'Water...' Trudging endlessly through the sandstorm, gone a full day without water, my body has slowly begun to lose the strength to stand. Kal'tsit hasn't a water bottle, instead coldly telling me to 'hold on for a little longer,' soon after continuing on her own brisk way ahead. How long have we spent slogging through these winds? Three hours? Five? The golden sands rush through my clothes, tempest throwing the dust against my face, without reprieve, so rough against my eyes I have to keep them shut. But we can't stop yet—the Sarkaz mercenaries behind us are still fast on our tail—they're trained and tireless—even a sandstorm couldn't hold their march back. And the water... might have been drunk dry long ago. I've heard traditions that in the desert, filling empty canteens with sand can give people hope, but right now, I've drunk enough sand. Water—I just want one gulp of water. Even if it costs every coin of mine in exchange, I would do it. But in these wilds, the shine of metal has no meaning at all. Clutching this silver case tight, I grit my teeth and keep striding. My ears are battered with mournful screams. Like the deceased are howling, and ghosts are calling. Maybe Professor Thorne is among them, calling my name? But I can't quite make it out. How long has my brain spent filled with these noises now? Three minutes? Three hours? Or three years? The dust has blocked the sky out, day and night all the same now, time practically stood still, and only the people seeking to survive through all this still endure through this welter of punishment. I just wanted to research, I just wanted to offer my strength to the furtherment of science. I didn't want this—desiccating away in this sea of sands—not like this. My head aches and swells and stings, my body seemingly gone long without any sense. Am I walking, or am I watching this body named Elliot squirm? No... thinking too has become too much to ask. Only one thing wanders in my head, a single order: move. Move... move... move... ...but the desert is limitless. 'Elliot, open your mouth.' Open my mouth? I subconsciously slacken my muscles, let my lips and teeth reveal the channel to my oral cavity. A fruit coated in sand and soil lands in my mouth. Acrid? And sweet? Oh, it's water. It's water. It's water. ...... Since when, I don't know, but there's no more wind at my ears, the land has returned to peace, and there's only sun, sand, and two earthly humans walking through the dunes. ...... I gaze off far. Beyond the yellow dust, is still more yellow dust. No end is in sight, just like technical documentation scattered all across the ground to be trodden by wet leather shoes, no longer able to be reassembled, nor made sense of. In anger, I kick at the sand, and watch it tumble and slide down the dune, then blend again into the desert, as if nothing ever happened. Sand, sand. I begin to hate sand for the first time in my entire life. 'Let's go. We'll be able to replenish supplies very soon.' Kal'tsit interrupts my train of thought. Um, very soon? How soon can it be? And resupply? How much could that be? But—Kal'tsit never promises hope to anyone. But at least... I think I can see a cactus.