Chapter 5
The Fires of Hope



The orange fire cracked and hissed, the stack of burning wood collapsing a little. In the flickering light Con sat, holding Essa’s limp body in his arms.

“Please…” he choked out through hot tears, “please don’t go…please don’t…”



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N-81 picked his way past wreckage, still smoldering. His bright, white light slashed through bitter darkness like a sword. Boomer stumbled behind him, in shock. N-81 just couldn’t understand Con’s anger. It wasn’t his fault, was it? But even still, why didn’t he feel bad? Did not feeling bad mean it was his fault? Hatred burned hot through his circuits, and his internal cooling system buzzed with activity to keep it from overheating his system. He was mad at himself. Mad for not feeling. Mad for not worrying. Mad for not being human enough. He barely noticed when he reached the med bay and kicked the hydraulic door in with artificial frustration. He only noticed this when he saw Boomer standing back with a surprised look on his face. N-81 grew confused. An outburst? From him? The illogic puzzled him, so he tried not to think about it.

“This is the Med-bay,” N-81 announced, gesturing to the door. Boomer nodded, but did not take his eyes off N-81, cautiously stepping around him. N-81 followed in as Boomer began practically tearing cabinet doors off hinges to find the medicine. N-81 knew it was against protocol to administer anti-toxins without first diagnosing the problem, but he kept quiet. Boomer found their holy grail, a small bottle of green pills, and snatched it up out of the storage locker. Boomer bolted out of the room, snagging a med-kit on his way out. N-81 followed solemnly.