Two bunk beds stood at either side of the sleeping cabin. Between the beds, but to the back, was an easy chair with a portable television sitting on its cushion. A small freezer sat under the left bunk. A sofa was pushed against the front wall and the rooms only obvious entrance was next to it. A small metal ventilation fan hung from the ceiling but remained still.

The rescued woman sat on a bunk as Lauren wrapped her ankle. All the crew members were versed in basic first aid, but Lauren usually ended up doing the work. Larox sat on Tray’s bunk at the other side of the room. Two cold wraps tied over his burnt hand with an old cord and a salve had been applied to the cuts on his face. Tray sat on the sofa and watched the refugee suspiciously with his arms around his chest.

“All tied,” Lauren said, “That should hold you until we get back to Mandaree.”

“If we get back to Mandaree,” Tray said, “That double loop Horst performed cost us too much fuel.”

“Forgive us, oh great one,” Larox said stoically.

“How in the world did you get out this far into the flats?” Lauren asked, “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to be wondering around down there.”

The refugee looked down at her ankle silently.

“More like deadly,” Tray said while playing with the buttons on the television. “I never heard of anybody getting this far out without becoming pavement food. Someone must of dropped you out there. Do you have any idea who? You even have a name?”

The refugee stared at her foot blankly, as if refusing to acknowledge anyone now that she was rescued.

“What's wrong with you? Can’t you hear!?” Tray yelled.

“Relax, Tray,” Larox said.

“Don’t pick on her,” Lauren protested, “What if she’s in shock!”

“He wouldn’t know anything about that, though. He’s still setting records for stupidity.”

“That would be impossible, because you hold the unbreakable title,” Tray said.

Larox stood up with a lazy stretch and began to wrap a towel around the cold packs on his injured hand. He looked too relaxed, a slight smile on his face as he lazily approached the new girl and looked her in the face slyly.

“Hey, I rescued you right?”

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

Lauren growled a bit this time, “If I remember correctly, it was group effort.”

“Fine. We rescued you. So could you please tell us your name?”

"Lavinia,” she said softly.

“Lavinia,” Larox said a bit louder, looking at Tray smugly before turning back, “Heh, that’s a pretty name. Sounds a lot nicer than Lauren.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with my name?”

“Nothing in particular,” he said, “just boring.”

“I’ll show you boring.”

Lauren batted him on the side of the head before leaving.

-----

A stifling breeze blew through the open windows of the deck as Larox leaned outside one, casually watching the awful scenery. The sunset settled upon the landscape like a huge egg yolk over the surface of hot griddle. It sunk into the Teflon horizon, as if evaporating. Larox sighed at his bandaged hand, happy that the pain stung, for that meant he would probably keep it. The cut on his check left a long scab.

He was waiting for the others, seemed they were going to have a little meeting about the newbie. Tray joined first, his boots thumped against the metal deck because he didn't know how to walk like a normal human being. Larox glanced in his direction. The man was starting to older and his hairline had receded further.

“All our fuel and ammo is gone,” Tray complained, “The power system is failing. We don’t have anything of value to present to the corporation; no treasure, no metals, no soil, no water, nothing. We’ll be lucky if they don’t fire us. And that’s if we’re lucky enough to make it back.”

“Relax. We’ve been good to them; besides, where else are they gonna find such professional tar rats?”

Horst and Lauren entered next, at the same time but from opposite sides of the deck.

“The wind’s favorable for a return to Mandaree,” Horst said, “I think I can manage it.”

“See that,” Larox said, “Things always seem to work out.”

“Yah,” Tray said, “Well one of these days they ain’t.”

Larox pulled out a cigarette out of his pocket and bent it between his fingers. They were far too expensive for him to treat so poorly but her couldn't help himself. His hands dug around his pockets for a book of matches until he realized he still didn't have a light.

“Hey, did anybody happen to notice anything strange, I mean, with what was going on down there, you know, when I almost died?”

“Well, I was rather busy keeping everything stable for you, or trying to.”

“My focus was on the crane, it kept getting stuck, I think we need a new one.”

Larox tilted his head as he bit down on the unlit cigarette. Maybe what he had seen resulted from the fumes, as lack of oxygen in the atmosphere had become a more recent concern. Tray looked toward Lauren, grumbling at her like a bulldog.

“How’s the girl doing, she all right?”

“She’s asleep. So what’s up, do you want to throw her overboard or something? Look, there’s really not much to talk about, so I’m gonna clean off a little bit of this grime.”

“One pint of water,” Tray said, “And not a drop more!”

“Want some company?” Larox asked, “I’ll soap you good.”

“You both need to get real,” Lauren said as she walked out, “And I’m using a quart of non-drinkable from my personal stash, but thanks for the extra pint!”

“We don’t got any treasure this time,” Horst said, “What’s up with that?”

“It’ll work out,” Tray said, “Haven’t you heard the news, we’re heroes now.”

“Oh,” Horst said complacently, “Heroes... kinda like the sound of that.”

“Yah, Heroes. Too bad we can’t save this world of ours.”

“It’s too late for that,” Larox said, “Nothing can save it now.”