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ROGUEHOUNDS
Descent #12a

Descent #12a

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The human body had evolved to stay awake for sixteen hours and to sleep for eight, to match the rhythm of sunrise and sunset on their faraway homeworld. But, in outer space, their star was just one of billions. The orbit their homeworld traced around it meant little in this timeless void. 'Time' was just a number on a computer screen, counting away the seconds towards … nothing. All they could do, in deep space, was keep moving and wait for their bodies to tell them they were out of energy and needed to sleep. And then wake up and do it again, spinning out these twenty-four hour cycles without anything to anchor them, detached from anything solid …

"Corvo!"

The voice grabbed him and dragged him back to the ground. Man, staring at the dark for so long is a real eye-opener. Wait, does that even make sense?

"Come on and—!"

He lowered his gaze from the circle of stars and faced Philomena, who had trailed off into a yawn. He'd been wearing his space suit for such a long time, and it was weighing his tired body down. As she gaped at him, Philomena tried to cover her mouth, but her hand just tapped the faceplate. Though her face was usually so stern and shrewd, as she strayed into dreamland just now she seemed kind of … peaceful? Then, her yawn done, she jerked her head around like she was trying to slap her cheek with air molecules. Her eyes popped open wide and zeroed in on him.

"Do the … Do the thing," she said.

"Fine," he said, fighting the urge to yawn himself. "But I …"

Too late. A wave of fuzz went through his cheeks and jaws, forcing him to open his mouth wide. When he'd gotten the yawn out of him, he smacked his chop a few times. It was hard, staying upright, with the fatigue filling him.

"This is the last time," he said. "We've been out here for … Rsh, how long have we been out here?"

"Seven hours," the voice in his ear said. Zantaura had a thirty-seven hour day, so it didn't sound too tired. Ticked-off, sure, but not tired.

"We need to make a profit," Philomena said.

It seemed like the lack of sleep had defanged her nasty attitude. She struggled to look at him, and her orders fell listlessly off her tongue. Her eyes dropped from his face and stared at the ground somewhere behind him and to his left.

"So … do it," she mumbled.

She swayed on her feet for a few seconds.

"You work. I'm taking a nap, and when I'm done, you better have … revolts."

Under his breath, Blaze said, "I got your 'revolts' right here."

Normally, a comment like that would make her shout, 'What was that?!' But, sapped of energy, it came out as a mush of nonsense.

"Wha-wha-zaaah …?"

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Struggling to see straight through the wave of dizziness swirling around his head, Blaze dug his heels into the stone and grounded himself. Be the cowboy, be the cowboy! Cowboys wouldn't let a little …

He yawned again. When it started to fade, he launched a rebuke at her. "Yaaah-listen here. If I'm working, you're working. Well, I say 'working' …"

Every time her eyelids fluttered, they lost energy and headed a little more towards closing completely. "Buh-huh … work," she said.

Muttering gruffly to himself, Blaze raised his spectroscope. "Come on, Luce. One last hurrah."

He waited for her to respond.

"Luce?"

He glanced at the tiny woman, who swayed precariously where she stood. Her eyes were closed and a trickle of drool dripped off of her lip, which quivered as she mumbled in her half-sleep.

"YEEE-HAW!"

Both women jumped on the spot as his bellow went over the comms channel. Blinking and twisting their head around, they raised their hands to defend themselves from danger.

"Rise and shine, ladies!" he called, with fake enthusiasm.

Their tired figures sagged as the weight of reality set in again, and neither of them bothered to hide their scowls. He grabbed Luci by the upper arm and dragged her, yawning deeply, over to the cliff.

"I have to go to the bathroom," she mumbled.

"Me first," Philomena said.

Blaze positioned her in the front of the crater wall, stood beside her, and raised his spectroscope. She followed his lead but at half-speed. Her arm slowly rose like she was fishing it out of an ocean. Once it was sort-of level, Blaze looked back at the ship while he spoke into his mic. The VM-84 was very far away, barely more than a blip of light in the distance.

"Last hurrah, Rsh. Then we're packing it in."

"As you wish. Comms offline."

The signal went dead, and then there was nothing in Blaze's ear but silence. We cowboys are used to riding alone, he thought. It doesn't get us down one bit, no sirree. But then why was his hand shaking? He tightened his grip, clamped down on his pistol, secured his hand to keep it from coming loose in turbulence.

Ten seconds, he thought.

He pulled the trigger, and the beam of light burst from its barrel and struck the wall. He stared hard at the dot, trying to distract himself from the darkness. Not scared, he thought. Not at all. When he hit ten in his head he let go of the trigger and the beam vanished. Right after that, the comms channel opened again.

"Well?" Blaze asked. He tried to put some enthusiasm into his voice, but after seven hours of failure he found it tough to muster any up.

"Sperrylite," Rsh said.

"What did you call me …?!" Philomena said, struggling to yell like she was drowning in molasses.

"Sperrylite." His vocal cords had a tough time sounding out the words, which made his voice seemed oddly hushed and reverent. "It is platinum … ore."

"Is that …" Blaze tried to keep his excitement from getting ahead of itself. "Is that valuable?

Philomena asked, "More importantly, is it pretty?"

"It is used to make jewelry—"

Suddenly wide awake, Philomena twirled towards Blaze, her eyes alive with a raging, passionate fire. "Dig, Corvo, dig!" She grabbed him and shoved him toward the cliff wall. "Get it all out! All for me! Go on, dig!"

"—among other uses," Rsh said wryly.

He said that on purpose, because he knew it'd get a rise out of her, Blaze thought. Jackass. As Philomena shoved him toward the ore embedded in the rock wall, he holstered his spectroscope.

"We left the drills on the ship, Philomena."

"So dig with your hands! I want it, Corvo! I waaaaaant it!"

Blaze grabbed her and stilled her by force. She tried to break free, but her strength quickly flagged and she went limp, panting for air as her head dropped drowsily.

"Tomorrow," he said. "Sleep first."

"I'll sleep twice as long, for the both of us. You stay here and …" A yawn interrupted her, and when it was done she smacked her chops loudly over the comms. "… do … job."

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