Jahwan gazed down the front ramp of his big old rust bucket, tiny planters full of compost from his... personal refuse pile in the back was used to give nutrients to what few plants he ad managed to grow. to either side of the walkway and above the long planters was a row of four porthole windows, allowing light to get in. Thankfully while not the greatest thing to make, he was a decent enough glass blower to be able to fix up the windows as needed. It was simply a shame that he had to waste fuel to get the engine hot enough to smelt the glass.

Currently Jahwan rhythmically pumped a bellows leading into his engine, the incinerator door having been closed as he didn't need to make any parts as of the moment. To the left and right of his bellows foot pump were port and starboard windows, allowing him to see the wastelands outside. Sadly it was a windless night, so he had to use fuel if he wished to reach anywhere in good time. One hand remained on a handle leading to a safety line, in case of hitting bumps or rocks. Sometimes the sand dunes piled up in strange ways, causing the usual route to be a bit less than smooth. Sadly he didn't have a scoop on the front of his like some of the trader families did. While most people were nomadic, the traders usually had much larger ships that were able to push sand piled away and smooth out the path. Their rigs we're considered top of the line despite being rusty as anything else.

Jahwan sighed, a murmur from beneath his facemask as he looked out the port side window, noticing a few clouds drifting lazily over the visage of the moon. It was a nice night all things considered. But it would still be several hours before he hit the SteelPile. Centuries ago it was supposedly some sort of hub of mechanical effort and wonder, a steel producer unlike any other. Now it was just like every other used to be industrial site, rusted, crumbling steel beams, a treasure trove of material to fix rigs. Jahwans rig was crafted after a legendary beast known for the ability to spear it's enemies, the mighty narwhal. But this was information that was more legend than fact now. Few animals remained, and even fewer nomads ever saw this creature called a narwhal. But to Jahwan... It was a legendary hunter. It took him a lot of work to finally attach a tow cable above the bow facing porthole, and even more time to make it aimable and able to fire. He still needed to figure out a way to make it cheaper, but right now he was certain that his was one of the few medium class rigs that could take down a scarab shark.

Scarab sharks were hulking behemoths that if slain, didn't start to decompose for months, allowing a decent sized rig to haul it behind them and use it for food, if they squeezed the fat from it, they could also get a couple barrels of fuel. But the real treasure was the chitin plates. If you could attach them to your rig, it would often scare off smaller more agile predators, and it even could mildly camoflage you from other scarab sharks. Although any larger than your ship may actually take offense of another scarab shark being in it's territory and attack instead so mostly large ships covered themselves in chitin. Jahwan awaited the day he could get a rig like that. A man's rig was his pride! It was also his survival, BUT MOSTLY PRIDE! a man with no rig was often pitied. Even the settlers kept their old rigs in good condition. After all it was your home, and often would be passed down in the family.

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

Jahwan was feeling rather thoughtful tonight, as many a night it would happen. After all he was all alone on his rig, with only his thoughts to keep him company. Some may consider it a curse to be so alone. And in fact, among nomads, going solo was usually unexpected. After all, the more hands to drive, stock, and fix a rig, the better. The more efficiently you could continue and find more fuel, more food, more scrap... And most importantly... More Aether. Aether was a clean burning resource, but it grew sporadically and no one could tell if it was finite or not. It simply popped up in clusters of crystals and once mined may pop up again the next day, or not again in that spot for years. It was always difficult to tell where they may appear. But it was valuable, a single crystal was about the size of jahwans arm, and would slowly burn for hours past when a full barrel of fuel would, and on top of that, it would burn hotter.

Some nomads ground their Aether up and mixed it with their fuel, it worked wonders to keep their mileage up. It also reacted with the ash held in an incinerator, absorbing the ash to burn longer. So a great time to use a crystal was for a long journey with a lot of ash in the engine. It cleaned it right out, and let you chug along for miles on end. Some nomads even just sold their ash to other nomads, not having a need for ash as they had no crystals, and not wanting to deal with the wear and tear of an ash gunked engine for longer than three months. Jahwan knew that letting it build up any longer was a terrible idea, and could cause pressure issues with the engine. He was lucky he found a condenser coil to collect water. But he didn't wanna waste it on his hose and then have to fix his engine on top of that.

He squinted his eyes as he looked out the wide bow window, giving him a decent view up front, even if it was through his bedroom. His workshop was just above that, and the stairs leading down to the ramp where right by the door to his bedroom. The front was rather compact for a three story vehicle, but Jahwan didn't mind. It meant he could get around his rig faster. In the distance he saw large thin objects in strange orientations silhouetted against the deep purple-black of the starry night sky. He was close. Tomorrow he could scavenge for some steel, if necessary he could pull down a couple girders and haul it into the ramp. Thankfully he had thought ahead and kept the welder on the bottom floor, along with some scavenger stuff he may need to cut things up.

With a stifled yawn, Jahwan pulled the brake line, listening to the gentle slither of metal as it slid into place, followed by a think as it caught the ground. Poking at the fire in the incinerator he banked the fire, letting it slowly eat up fuel to keep everything going for the rest of the night. Tomorrow he would hunt for steel. But for now... It was time for bed. And so Jahwan closed the grill on the incinerator, walked into his room, and plopped down in his bed, stretching and putting his hands behind his head on his one pillow, it was kinda lumpy and needed a good set of feathers from a rafless bird, but it would be a while till he hit their foraging grounds. Looking out the window to the bow, he saw the stars in the sky above. He'd heard tales from his grandfather about how supposedly, back before the world became what it was, people couldn't see the stars, he said how their spirits were blinded and so could not see the heavens above. Jahwan could not understand this. What could blind a person's spirit to such beauty? He saw such beautiful colors of blue and purple, and tiny lights of red, yellow, and white. Truly their ancestors were cursed, to lose such a sight, and for the wasteland to overtake the world. At least now there were trees every now and then. And supposedly up north there was a Grove of trees. A whole Grove! It sounded so wonderful. Who could ever guess in one place a person could see ten or twenty trees. All growing! It was an amazing concept. So many trees.

And with that as his final thought, Jahwan drifted off to Dreamland, groves of trees all over his dreams. Spruce and birch, the willows and oaks. All the things his grandfather said we're supposed to be real. Things he'd seen in a book. Things he'd read. And so Jahwan dreamed of trees....