The Nick Of Time (and other abrasions)
A Heart Full Of Dust
by
Al Bruno III
(Thirteen)
Memories of the dream plagued Vagabond late into the morning.
The trawler was making good time. The ruined city had been reduced to nothing but a speck, the Barrens were just a few hours up ahead. Vagabond stood at the bow, Lily clung to him, her monitor pressed to his chest.
Their transportation was a rusted-out eyesore patched together from the remains of a half-dozen hoverships. It was fifty feet long from prow to stern and four yards at its widest. A rickety ladder connected the main deck to the bridge. There were two cramped levels below deck, consisting of primitive sleeping quarters and storage rooms.
The engine sputtered and whined, the trawler pitched wildly in the air. A flurry of curses erupted from the bridge. Vagabond held on to the railing that surrounded the main deck and Lily held on to him.
“You hungry Vagabond?” Rhea said poking her head out of the hatch that led below decks.
“M-maybe later,” the trawler returned to an even keel, he sagged against the raining with relief. Rhea had been civil to him of late and in some ways he found that more unnerving than when she was being hostile.
Gnawing on a strip of dried meat she climbed up onto the deck and approached them. She placed a tentative hand on Lily's shoulder, “How are you love?”
“Scared.”
“You didn't have to come.”
“Yes I did. You need me,” she placed her hand over Rhea's and gave it a squeeze, “You both need me.”
Rhea took another bite and stared thoughtfully at the horizon.
A few moments later the trawler dipped in the air once more, its underside scraping the ground before it became airborne again. A robed man with soft blonde hair stormed out of the bridge, stomping his feet with rage. His hair was teased so that it stood up at wild angles. “Fuck!” he shouted, “Fuck!! Fuck!!! Fuck!!!!”
Lily cowered at the sight of him, Vagabond held her tightly. Of all the people Surkotchi could have sent with them, he had chosen this foulmouthed maniac.
“What seems to be the problem Kurt?” Rhea asked.
“Oh, there's no fuckin' problem, unless we need to make a fuckin' right turn to get where we're fucking going.”
“Is the rudder broken?”
“It's fucked that's what it is!” he scrambled down the ladder that connected the bridge to the main deck, “I told Surkotchi that the fuckin' trawler wasn't ready- but Noooooooo! Why listen to me? I only built the fuckin' thing!”
Vagabond couldn't resist getting in on this, “If we'd waited till you were finished it might have been too late.”
“Don't you even start with me Wandering Fool. I've read the fucking gospels, I know your style. You're probably leading us into a trap!”
“Now you know that's not the case.” Rhea shook her stump at him.
“HA!” he climbed below decks, “I don't know what the fuck you want, but I know for a fucking fact that you could care less about the Sleeping Messiah.”
“That's true.”
For a moment Kurt was silent, then he climbed back up the ladder, “What?”
“I don't care about a bunch of in-bred primitives who spend their days worshipping a Class Seven Clone Stasis Cell.”
Vagabond tried to hide his grin.
“But what I do care about is the life of what remains of this planet,” Rhea turned from him and scanned the horizon, “and if you have an ounce of common sense you should care too.”
“Exactly!” Vagabond said, “Your trawler won't do you much good if the Earth is-”
“Shut up,” she growled.
“But-”
“It's bad enough you're screwing my daughter, don't go interrupting me as well.”
Kurt goggled, he pointed from Vagabond to Lily, “You're fucking that?”
A tiny choking sound escaped from Lily, Vagabond's frown deepened.
Rhea approached the hatch until she was staring down at him, “Shouldn't you be fixing the fucking rudder?”
“Oh. Oh yeah,” he quickly disappeared below decks.
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