonna suck ass, I’ll do it.”
Landon takes a breath, crouches down, and rubs the top of Sendo’s head. “This cooler will weigh double that. We’ll get some straps on it in a second so that you can adjust it for arms or back or whatever you need to work on, and you’ll be carrying it for ten hours a day. Fuck it, we’ll even get an adjustable bag on top of it so that you can carry some food. That way, we’ll be able to get you to one-hundred pounds of tote.”
Landon grins and stands. He hands the cooler to Sendo who takes it with both hands. Placing the multi-tool in his pocket, Landon makes his way back to the cabin he’s shacked up in so that he can start on the cooler.
“I’m not ever going to be as strong as you, y’know?” Landon turns to look at Sendo who stares up at him. “I’ve never been a gym rat, a protein junky, or any of that shit before. There’s no way I can match a fighting type, but it’s important for me to try my hardest.” He rubs a hand over his neck in a slow, drawn out motion.
“And it’s important for me to support you.”
Landon sighs. “Being alone sucks ass,” he says without looking back. “It doesn’t matter if it’s work, a hobby, or something in-between. Even if I can’t ever lift what you lift, press what you press -- it doesn’t matter.” A smile pulls at his lips. “I’ll always work to get stronger so that you have someone to share with.”
“Whether it’s the pain or the gain, I’m here for you, Sendo.”
He doesn’t say anything else. ‘God,’ he thinks. ‘I’m cringe as hell, spouting shit like an anime character.’ Landon breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth, and opens the door to his cabin. Turning to let Sendo through, he tries his hardest not to make a sound at what he sees.
Sendo carries the cooler with his tail. It’s cool, and it frees up his hands… so that he can wipe away the tears that spill furiously down his cheeks. His pig nose has a long trail of snot running down it that he hasn’t gotten to.
Landon wants to laugh. He really, really wants to laugh. He wants to laugh so bad that he’s bitten into his cheek hard enough that the taste of iron floods his mouth. Sendo passes by into the room. Landon follows.
He grabs a roll of paper towels and tosses it to his friend. “You’ve got something right here,” he says, points to just under his nose.
He doesn’t laugh, but he can’t stop the goofy grin that splits his face when Sendo yells and slams his hands on the floor.
----------------------------------------
“You’re headed out tomorrow.”
Landon turns from the supplies he’s sorting to Sam. The old man stands in the doorway of the medical office and leans against the frame. “Yeah, we’re leaving before the sun rises. Now that I’ve got Sendo kitted out and we have more storage, I think we have a good shot.”
Sam hums, walks into the room, and sits in the waiting chair next to the patient bed. “You already have a destination in mind,” he says. It’s a statement, not an accusation. “What direction are you heading?”
Landon puts one of the two hyper potions he’d raided from a supply closet into the medical bag. He tucks the other into Sendo’s equipment -- in-case something happens. “We’re headed south.” Turning, Landon looks Sam in the eye.
“We need to get to Phenac city.”
Sam breathes in through his nose, loud enough to break the silence that hadn’t quite settled. “That’s not a gamble you’d make without confidence,” he says, brings a hand up to his face, and rakes through his beard. “You know where we are. You’ve always known, haven’t you?”
“Yeah.”
Landon turns back towards his equipment. He puts the multi-tool in a side compartment with the paracord. It takes a second for him to reach across the counter-top to grab the hard-tack he’d made this morning, and he places the bag of it into another compartment for emergency rations.
Sam grunts and shifts in his chair. “Then tell me about it, brat. You do way too much talking to get all quiet now.”
“We’re in the northern Orre mountain range,” Landon replies while taking one last leaf through his bag. “The only things we can reach -- in any normal cardinal direction, at least -- are Snagem’s base in the east and Cipher’s lab in the north. Admittedly, I might be forgetting something, but that’s what I recall.” He snorts. “Or we can go south to Phenac. The choice isn’t hard.”
“See, there you go,” Sam says, chuckles, and ignores a large chunk of what he’d just heard. “You talk far too much to stop right now.” Landon hears the squeak of the chair as Sam leans forward. “You already know what I’m going to ask next, so just tell me how you know all this.”
Landon takes a second. He turns, meets Sam’s eyes with his own. “I saw it all a long time ago. Probably when I was twelve or thirteen, but my memory isn’t great.”
“What, you some sorta psychic or somethin’?”
A sound halfway between a scoff and a chortle leaves Landon’s lips. “Nah, nothing like that.” He walks over and offers his hand; Sam takes it and pulls himself up. “Listen, the truth is more absurd than whatever you want to tell yourself, so just make up a story in your head and ignore it.”
“That’s for me to decide,” Sam says as he makes his way back out of the office. He looks over his shoulder and grins. “Now come on, I got some things I wanted to show you with Ziggy before you leave. She’s already waitin’ on us.” He places a hand on the doorframe, quirks an eyebrow. “But I’m going to get the truth out of you one of these days. I’m too curious not to.”
“How about this, then?” Landon asks. “If we make it to Phenac city before Cipher, get the help you need, and make it back here before anyone beats us -- I’ll tell you anything you wanna know.”
Sam’s smile becomes feral. “You’ve got yourself a deal, kid.”
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They leave the next day before dawn. Without the mountains in the distance, sand stretches out until it mixes with and joins the sky as the horizon. Stars dance up above. And the frosty morning air offers a biting chill that’s more comfortable than not. Landon looks to Ziggy, then Sendo, and finally, his compass.
“Alright,” he says, adjusting his bag straps. “We’ve only got one destination, and it’s south.”
Phenac city waits.