The voice was unwelcome in the darkness, “You know, Jim, you sleep too much.”

His brain grudgingly awoke.

A second voice replied with a familiar metallic baritone, “Well, wouldn’t you? I mean that’s twice in a handful of days this poor fellow has used such power. He should be dead.”

Jim shook his head and blinked his eyes. Familiar walls took shape around him. He was back in the infirmary. “Ahh right. This place,” he whispered through parched lips.

A solid thump on his back knocked what little sleepiness remained out of him. “OOF!”

The clockwork man… what’s his name, slapped him on the back with a much too hard metallic hand. “This place indeed! You pretty much saved us all back there sir. Thanks to you, we’re on this lovely ship and not in some dark dungeon or one of those nightmare inducing monasteries. Well, that is, except for me. No doubt, the Prophetess would have me disassembled for my disobedience.”

Jim was pretty sure the clockwork man quivered at the last part.

His mind was still fuzzy and he asked, “Thanks to me? What did I...oh right.” The events of the afternoon before returned to him accompanied by yet another pounding headache. Jim searched his body for bandages but it seemed this time around, he’d escaped his explosion of awakened power relatively unphased.

He had so many questions on that one subject alone.

The younger voice chimed in again, “Hey, uhh Jim, I wanted to thank you for your help back there on the topside. Not to mention the whole exploding ground thing. You’re gonna have to tell me how you did that some time. Well...how you did it and survived.”

The young man next to Henry, ahh yes, Henry, was gaunt and short. Standing almost a head shorter than Jim, he looked even smaller next to the lumbering machine. The metal man met Jim’s six foot stature with a few inches to spare.

Jim’s attention was fixed on his hair however. The dirty blonde mess was cut into an awkward upside down bowl shape around his head. It was completely out of place for a crewman or anyone for that matter. In fact, it was downright comical. Despite his headache, Jim had to suppress a laugh.

“My name is Sasha,” the young man could see Jim staring, “and no, I didn’t choose this ridiculous haircut.” He nearly crossed his eyes looking upward, only adding to the comedy of his appearance. Jim’s headache intensified as he tried to hold in a burst of laughter.

The miserable youth sighed. “I’ll be happy to tell the whole story, later. For now, the cap’n wants us to get underway. She estimates a week or so of repairs on The Liberator. That doesn’t leave us much time to get to Rock Bottom and back.”

Rock Bottom was a small black-crystal mining town tucked between the lands of The Protectorate and The Alliance. The reclusive technophiles of The Protectorate rarely involved themselves in political matters outside their own realm, instead choosing to simply collect massive profits from selling airships and advanced landships to any government or trader willing to pay the price.

Two hundred years prior, the “Great Crusade” had scorched much of Ruin. The Prophetess and her awakened army rampaged across The Dune Sea into the lands to the north. The end result of that war was victory over the Federation and Alliance but the crushing defeat of the crusaders by the far advanced Protectorate forces.

The peace deal was brokered at a tiny mining town bordering the two territories. That same town was now their destination. As part of the agreement, Rock Bottom was deemed a “Neutral Town” where people from all walks and empires could conduct trade without interference.

Naturally, the town became a beacon for pirates and malcontents.

“Why Rock Bottom?” Jim inquired. He wondered if the captain’s offer of coffee still stood. Many a spider web needed clearing from his head.

Henry spoke first, “That little aerial display cost us dearly in black-crystal reserves. We barely have enough remaining to lift this old bird again. Let alone fly to safety. Thankfully, we keep a couple sloops in the hold for hunting and scavenging.”

Dragonflies, sloops, black-crystal reserves? How much storage space does this ship have? he wondered.

Henry continued, “With a little creative engineering, our people worked out a way to store the masts below decks. While you were getting your beauty sleep, the crew reassembled both ships. The first just left for the eastern wastes to do some hunting. That leaves us with a simple trader’s errand. Exchange some goods, get some crystal, and get back.”

At least I’ll be on the ground, he thought with some relief.

“Not to complain, but why am I going along?” Jim asked.

Sasha cut in before Henry could speak, “You are a trader aren’t you? We assumed, as someone who sails the wastes, you’ve made port in Rock Bottom a few times.”

The kid wasn’t wrong. Although Jim preferred to avoid civilization, he had anchored in Rock Bottom on more than a few occasions. He knew the area well. Despite his general mistrust of everyone, Jim had learned early on, every good trader needs contacts. He had at least a few in most free ports.

Jim shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve been there. So, who all is going?” He’d hoped the charming and distractingly beautiful Captain Rychist was coming.

“Sasha and I will be accompanying you. The best company around in my opinion,” Henry replied with another unwelcome slap on Jim’s back.

Jim sighed inwardly, No lovely captain on this trip. Just a kid with a goofy haircut and a chatty clockwork man.

***

The twilight winds were finally stilling. Night was setting in, and the broken moon began its slow crawl across the sky. This far south there was no shrubbery, no trees, just sand and rock. Stealing a rare quiet moment, which were few around Henry, Jim closed his eyes and breathed in the desert air.

At night, the temperature shifted from raging inferno to slightly more tolerable smoulder. Still, it was a welcome relief. Most of the day had consisted of sailing work paired with baking in the unforgiving sun. The campfire was as small as they could get away with, being just large enough to cook a few scorpions and sage seeds.

One thing had been bothering Jim all day. He was still cautiously quiet most times, but now curiosity got the best of him. He turned to Sasha and pointed, “Ok, I have to know. What’s with the haircut?”

Henry’s luminescent body stuck out against the growing pitch black of night as he too turned to Sasha. “Yes, please do tell our friend. I’m sure he’d love to know.”

Jim couldn’t be certain in the dim glow of the fire but, he was pretty sure Sasha was blushing. The young man sighed, “It’s a punishment.”

Jim probed further.

“A punishment?”

He tried again.

“Umm..for what exactly?”

“For theft.”

Jim waited. Finally, Sasha continued. “I joined the crew a few weeks ago, after they raided the Tanhar Monastery. I’d only been there a few months. so the brainwashing was easier to break.”

“How did they find you in the first place?” Jim asked.

Sasha sighed again, “One of those damned priests found me in the back alleys of Togsov City. Unlike you, I never had a big awakening. Chances are, unless I was somehow in a situation of life and death, I never would have.”

Jim motioned for Sasha to continue.

“You see, unlike you, I never experienced a natural awakening. Those guys have some sort of ability to detect the potential in people and draw it out within those monasteries. Anyhow, they caught me, brought me north and began my re-education.”

Henry interrupted, something he did frequently, “What does this have to do with the haircut?”

Ignoring the question, Sasha continued, “I was only a few months into it when Captain Rychist and The Liberator came along. They rescued me and a few other awakened from the school. I became a crewman and was brought into the fold.”

Sheepishly, he added, “Growing up on the streets, you learn certain things. Pick up habits and so on. You know the saying, old habits die hard?”

Jim nodded.

“Well, about a week ago we were all eating dinner in the mess hall, and I noticed an untouched bowl of cactus fruit and allta pudding just sitting on a corner table. It looked delicious. I waited a few minutes and, when nobody sat down in front of it… well... I sorta maybe swiped it. I figured finder’s keeper’s, you know?”

Jim raised an eyebrow and commented, “That haircut seems like a steep punishment for lifting an unclaimed bowl of pudding.”

Henry was glowing a few shades brighter now barely containing his laughter. “Oh that wasn’t just any bowl my friend. When they caught him, he learned just whose it was!”

Sasha continued, somber, “Yeah...it was apparently a special treat for Captain Rychist from the chef. He’d been working on it all day. I uhh… stole her favorite dessert.”

“So,” Jim cleared his throat to cover a laugh, “I should look forward to such a haircut if I piss her off?”

Sasha chortled, “Nah, more likely she will simply knock you on your ass. Steal a bowl of her pudding though? She’ll use that bowl for your very own haircut such as you see here.” He tried to look up at his hair, again appearing cross eyed as he did so.

All three of them had a good laugh. It was the first time Jim had laughed like that in… longer than he could remember. He stroked his chin, musing to the others, “Note to self, if you steal the captain’s food, go for a much larger bowl.”

Around a small campfire, in the middle of a very large desert, sharing stories and laughter, three people began a friendship.

***

It was almost midnight. The broken moon was high in the sky. Its many small pieces danced and sparkled against a beautiful tapestry of stars as it slowly made its way to the horizon.

He had always been a creature of the night. Even after the most exhausting of days, he found himself laying out on the deck of his rickety cutter watching the sky turn slowly by, wondering at its endless mysteries. The desert may have dulled his manners, but never his mind.

Jim wandered back to the sloop, leaving his comrades asleep around the glowing embers of the fire. According to Henry, clockwork men did indeed sleep and dream “Just as humans do.” Henry’s snores sounded more like a light brushing of metal on metal. Jim grinned as he wondered, how does he snore? He doesn’t even have a throat.

Although anchored, the sloop still bobbed in the gentle night air. He always felt more comfortable on the deck of a ship than the sands of the wastes. Jim somehow felt more alive on the constantly changing winds.

His eyes were growing heavy and, finally, sleep began to take him. The gentle rocking of the ship and the warm air on his skin ushered him quietly out of consciousness.

“The desert has a certain beauty to it, does it not?”

Jim shot up to his feet and reached for his scimitar. The unfamiliar voice set him instantly on edge. Looking around the murky darkness, he spotted a small figure sitting on the starboard rail of the creaking ship.

Through star and moonlight, he made out the crooked teeth of an old man grinning before him. The person spoke in a raspy voice, “Do not worry boy, I intend no harm. Besides, what could I do? I am but an old man.”

His voice was as dry and ancient as the desert itself. Something in its tone though set Jim at ease. The adrenaline wore down, and his quaking muscles steadied.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” Jim whispered warily, still unwilling to sheath his weapon.

“Nobody special. Not like you anyhow,” the man replied as a bony finger protruded from his ragged tunic. “As for what I want, there are many things I want. The usual things. My youth back, second chances, happiness, family. You know, the nostalgic longings of most old men.” A wheezing chuckle escaped the stranger’s throat.

Jim was unsure if the man was crazy, senile, or both. Something in his tone forsook a sharp intelligence though. He sounded ancient but somehow much younger than he looked. He took a breath and tried again, “What I mean is, what do you want from me? What are you doing here in the middle of the desert?”

The old man slid easily to a standing position from his perch on the railing. Again, his aged body revealed a much younger gait. As the man neared, Jim caught a glimpse of a long, unkempt beard of white. The man’s face was wrinkled and worn. No doubt, a victim of years under the unforgiving sun.

It was the eyes though. Blue as the midday sky, they seemed to sparkle in the starlight. They were the eyes of a younger man. Everything about him was a contradiction.

Turning away, the man pointed eastward. “Have you ever wondered what happened to it?”

“To what?” Jim asked.

“To the moon, boy! Tell me the desert hasn’t dulled your sense of hearing.”

“I suppose I have,” Jim replied.

Still looking east, the man continued, “Legend says, it was broken by the gods as punishment for mankind’s arrogance. Its ruinous passage was meant to remind us that we, being so much smaller are that much more fragile.”

Receiving no reply from the usually quiet Jim, the man continued, “You see, it is said, we rebelled against the gods. We warred with them, and as punishment, they destroyed the paradise they had created for us. For millennia, our world has suffered greatly from those mistakes.”

Jim continued to watch the broken moon dip below the western horizon. As it fell, it seemed to grow larger. Long milky lines of light were broken by the shadows of boulders among the sand. Some of the sand on the rocky archway they had moored the ship to seemed to sparkle in the glow.

He laughed inwardly at the absurdity of the conversation. Talking to a stranger in the middle of nowhere should have alarmed him. More than that, the boat was only a few dozen meters from where he’d left his shipmates to rest. Yet, they seemed oblivious as they slept away the prior day’s stresses.

I must be dreaming, he concluded. Turning back to the old man, he asked, “What do you mean by suffered greatly?”

The stranger strode to Jim’s side. Looking out, he swept his hand to the west, “Tell me Jim, what do you see?” Jim was confused. “Uhh, I see dunes, the broken moon, and in the distance, a few rock outcroppings.”

The man grunted as he moved his hands across the entire scene. “To the north, the Eternal Mountains and the Black Forest hide away the only slightly less parched plains of The Northern Tribes. To the east, beyond the great dune sea, a twisted jungle filled with deadly dragons and creatures beyond your imagination destroys all who venture in. None of your generation have survived the horrors of the desert to reach it but, it is there.”

Jim listened intently to the stranger’s words. “To the south, the Holy Lands burn under a relentless sun but a great evil rises from the inferno. In the east and deep south, far over the horizon, the salt sea consumes man and metal. Our world is an unforgiving wasteland. It never gives. Only takes.”

Jim was sure it was a dream, “You know, that’s quite a pessimistic view of the world. Are you sure we aren’t related?”

The man cackled and wheezed. “It’s good to see the desert hasn’t robbed you of a sense of humor at least. Indeed, our world is a perilous place. It was not always this way but, for nearly ten thousand years, mankind has served a steep sentence whether he realizes it or not.”

The man straightened a bit as he concluded, “Now though, the sentence has been served. A new day will soon dawn. How lucky you are to see such times!”

Jim stared upward at the twinkling stars. “Quite a story. But, it’s still just a story. What does -” Jim looked down. The man had vanished. He was talking to himself.

As dreams go, that one is one of the craziest, he thought.