Page 17 of Rok's Captive
I shake my head. “Tina’s been through that manual front to back. If there was anything about how to boost the signal, she would’ve found it.”
Inside, supplies have been meticulously divided. Hydration packets, emergency rations that taste like cardboard dipped in artificial chicken flavor, heat-reflective blankets that we’ve rigged up as shade. We even designated an area about thirty yards behind the transport as our bathroom spot—though I try not to think about where exactly people are handling their more serious business in a landscape with absolutely no privacy.
“Someone should check on the woman with the head wound,” I say, feeling a bit bad I still don’t know her name. She’d regained consciousness on the first day, but has remained quiet and disoriented.
“Alex is with her,” Erika replies. “Said she’s improving, but still needs to stay still and quiet.”
“And the one with the broken arm?” Jacqui asks.
“Pam’s helping her with the sling,” Hannah says. “That medical kit was pretty impressive, actually. Had everything Alex needed to set the bone.”
“Almost like they anticipated injuries,” Mikaela mutters.
No one responds to that. The implications are too unsettling.
“Anyone want to take a walk?” Pam steps out of the transport, her perpetual cheer only slightly dimmed as she gazes out across the sand. “I’m going stir-crazy in there.”
“You made it exactly twelve minutes yesterday before you came running back saying you were melting,” Jacqui points out.
Pam shrugs. “Today I’m going for fifteen.”
Despite everything, I can’t help but smile. Her optimism is both irritating and somehow comforting.
“I’ll join you,” I say, standing up and brushing sand from my pants. “Need to stretch my legs.”
We don’t venture far—nobody does. The merciless sun and the oppressive heat make anything beyond a short circuit around the transport unbearable. But it’s still better than sitting inside, listening to the increasingly tense conversations about what we should do next.
“Those rock formations seem closer today,” Pam stops walking, shielding her eyes as she gazes toward the horizon.
I follow her gaze to the strange pillars of stone jutting from the sand in the distance. “They’re the same distance they’ve always been.”
“Maybe.” She doesn’t sound convinced. “But they’re the only landmark out here. If help doesn’t come soon…”
She doesn’t finish the thought. She doesn’t need to.
We complete our brief circuit and return to the small patch of shade. Already, the sweat is pouring down my back, and my mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton despite the hydration packet I consumed just an hour ago.
“Seven minutes,” Jacqui announces when we return. “New record for shortest walk.”
“Heat’s worse today.” I shrug before sinking back down beside her.
“Or we’re just getting weaker.” Mikaela braces back on her elbows. I don’t reply, but I know she’s right.
The evening brings marginally cooler temperatures and most of us gather outside the transport as the massive white asshole of a star begins its slow descent toward the horizon.
“I miss NewTube,” someone sighs.
“I miss flush toilets,” another adds.
“I miss not knowing what everyone’s farts smell like,” Mikaela says, earning a few tired laughs.
It’s become our nightly ritual—this listing of what we miss. Wine. Air conditioning. Pizza. The sound of birds. Rain. Traffic. The annoying neighbor who played music too loud. All the things we never thought we’d long for.
One thing nobody misses though, is all the bills and debt we left behind. Nobody’s mentioned that.
But despite this camaraderie, I don’t…I don’t know how much longer we can last like this.
Pam maintains her relentless optimism despite everything, suggesting silly games to pass the time. While Hannah’s anxiety manifests as constant movement—pacing, fidgeting, rearranging supplies. Meanwhile, as I watch Mikaela tug and wrangle a piece of the torn ship (pretty sure she’s planning on using it as a weapon), I realize her cynicism masks her survivalist mentality. And then there’s Erika, whose natural authority sometimes clashes with Tina’s intellectual approach to problems—Erika wants action while Tina insists on analyzing the manual for solutions. Alex remains professionally detached, though I’ve caught her crying silently when she thought no one was watching.
