(Continued from the OP)

The blast doors reopened as Cesar and Huxley approached. The bridge was contained right at the very heart of the ship, and had reinforced walls and doors so that boarders or other Sand ships couldn’t destroy it easily. It was also situated at a crossroads, with a corridor straight ahead and one to either side. At the end of the long hall dead ahead were a set of stairs made from the same metal decking as the floor. Shafts of bright sunlight illuminated them from above, they lead up onto the top deck. “Megara tells me you haven’t been sleeping well.” Cesar boomed as they began walking toward it. Most of the doors they passed were closed and some had not been used for years. “Yeah well, she’s right.” Huxley yawned. “Wanna tell me about it cousin?” Huxley had often wondered why and indeed where Cesar had acquired an accent so distinctive. It was all rolled Rs and quick, harsh sounds. He had toyed with the possibility that Cesar just put on the accent to seem more travelled. When quizzed about it he would always throw up some unreliable nonsense about ‘staying a spell on Earth’. 

They clanked up the steps to the ship's top deck and for a moment Huxley couldn’t see anything at all for the blinding sunlight. The gunmetal grey top deck was originally flat but had been repaired so many times it had the appearance of a patchwork quilt, with bumpy sections threatening to trip anyone moving in a hurry. Self-cooled cargo crates overflowing from the hold were scattered about and geriatric auto-turrets patrolled the gunwale on powered rails and swivelling axes. For now they were the only people up top. The coils of old rope and unwashed blue deckchairs that the crew used to relax in were empty; the only other signs of life were the circling ragwitch birds that followed every Sandship around. They flew high in the sky, cawing loudly and diving down to show off their red plumage as they snapped up smaller mammals or insects. 

Huxley and Cesar walked to the gunwale and leaned over, drinking in the claustrophobic morning air. Big white letters stencilled onto the side of the Sandship showed its name: Heracles. Sloping armour contrasted with jutting buttresses that held auxiliary jet propellers. The ship’s hull pinched into a snout at the bow to give more protection. Looking down at the sand, Huxley knew the Heracles powerful hovercraft propellers kept it suspended a meter in the air on a cushion of compacted air. Tiny shrubs clung desperately to rocks which big lizards bathed on. Competing with the sound of engines and ragwitch cawing was the incessant rustling of millions of crickets. Billions of creatures called the desert home, but most of them were just too difficult to see. The desert stretched out for miles all around, towering dunes obscured clear view and seemed to shift like a giant towel in the wringer; the sun reflecting off the sands and the pockmarks on the Heracles’ hull made Huxley look away.

“I’m dying, cousin.” Cesar said, dusting flecks of sand from his shirt and beard. Huxley looked round. “It was analysed last night, my heart implant is rejecting.” Huxley gulped back any words, looking down at his bare feet. Brown and calloused. Finally he asked “How long?” “Between one and three months. Less if i don’t take it easy.” Huxley looked at Cesar. The tall and indomitable man he had been introduced to last year had definitely diminished. His broad shoulders were sinewy and slouched, his barrel chest had become paunchy and unhealthy. He had greying hair now and his eyes had lost the twinkle they once had. The rugged privateering adventurer had given way to wizened old man. “Can’t we fix it?” Huxley asked, following Cesar as he moved to a pair of deckchairs and sat heavily down.

“Not now, not after leaving this cut-price pacemaker in there all this time.” The Captain boomed with a grin, patting his chest. “How has it taken this long to show up?” Huxley asked, a tinge of red coming to his face. “Who knows cousin, but that is not what i wanted to talk to you about. I know you’ve only been aboard for a year and the crew don’t respect you yet, but i want you to succeed me as Captain of this ship.”Cesar said, taking a pair of dark sunglasses out of a shirt pocket and popping them on. Huxley wished he had some sunglasses. “Now, i know what you’re thinking: Cesar, how will i make the crew like and respect me enough to vote me in as Captain. Well i’ve been thinking and the answer seems clear.” Cesar waited for Huxley to ask, but it didn’t come; the young man was deep in thought. “We’ll embark on the biggest quest of our fair vessels lifetime!” Cesar finished, beaming at the brilliant idea. This woke Huxley from his stupor. “What did you have in mind?” “I don’t know quite yet, but something will come. I can feel it.”

Minutes past in silence, Huxley was seconds from making to go and grab breakfast when Cesar’s holopad chirruped noisily. Pinching the screen, it flew into the air and solidified into an array of information and pictures. “It’s a distress signal, from our friends on the Wombat.” Cesar said, standing up suddenly to take a better look at it. Huxley stood too. A red ping on a 3D map of the nearby desert, showed the location. The Wombat was technically the Heracles’ sister ship, being built to exactly the same specifications, in the same batch and by the same corporation. Huxley remembered heading over there for a party in his first week when both ships were docked at the same town. The crew had been kind and shared wine with them all night. Cesar was looking at him. “We are low on ammunition and medical supplies, and we don’t have any idea what is causing them distress.” After a moment Huxley realized the Captain was asking him. “I say we go in and scout the situation. They need our help and it isn’t too far off our original course.” He said, gesturing to the map which had developed contours and suggested routes. Cesar broke into a wide grin full of tombstone teeth. “Now you’re starting to think like a Captain!”