Rick walked out to meet Sam. They met up on the edge of the bluff overlooking the desert, with the ruins of the ancient crashed city looming above them and the lights of Angels’ Landing beginning to blossom off to the south.

Sam looked tired. She was wearing a long white great coat, long and flowing, with gold buckles. It hung open to reveal a fitted blue tunic, pale icy blue, with a gold band along the shoulders. The tunic curved down to her hips before flaring out into a short skirt. Underneath, she wore white leggings and tall black leather knee-high boots. Her blonde hair fell past her shoulders in curls. The coat had a hood, but she wasn't wearing it up.

She gave him a weary smile. "Hey there.”

"Hi." Rick felt awkward. "It's good to see you again."

"You too," she acknowledged.

They stood side by side, staring out into the darkening desert. One of the tiny moons was just beginning to rise. The river glinted softly silver in the setting sun as it traced its way through the farm fields and out into the desert.

"So, uh," Rick said, trying to break the awkward silence, "looks like you're getting along pretty well."

She shrugged. "It was rough at first, I admit, but I've got my feet under me now. You?"

"We're doing pretty good," Rick said. "We picked up a game guide back in town, and he's been helping us out. Oh, we found a bunch of your old crew. The Mars expedition."

Her eyes widened. "You did?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Dr. Schneider. Takashi, Martel, Mason and Rahimi."

Sam’s shoulders slumped. "Oh, yeah. I ran into them already. I thought maybe you meant you'd found some who weren't NCPs. I kept trying to talk to them back in town, but they were all running around trying to put together a caravan. It was like the system was puppeting them. Every now and then I'd break through and get in a half a conversation, and then I'd say the wrong thing and trigger an automated response. It got depressing, so I left."

"They're here with us," Rick said.

Sam's eyes widened. "How'd you manage that?"

"We added them to our retinue."

She just staredat him. "Your what?"

"If you have a party of at least three, you're able to form a retinue. It's part of the caravan system."

Sam was nodding. "Oh. Yeah, I've heard about caravans from someone else."

Rick guessed she meant Team Technique and decided to leave it for now. "Our game guide helped us figure out how to get one started. He's here along with us now. I think he's going to be a big leg up. He's got a couple million years' worth of knowledge, and he’s as motivated to get off of Mars as we are."

Sam frowned. "I've been looking for a way off of Mars. I know there has to be one. People come here from other worlds. I've been hoping to grind enough levels to go to Zolrandi Reach, the Advanced Zone where all the offworlders are currently."

"Wait, there's offworlders here on Mars?" Rick asked. "I mean, obviously I knew there were at least a few. We ran into that guy in the dungeon. But Slate seemed to think that the Galactics were bored of this place."

She shook her head. "From what I've gathered from doing dungeon runs, some of them are coming here to grind out rep to exalted with one of the Martian factions. It's going to give them a leg up when Earth gets integrated here in a few months." She sighed and looked even more tired than ever. "I was hoping I could make it back to Earth at the start of that. You know how this is going to hit back home. Nobody's going to be prepared for it." She cocked her head to one side. "But anyway, you're here, and I've run into a couple of others too."

"Technique, obviously," Rick said. "And I'm guessing the Chinese?"

She nodded. "They won't talk to me."

"I get the feeling from Gambit they're not the friendliest," Rick agreed. "Gambit was on their team before we got here. Did Technique fill you in on what happened?"

"Sort of," Sam said. She hesitated, then shrugged. "Pratt claims that there was an emergency mission sent as a cooperation between NASA, SpaceR, and some multinationals. They had a bunch of the usual soldier types, but somebody got the bright idea of sending along gamers. Since Technique had just won the Everwar Championships, they were first choice, and since they were down a man, you got picked to fill in the slot. But then they got here, and it turned out to be five-man parties max. Since you're not exactly on good terms with them anymore, you split up."

Rick rolled his eyes. "That's more or less true," he agreed. He was pretty sure that he'd been picked because of his personal connection with Sam, and that Technique's presence was more a result of their previous ties to him than the other way around. But he wasn't going to say that now. "We didn't really have a discussion. They just warned me off, but I get why," he added hastily. "We didn't part on good terms."

"Yeah, I've noticed that's kind of a habit with you," Sam said. "Sorry, shouldn't have said that," she added quickly.

"Anyway, I've got a team now," Rick said, ignoring her jibe. "Gambit from the Chinese group, and Daniel was originally here with the Special Forces guys. Those guys are still back in the starting zone. Gambit's a pro out of Asia. Good head on his shoulders. Daniel’s kind of a noob, but he's listening, and he's developing a really useful skill in trap building. I think we're in good shape, but we could really use a tank."

Sam held up a hand. "All right, stop right there. I know what you're going to say, and I don't want to get into an argument right now. So let's keep talking about the current situation, and we'll circle back to that."

Rick had to take a deep breath. He nodded. "All right. I can respect that for now." It was nice seeing Sam again. She was a bit less confident than he remembered. There was definitely an undercurrent to her words, and her tired face belied her proud statements. "So, have you been on your own all this time?"

"How long has it been?" Sam asked.

"About two months."

"Is that all?" She shook her head. "I thought it was more. Yeah, on my own. I got split up from the expedition. I don't know what happened to most of them. I did run into some in town, like I said, but there's a couple of noob starting villages, and I figured maybe the others got shunted off elsewhere. I'm still hoping some of them are free agents. As far as I can tell, the NCPs are stuck here for good.”

“Unless they join a retinue for a group that's getting off world," Rick agreed, "like us. Slate says we have to gear up enough to run the end dungeons. I guess those are at the zone you talked about earlier. We get a couple of transport tokens there, and then we can get our caravan off world."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Just like that?" Sam asked.

He nodded. "Just like that."

"And you say you need a group of at least three to earn a caravan?" Sam's face went pensive. "Technique's got a caravan.”

“And a full party," Rick reminded her. "We're short two players, and we'd love to have you, Sam. Not just 'cause you're a tank, though that'd be awesome. We have a spot for another DPS, too."

"That's right, you're running heals now," Sam said. She looked amused.

Rick flushed. "I know that wasn't my best performance. I'm still getting used to what I can do. Believe me, I'm going to get better. Anyway, so we made it here, and we're going to be working through quests while Slate researches our next caravan upgrade. We've got to get it to fly before we can take it off world."

Sam's eyes widened. "You're gonna have a flying caravan? This I have to see. Plus, well, I want to check on my colleagues. You think I can come by?"

"I hope so," Rick said. "We'd love to have you. Oh, right." He held up a hand. "Contact info."

"Yeah," Sam said. She extended a hand, and Rick took it. Her fingers were warm against his. He would have liked more extended contact, but she withdrew her hand and held her arms awkwardly at her sides, shifting her weight back and forth.

He cleared his throat. "So, uh, I get that you're nervous about joining up with us. How about you help us out with some quests and see if you like our dynamic?"

She shook her head. "You're on the wrong faction, remember? Why'd you pick the farmers, anyway? The miners have access to all of the good tech."

"We didn't really have a chance to check out what they were offering. They demanded we pick right then, and the miner woman was really arrogant."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Arrogant, right. That's what you call a woman who knows what she's doing, isn't it? Whatever." She shook her head. "I'm nearly done grinding their rep. That'll let me get a trinket I need if I'm going to have a chance at the top-level dungeons. I can't quit and start grinding the other faction. It’d take forever. Just a couple more days, and I'll be there. We're going to excavate the tripod again tomorrow, by the way," she warned. “So you probably want to stay out of the way.

Rick shook his head. “No we beat it and got plenty of rep from defending the village. It'll work out."

He was gratified to see her surprised look, which she stifled a moment later. She hadn’t thought they could beat that thing.

Rick surprised a smirk. "What's your plan after that?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I've been thinking about heading out to High End Zone and talking to people there. If I could get a more permanent slot as a tank, I might be able to secure my way back to Earth once it opens up. Problem is, a lot of the Galactics are really racist."

Rick was surprised. "How can something like that matter anymore? We're all stuck in here together."

Sam shrugged. "Well, it's not like the probe selects for the best and brightest and least biased of a species. They take whoever's willing to come. Sometimes that's people like you, and sometimes it's like the rest of your friends from Team Technique."

Rick felt a brief desire to defend his old teammates. She must have seen it on his face, because she rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, come on," Sam said. "I was there listening to you guys in Discord plenty. They’re a bunch of racist, sexist Neanderthals. Pratt's been asking if I want to join up with them, and I'm stalling while we get my rep grind done. But no way."

"They don't have room for you.”

“He said he'd kick someone," she said grimly.

"That sounds like Pratt," Rick agreed.

Rick shook his head. "And you would join the party under someone like that?"

She shrugged. "Well, no. I said I would think about it."

But she hesitated. “After that he said if I waited a few days, he would give me an invite even without kicking someone."

That brought Rick up short. "What does that mean? That his party can have more than six?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I'm not in a party, am I? I don't know anything about that system."

"Look, Sam, I know we didn't end on the best note, but that's behind us now. I'm not asking to get back together with you. I'm asking if you'll team up. We can wait till your rep grind's done."

She was shaking her head. "Rick, you're a nice guy, but you've got no follow-through. I can’t tie my chances of getting off-world to someone who’s just going to let me down."

He stared at her. It was nearly full dark now. Her robe—a coat—was glowing softly, illuminating her face. “I – Sam, that’s unfair.”

She looked pained as she spoke. "You know it's true. I'm not trying to be mean. Any time things gets hard, you drop out."

"That's not true," he said.

"Grad school?"

"Dr. Takeo wouldn't back me up. He said there was no way Mars had ever had multicellular life, and he wasn't going to support me presenting a thesis on it. Wish he was here now," Rick stared around. "Guess that thesis is obsolete anyway.”

“The point is, you gave up at the first hurdle. You didn't try to find another backer or change your thesis. How about Team Technique?"

"They kicked me," Rick said bitterly.

"Then you followed up by sabotaging yourself in the eyes of every competitor they had."

"I was just done with the scene for a while."

"And how about us?"

"That wasn't just me," Rick said. "You know it. You told me that you didn't think you could handle long distance."

"That was because I wanted you to come to Houston with me and try to get back into the program. You weren't dismissed for cause. It was that surgery, and you'd recovered."

Rick set his jaw stubbornly. "When I got into the astronaut program in the first place, I was a PhD candidate with promise and a good sob story. By the time you were heading out for training, I'd already lost my place and was kicked out of grad school. They weren't going to take me back."

"You could have tried," Sam said. "That's the point. Any time something got hard, you just gave up. What was the last thing you saw through to the end?"

Rick didn’t defend himself. She was right. And he knew it because he told himself the exact same thing every single night while trying to sleep. Well, not so much the last few months. He'd had other things to worry about.

"Look, things are different now," he told her. "This is important. If I screw up, I'm stuck handing out quests with an alien system telling me what to say. I'm not going to stand by and let that happen."

"Then prove it," Sam said. She turned away. "You've got my contact info now. I'm not saying I won't work with you guys. I like you a lot better than Technique. And it sounds like you've got a plan for getting off this rock. But I want more to it than just, 'Come be our tank and carry us through instances and let's see where it goes.' I am doing well on my own. I don’t want to give that up for… well, I need a real shot. Come to me with a real plan and do something about that level gap between us, and we'll talk, all right?"

She strode off. Rick watched her go, part of him wanting to follow and try to persuade her again, part of him knowing that she was right.

She'd been too kind, actually. Of course, she didn't want to spend any more time with a loser like him. Sam had it together. She could write her own ticket off of Mars, just like she'd written her own ticket to get here in the first place. His team needed her a lot more than she needed them.

As her figure dwindled into the darkness, her coat still glowing, Rick started to get annoyed. That was exactly what she didn't like about him, the tendency to give up. Well, he could show her. He'd stopped playing Everwar professionally because a tournament experience had told him that his team didn't have his back, and in a game like that, your team was everything. He'd dropped out of grad school because he couldn't find anyone to support his vision. Now, he had a team, one that did believe in what he was doing, and a more important mission than ever before.

Finally, he turned to go. As he made his way back toward the main canal he wasn’t thinking about Sam. He was thinking about where to go next. They needed a tank and another DPS. He'd prefer the tank to be Sam and would keep looking to persuade her. But if not her, then it would be someone else. They needed to upgrade their caravan and get the transport tokens so they could head back to Earth before the system showed up and inducted the planet. And he needed to get serious about healing. They'd never be able to attract a good tank to their team if he couldn't keep them all alive in dungeons.

Lost in thought he reached the outskirts of Angels Landing before he realized. The brightly lit caravan was setup just outside the walls of the town. Torches were stuck in the ground in between the caravan wagons, burning cheerfully. There was a big bonfire in the middle around which the expedition members sat. Gambit was seated on a crate. He had a long four-stringed musical instrument in hand. Rick had no idea where it had come from. He was plucking out a plaintive melody that filled the quiet evening with notes that sounded discordant yet formed a coherent whole.

Rick found Slate over by one of the caravans. The Rork was sitting on a chair like an old-fashioned beach lounger, wooden slats and a fabric seat, leaned back with his lower arms crossed and his upper arms clutching a mug of something steaming, Slate opened one eye. "What can I do for you, boss?"

"You remember that healing test scenario I ran before I could queue as a healer?"

"Sure," Slate agreed, frowning. He sat up, putting his feet on the ground. "What about it?"

"Are there more like that? Something I can run again and again? I need to get some practice time in."