Tray checked the maps, the records had shown that this area was not as explored as most. Thick fingers tapped against the panel of the mapping console. A lucky read out might reveal something.

“Drop another sonar boom; I’d like to get a reading here,” Tray said.

Larox kept his feet propped on the instrument panel, gnawing the straw sticking out from his water bottle.

“Give it a rest,” He mumbled, biting his straw, “We’ve been working for five hours and the readings are dead. This area was abandoned for a reason. Sides’, it’s too damn hot for this wild goose hunt.”

Tray kicked an empty swivel chair; it spun towards Larox. “Damn it all to hell then! I’ll do it myself. They’d decommission this damn blimp if we’d all take your stinkin’ attitude.”

“Relax, everyone knows I’m the only one here with my attitude.”

Tray lunged forward and slammed his palms on the arms of Larox’s chair. His nose was an inch from Larox, and spittle flew from his teeth when he growled, “If you weren’t such a damn good gunner, I’d have thrown your ass overboard a long time ago and let the asphalt get a taste of it.”

“Watch the personal space, Tray.”

Tray actually leaned back, then went to check a scope only a few feet from where Larox was sitting.

“One of these days I’ll do it,” Tray said to himself, though making a point of having it heard. “He won’t even know it’s coming till his ass is tar food.”

Larox just snickered, “Whatever, I’d like to see you try.”

Tray grunted as his jaw tightened as he checked the scope. Miles and miles of asphalt blackness numbed the eye. He decided to change the subject, suddenly feeling diplomatic.

“Hard to believe this was ever for farming.”

“Yeah, like the greenhouses at base. So what did they call this area again, before any of us were born?”

“How am I supposed to know? Lauren keeps track of that kind of stuff. Since you’re so keen on her I’ll call her up.”

“It was an idle question Tray. Let the girl fix something in peace. And for the record, I’m not that keen on her. She has ice water in her veins.”

Tray had already picked up the microphone of his headset and grinned like his thoughts were genius, “Lauren, get your ass up here. Larox has a question.”

“I’m busy, tell him I said no,”

The reply squeaked from Tray’s headphones loud enough for only him to hear.

“It’s not a personal question, he actually wants a history lesson.”

“Really? What does he want to know?”

Tray chuckled, “Why don’t you ask him?”

Tray set the headset down as Larox put his head back and groaned, “Abuse of power, you pompous snot. Last thing I need is a lecture.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

A few minutes later a door to the crane room in the interior of the airship underbelly swung open and then shut again as Lauren entered. Oil, grime, and fluid darkened her gray polyester work suit. Her brown hair was pulled back tightly into a large bun above the back of her neck. The dirty ball of hair reeked from all the putrid chemicals that powered the crane along with a fair share of oil and sweat.

“So what does our student need to know?"

Lauren looked at Trays stupid grin as she idly slapped her peeling name tag to keep it in place.

“Larox wanted to know what this part of the parking lot used to be called.”

“What are the coordinates?”

“Last I checked we were running 99.61 long and 38.74 lad, about 350 miles due south from the base,” Larox said.

Tray shook his head in disgust, “That was fifteen minutes ago.”

“We’re over the middle of Kansas. This is the land my grandparents farmed, so I should know. In fact, Hill River used to be right around here. ”

“Free soil farmers,” Tray sighed, “Not much to farm now.”

“How would you know what they did?” Larox asked, “You weren’t even born.”

She picked up a pair of high powered binoculars to scan the dark terrain below

“My parents told me stories- about the world they knew as children, before... before this. What do you even call this? I don’t recognize this world. I’ve known it all my life, and it still seems strange to me.”

She saw something moving below, a tiny figure in the distance, so she adjusted for a more detailed view while keeping the object in sight. She tilted her head and squinted. Her jaw dropped slightly. Something had caught her attention.

“Intersting. How can that be?”

Crickets could have chirped for all the interest Tray and Larox showed. Larox sipped on water loudly, purposely tuning her out. Tray shifted back to the sonar data to examine charts.

“There’s someone out there!” Lauren yelled, loud enough to grab their attention, “There’s someone alive down there!”

“It’s probably a mirage,” Tray grumbled, flicking his hand about.

“Probably too much sun in her eyes, or she was sniffing the mineral spirits,” Larox suggested as he leaned back further.

“I’m serious. It’s a person running toward us. This isn’t a mirage! There’s a person down there!”

“Larox, why don’t take a second look?”

“You gotta be kidding!”

He pushed himself from the seat he dropped the water canteen in a holder. Without so much as a warning he seized the binoculars and scanned the terrain a bit disinterestedly, keeping his head down.

“Don’t see a thing,” he said calmly.

Lauren adjusted his head, not bothering to be gentle. Larox saw the stranded woman from two hundred meters above.

“Oh, I see it now. Or am I just seeing thing. This terrain plays with your head.”

“We gotta do something before we drift out of range,” Lauren said, “Have Horst get a bearing on her position so we can lower the crane.”

“I’ll go down,” Larox said as he turned to leave.

“What is this!?” Tray hollered, “I’m the captain here. Wait for me to give the orders!”

The door out of the interior cabin swung shut. The others were gone before Tray could protest any further. The sounds of the opening hatch and the crane’s clinking chains followed the thrum of the motors.

“My opinion should be consulted first,” Tray muttered.

Tray threw some graphs on the floor and hurried to the cockpit door, he pushed it open. Empty plastic water bottles littered the floor. The pilot leaned back to navigate the wheel with his feet while keeping his hands behind his head. Rap music escaped from his headphones.

“Horst, some girl is wandering the flats. Check your scope, fly low, and take this baby within range of the lift.”

No reaction. Tray pulled the headphones off, scowling as he pointed to the cabin door, said, “I’m taking over the controls, slacker! Man the pulse cannon. I want you ready to assist if the asphalt activates.”

“Wha? How’re we supposed to get the goods without opening things up down there first. Sounds backward to me.”

“There’s no treasure. Rescue operation. You’re supporting with the artillery.”

“Someone’s down there?” Horst asked, looking out the window. “Out here? That’s crazy. There’s no way someone could be down there.”

“Well someone is, maybe, anyway, if Lauren and Larox aren't halucinating. Now get to the guns before I carry you down there.”

Horst turned from the door with a jerk, “Shouldn't this be like the reverse?! I'm the pilot after all. And Larox is the gunner. Shouldn't we be sending you down there after this wandering illusion Captain?”

“Now!” Tray shouted.