Despite the insistance of of her helmet chronometer that it had only been four days, Junebug was certain it had been a hundred years when they finally stumbled in to the upper reaches of a canyon whose covering of scrubby vegetation marked the passage of an underground river. Junebug’s skin was burnt to a shade of bronze that would have done her desert dwelling Terran ancestors proud. Neil and Taya, fairer and having spent less time out in the elements, were not faring so well, both were badly sunburned despite their efforts to keep covered. Saxon, surprisingly, had fared the best of them all. Sayeeda had always associated the Hex with jungles in her mind, but the way his scales had grown dull suggested that their native habitat might as likely be desert as wetland. He didn’t complain of thirst or speak much other than level the occasional threat at Neil but with the exception of a slight sluggishness to the nictitating membranes which served as his eyelids, did not seem much the worse for wear.
They had travelled at night seeking shelter and sleep during the day, following a steady course south easterly to the nearest chartered settlement. The protein rations Sayeeda had been carrying had kept them from starving though all, save perhaps Saxon, were suffering from hunger pains from the meager rations. The concentrated protein was enough to keep them moving but they were neither filling nor satisfying. Water was a much more pressing concern, Junebug’s armor held a reclaimer unit which was able to process her sweat and what little moisture there was in the aird air into potable water but it was still little more than a cup a day and their bodies were beginning to suffer from the dehydration. 

As they stumbled down the side of the canyon the air cooled and moistened significantly and they humidity counter displayed in Junebugs helmet climbed from <1% up to a modest 15 percent. The reclaimer clicked quietly as its workload increased. Fortunately the salvagers had either believed them dead or lost their trail as no pursuit had followed them. Junebug suspected that the answer to that lay in the strange method of their escape, the temporal distortion that had carried them out of the alien vessel had left her clock unaltered, but she suspected that they had traveled some time, perhaps a day or two into the future and that attempts to find them had already failed.

They moved down the canyon at a shuffling walk until, rounding a corner, they found themselves confronted by a group of houses built into the canyon wall and a sprawl of greenery surrounding a metal capped wellhead. Men in desert garb started at the sight of them and several disappeared into their houses to return a moment later carrying antiquated looking long arms. Sayeeda held her hand up in a gesture of friendship, though her other hand held the receiver of her stolen rifle. Despite the weight of the weapon she had clung to it throughout the arduous trek. A soldier didn’t give up her weapon any more than she threw away her rations or took of her helmet in vacuum.   

“We need to passage to the spaceport,” she croaked in response to a demand to know who she was.

It cost them their remaining rations and both Sayeeda and Taya’s side arms, but two hours later they were arriving on the outskirts of the city, all of them riding in the back of a large air cushion truck that served as the villages primary conveyance. It was nearly nightfall and the city was already falling into it’s strangely divided routine. The locals were returning to their homes while the spacers and traders were heading out to the various bars and dives that ringed the spaceport. 

The Highlander sat where they had left it, though there were a few disappointed vendors who had clearly noticed that it had been several days since anyone approached the ship and perhaps had been hoping that they might pick the vessel over if its owners were dead. Sayeeda stepped up to the ramp and put in her code, lowing the access ramp to the sandstone floor. They marched up the stairs and into the cool interior of the ship intent on food, water and, at least in Junebug’s case, a shower. After that they would have to discuss how they were planning to get off this rock but Junebug couldn’t force her tired brain to grapple with that right at the moment.

“Lonny?” Neil asked, and it wasn’t until after he spoke that a vague sense of unease crystalized in Junebugs mind. Behind her she heard the soft click of a weapon being unsafed. Instinctively her own hand slid down to her rifle but before she could react a feminine voice spoke from behind her.

“Please, I don’t mean you any harm.” Junebug turned slowly. Stepping out from behind a bulkhead was a beautiful woman. Though she was dressed in a set of Neil’s coveralls her body still managed to look lush and inviting, her face might have been a computer generated picture of beauty with full pouting lips and blond hair with natural curls that many women would have spent a weeks salary at a salon to acquire. In her hand was four barreled flechette pistol, a weapon intended for use inside the ship where heavier weapons might smash systems and damage electronics. The energized darts were still plenty deadly however.

“Your the woman from the palace,”  Junebug said, her mouth voicing the thought before her exhausted mind was truly aware of it. She remembered the woman the Pasha had held at gunpoint, though she couldn’t for the life of her think of a reason she had come here.

“Please dont,” the woman implored desperately. Junebug realised that her  hands had continued their migration to her weapon and she deliberately lifted them away from the slung rifle.

“I came here for help,” she confessed, the pistol wavering in her hands.

“Maybe put the gun down then?” Junebug suggested, and to her considerable relief the woman lowered the pistol.

“Who are you?” Taya asked, irritably. 

“My name is Indra Hawkwood. I am the daughter of the Primate of Cylonieka,” she said, the tone clearly suggesting that the information should mean something to the group. Sayeeda glanced sideways at Neil who shrugged.

“Ok Miss Hawkwood,” Junebug said with all the civility she could manage.

“Why did you break into our ship and point a gun at us if you need our help. I dont know how things are done on Cylon… wherever…”

The woman was already shaking her head, her beautiful face a mask of fear and dispair.

“You don’t understand,” she blurted, “the pasha and his men are looking for me, I thought you might be them!”

Neil snorted and Junebug smiled.

“Trust me lady, the Pasha isn’t looking for anyone unless he is doing it from beyond the grave,” Junebug told her with a tired smile but the woman shook her head emphatically.

“Not the old Pasha, the new one. Sven or whatever he calls himself, he wants to keep me as a hostage! I’ve been hiding here for days hoping you would come back.”

Sayeeda’s face blanked and Neil swore quietly. Taya reached out and touched the ramp control. It began to retract, sealing off the noise of the starport outside.

“Well shit,” Neil observed.