*
Several hours later, as the dawn sun was just rising above the horizon, Barsch awoke from his tortured dreams. He lay there as the events from the night replayed themselves in his mind. He was confused, and far from home, and for a moment he deeply regretted ever leaving the sanctuary of the station. A boy his age should be playing with friends and embarrassing himself in front of girls, not fighting evil madmen who threatened the entire human race.
“No!” he thought, “If father heard me talking like that, he would call me a coward. Yes, I know it wasn’t my choice, but I’m here now. They chose me. They entrusted me with this task. I have to do what I can so that I don’t get in their way. Father always said that It wasn’t the enemy you had to be afraid of, it was your own cowardice that will defeat you in the end. I may not like it, but if I hadn’t met Alza in the glade, and if I hadn’t decided to follow Kingston, I would never have had the chance to journey with them and experience all these amazing things. I could have died on that hill, choking on poisoned air, but I survived. Father was right… I can’t lose my stride.”
A sudden flash of memory made him clutch his leg in anticipated pain. He had barely made it to the oasis… how could he keep up with them? He would have to hide it, somehow, lest they think of turning back so that he could be healed.
Barsch, still feeling the last dredges of sleep leave his body, slid his hand down his leg, expecting to feel the crippling wound. After a minute or two of fruitless searching, he pulled up his pant leg and checked with his much more trustworthy eyes. However, they gave the same report: the wound was gone.
“How?” It was the only word that penetrated his early morning torpid state.
Now that he thought about it, the pain was gone too, as if it had never been. He searched for any sign of healing, such as scars or stitches, eyeing Kingston’s sleeping frame as he did so. If anyone had done something, it would be him. He doubted Alza would go out of her way to help him, as she had never shown any consideration for him before. Perhaps… it had all been a hallucination, brought on by heat stroke and dehydration. Whatever the truth, it no longer mattered. He was well, and he would not have to lie to his friends.
Rising slowly to his feet, as if the wound might prove to be real and return at any moment, Barsch turned his head towards the rising sun. He spent a minute looking for something, before reaching down and retrieving Lanista from where it had been placed. The Avatars were nowhere to be seen, a fact which both terrified and relieved Barsch at the same time. He started to limp over to the deep blue pool of water several feet away, before remembering that he was no longer crippled. Sinking to his knees, he took several deep gulps. The water was cool and pure, and served to strip away the last vestiges of sleep.
After filling Ion’s ever-cool water pouch, he stood and walked over to Alza’s sleeping figure. Without her customary scowl, she appeared peaceful and welcoming. Without thinking he leant down and brushed a stray strand of hair from her pale face. He knew that his desire to protect her was nothing more than a showing of chivalry, coupled with a fear of being alone once more. Nevertheless, he was resolved to watch over her, even if she wanted nothing to do with him. Raising his hand, he was surprised to see a pair of violet eyes glaring at him.
“Do you need something from me?” she asked, her cold tone at odds with the warmth of the desert.
“Uh... No, just checking if you’re okay?” he replied, hoping that she had not noticed his gesture.
“My wellbeing is none of your concern,” it did not seem possible, but her tone had become even icier. Barsch half expected frost to form on her lips. However, given Alza’s… uniqueness, he did not completely rule it out.
“Um... Sorry, I... Er... I’ll just leave you alone then.” What had he been thinking? That a few days apart would suddenly warm her to him? The heat of the desert must have cooked his brain…
Alza, who had been slowly sitting up, seemed to glance at his leg more than once. Barsch briefly saw confusion cloud her face, but when he looked again she had regained her icy composure. After standing and gathering her belongings, she said, “We should rouse the old one, we need to be on our way.”
She turned and stared at the rising sun, before turning and facing the opposite direction. Barsch heard her softly murmur, “Follow the setting sun...” under her breath.
Taking a chance, he said, “So, you had the dream too?” However, Alza gave no sign that she had, merely walking off in the direction of the lagoon without another word. Shaking his head in confusion, he began to move towards Kingston, but stopped when a familiar figure emerged from the undergrowth. It was Maloch, battered and covered in scratches, but still functional.
“Good morning, Barsch La Tergan, how go your pre-operation processes?” The last time he had seen the re-mech -in the Saving Grace- had been moments before he had lost consciousness. Seeing him again brought a myriad of emotions to the surface, with relief and confusion fighting for first place.
“Uh… Well? I’m just getting ready to set out. How about you? You’re looking pretty beat up yourself.” Even Barsch had survived the crash with nothing more than a broken leg.
“And even that may or may not have been a hallucination.”
How had Maloch, built to withstand decades of hazardous environments, ended up so badly damaged?
The re-mech glanced downwards, its eyes lighting up in surprise as if it was the first time it had seen the state of its body. “Unfortunately, my journey through the desert was rather eventful. However, I am still fit for service, If you would have me?”
Barsch gave a short bark of laughter at the question. They had damaged Maloch, selfishly entrusted him with their wellbeing and forced him to go on a suicidal mission into a doomed building. If anything, Barsch had expected anger or mistrust, not radiant eagerness. The re-mech clearly did not know how to hold a grudge.
“Maloch, I would be truly honoured if you joined us. I can’t say that it will be a quick or easy path, but having you there will be a great help.”
“I am happy to hear that. Do you think that this makes us friends?” asked Maloch, radiating hope.
“Friends? Maloch, we owe you our lives. We faced certain death and won, and if that doesn’t make us friends, then nothing will.”
“Thank you, Barsch. I suppose a bond of a friendly nature has been forged between us. In that case, it is customary as a friend to ask, how is your injury?”
“What injury?” asked Barsch, for a moment forgetting his leg.
The re-mech, showing a great amount of skill at improvising, hastily replied, “Ah, sorry, my mistake. I was wrong.” Maloch knew what he had seen the night before, even going so far as to re-do his earlier scan of Barsch. It was strange, as the youth no longer bore the wound which should have crippled him. Still, Maloch saw no reason to bring further confusion to his new… friend, so he logged the incident as an error in his scanning equipment.
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