Tracy stumbled through the sand, away from Leroux, Ashton, Chasm, and from reality. The news shattered his anger, quieted his wrath, and tripped up his resolve.

The comm Leroux offered him weighed heavy in his hand. He brought it up to his face several times to call Hina, but couldn't bring himself to initiate the contact.

She needed him, needed to hear his voice. And he needed to hear hers.

He brought the comm up to his ear as it established contact.

In the distance, the wind kicked up dust, until it swelled into an expanding tempest.

Garbled noise rang in his ear, the storm interfering with the connection. A distorted voice answered the comm on the other end, but it was so broken, he could not even tell if it were Hina, or someone else answering in her stead. He swore and peered at the storm, gauging if it were heading towards him.

Spying a tall dune, he jogged towards it, up to the base, and then leaned into the steep trek.

He hiked up for a time, not aware of anything but his own failed attempts to reestablish contact again and again. Leroux's words echoing in his mind over and over.

Doctor said Hina's not doing good. She might not make it this time.

And that message was almost two days old.

They were still early in the pregnancy. He'd known there were risks, but Tracy assumed he had more time.

All the while, the howling wind grew louder, even as the turbulence inside his mind grew overwhelming.

He crested the top of the dune. Sharp stone bodies littered his surroundings, massive rough claws rising from the sand. His boot caught on a piece of shale, plunging him down the other side of the steep dune, falling on his face. Somewhere along his fall, the comm unit jumped out of his hand. Rising to his hands and knees, he scoured the shifting sand underfoot, seeking possibly his last opportunity to hear Hina's voice in this lifetime.

A glint of light caught his attention. He scrambled towards it and retrieved the comm.

The howling vortex crashed into him, ripping the comm from his hand, and dashed him into rough sand and sharp shale.

Pain wracked his body. Agony pummeled his soul.

His Hina. Alone. Millions of miles away. And there was nothing he could do to comfort her. He couldn't hold her hand, console her in a warm embrace, so close that their hearts beat as one. He couldn't even speak with her, try to ease her fears with the sound of his voice. Tracy was supposed to be her best friend, her soul mate. He'd failed to get back to her in time.

Tracy reared his head back and roared into the eye of the storm. "Why'd you force my hand? You made it so I had to come here. You allowed her to get pregnant. You knew how many we'd lost. Why God?"

He climbed to his knees, but a gust knocked him down again. His fingers clawed at the sand, and as it did, Jury dropped out of his holster.

As he reached for it, he stubbed his finger, smashing it on a stone hidden by the dust. Gnashing his teeth, he cursed and dug at the rock, uncovering it with the fervor of an archeologist discovering a dinosaur bone. The rock turned out to be bigger than his hat.

Squatting, he wrenched it free and hefted it overhead.

His glare burned into the revolver, his tool of defense. No, his instrument of death.

"Is that all I am to you? A grim reaper? A harbinger of death and ruin?" Spittle flew from his lips. "Is that why I only seed stillborns?"

He brought the rock down hard, smashing the gun. Tracy bashed the revolver until sand invaded Jury's every crevice, until the cylinder was warped beyond repair.

"I should be there with her. It's my fault."

Tears mingled with the drool pooling in the corners of his mouth.

"I could be comforting her. Now she's alone, bearing the weight by herself. Is this what you wanted?"

Sobs shook his entire body. The guilt crushed him. A fierce gale blasted him, knocking his head back so he bashed it on the rock he had held. He sprawled in the sand stunned, each limb pointing in a different direction, like a fallen angel.

The wind groaned, kicking up sand.

Tracy lay as if dead, desiring nothing more than to be buried in a tomb of dust. He prayed the weight of the silt and soil would quash him quickly, and bury his burden with him.

The air above the ground wobbled, a mirage distorting reality.

Then he saw her, his wife. She strode towards him in a gorgeous dress, her high heels highlighting her strong legs, her hips swaying like a pendulum. Hypnotic. Made his mouth salivate. The mirage came so close, he could have reached out and brushed her long hair, ran his fingers over the soft, delicate skin of her arms and face.

Her eyes pierced his soul. She didn't say anything. Her existence, the life they shared said it all. Tracy didn't deserve her. She was a gift from above. He knew that if he gave up now, it would be too soon.

Her mirage belly swelled, and she cradled it. Then Hina held open arms to him, bidding him to get to his feet and fall into her embrace.

He found his way to his feet, hands outstretched, seeking to intertwine with her. As soon as his hands touched hers, she faded. Molecule by molecule she blew away—red grains of sand cast to the wind.

Tracy looked at his hands in disbelief that hers vanished. She'd been so real. Was he losing his mind? His head throbbed and his eyes stung. But he wasn't giving up. Not yet.

"Forgive me God, for doubting. Please, strengthen me to carry on. Show me the way."

The storm passed him, continuing on, racing across the horizon. Beneath his boots, the wind had uncovered a long forgotten trapezoidal canal fashioned of smoothed rock like yellow sandstone.

He followed it for a while as it grew steeper and steeper until it plunged into a blackened tunnel. This could only be one part of a larger irrigation system that directed a once flowing water source into an ancient city or settlement. The signs of a forgotten civilization in the cavern filled his mind. Roy could be at the end of this canal, wherever it led. He had to be.

"Tracy."

His name reached his ears, this time a real call and not some hallucination from within his crumbling mind. Looking back he saw Leroux and Ashton upon Chasm, trotting down to him.

His former friend studied him. "Do you get to make contact? That storm came out of nowhere. I thought it buried you for a second. Would have buried us if we didn't hide in that cleft of boulders."

Tracy heard the sheriff's rambling, but didn't process the words. He motioned with his hand for Leroux to step down. As soon as his boots hit the sand, Tracy slugged him twice, dropping the man to the ground. "The first is for having your men try to kill me, a few days back. The second was for bringing me a message of which I can do nothing to change."

Leroux rubbed his jaw, staring back in bewilderment. A line of blood trailed down his lip.

The marshal mounted his steeder, taking his place behind the boy. He pointed at the dark tunnel entrance. "We're heading in there, and when I come out, I'll have Roy hogtied and ready to ship back to Earth."

Rubbing his jaw, Leroux got to his feet, squinting at Tracy. "Let me take the boy back to town. My speeder's close."

Tracy scowled, eyes penetrating the horizon. "He's in my care now. I'm his guardian. Can't trust anyone else with him."

"Trace—shale, your head is bleeding. Did you hit it during that gust? You're not thinking straight, man."

"You're just like everyone else, Blaine. Trying to deter me from my mission, because you're snuggled up in bed with people who need Roy. If you care about me at all, you'll head back to Noke'la and arrange a flight off this rock for me and this orphaned boy."

The sheriff tried to press the argument, drawing near to take the boy out of the saddle seat.

Tracy clasped Leroux's collar and tugged him close, grunting in his face. "Follow me, and I'll gun you down. Now, just get me a shuttle out of here. Go."

He shoved Leroux so that the sheriff stumbled over loose shale.

Leroux got to his feet in time to see the darkness of the tunnel envelop Tracy and the steeder.