Their legs hang off the edge of a shorn panel alloy, peeled back and away from the fuselage like the pop tab of a soda can. It has become their perch, providing an uninterrupted view of the horizon and the burning edge of the twin suns as they make their ascent. Colors they have seen, colors they have shared before. Swatches of brilliant vermillion bleed into the dark sky as they turn their eyes up to the gradual migration from night to day.
This is the second sunrise he has shared with Nicholas after two years.
His hands hurt. He can feel the blisters swelling up beneath his gloves, but it’s a good sort of pain. One of the shovels pilfered from the rear adjoining workshed of Marlon’s Monuments leans against his left shoulder with his arm slung over it.
Vash tips back, farther and farther until he lies flat across the plane of metal. A dubious-looking raider pistol twirls off the end of his finger until it flies off and joins the pile gathered below their feet with a clatter and scattering of the other weapons caught in the tumble. He hugs the handle of the shovel against the front of his coat and clasps his fingers over his chest.
“See? I told you it was gonna be worthwhile to leave the Punisher and your belt with me for a bit,” he grins, turning his head to look up at Wolfwood. “Thought you would’ve been more excited about me asking you to take it off.”
The raiders are long gone, forced into a humiliated retreat after Vash convinced Wolfwood to put on enough of a show to lure them all near the imaging room in the remnants of the medical bay.
“Just needed you to buy me a little time and look juicy.”
Enough time for him to generate enough power to engage the magnets in the long-dormant MRI machine and summarily disarm every scavenger within a forty foot radius. There are still a plethora of dusty, greasy dirt angels and dents left on the walls where the unfortunate souls wreathed in heavy metals got pulled in along with their weapons. He left them at Wolfwood’s mercy while he hunted through the rubble for the quench button that would kill power to the magnets.
Whatever Nicholas had convinced them of by the time they were dumped on the floor, not a single scavenger stayed to challenge them.
“It all worked out. No one got hurt– mostly– they left, we were able to bury the colonists and all the others. Weirdly enough, the black box wasn’t where it was supposed to be but it didn’t look like it got destroyed, either.”
It is out there, somewhere, perhaps already pawned off to a novelty space-tech shop in the growing underbelly of December. The SEEDS ship had been caught in low orbit for over a century and a half. He would have liked to learn the story of its crew. With Luida's help, it is likely they could have cross-referenced the passengers back to their descendants.
Light continues to spill out over the sand, glazing the landscape in a warm glow. He can't recall exactly when he stopped questioning the rise of the twin suns, wondering why it is that people can go on living.
This rhythm is altogether familiar yet also new in that they have yet to choreograph their next steps. Nothing has been preordained and the rest of the world is not in need. Not at this very moment.
Angelina II waits patiently for them in the shadow of the fallen ship.
“Anywhere you wanted to stop by before we head back? The girls are probably still a day or two out so we have some time.”
