Into the Silence

by Victoria Timm

Even during the most ideal of times, Anton was only ever okay as a pilot – and this was certainly not one of those times. His ship, the ever-faithful Pchela, rocked with every blast as he did his best to stabilize it. Blinding flashes danced across the hull of the ship, every burst like a snapshot of the sun. There was a lot this scavenging vessel was prepared for, but taking active fire was not one of them. He looked back through the bay doors; his co-pilot Dez had not returned. The lifeline outside was still taut. 

Anton unbuckled from his seat just as the Pchela was hit again. He began drifting towards the ceiling–their artificial gravity had just been knocked out. 

A feeling of curiosity and fear followed by a high-pitched voice abruptly waded through Anton’s thoughts, “What’s going on?” He looked to see Dmitri across from him–also floating. The black form of his slimy body was strange in zero-g; it slowly moved from shape to shape like oil stirred in water. 

Anton looked at him and then signed, “Dez is still out there scavenging, and we’re being attacked–I’m not sure by what. I’m going to activate the wench and pull him back in.” 

Anton clicked a button on his suit and activated its magnetism. His legs were pulled down, and he worked across the ship to the wench. He steadied himself on the bar of the thick, reinforced bay door. Next to it was a lever connected to the wench, and Anton pulled it down, feeling particularly weak without any gravity. The wire outside began to retract, pulling Dez in tow. Light reflected from Dez’s helmet, and Anton could faintly make out his features: Sharp teeth poked out from the jutting snout in the center of his face, and two yellow-orange eyes were on either side. He seemed far too tall for his body, which curved naturally into a hunched-over C-shape. The short-range radio from Dez’s suit connected to Anton’s and chirped a burst of static into his ears. On impulse, he attempted and failed to cover his ears. 

His co-pilot looked incredulously at him from behind thick glass then said, “I wasn’t done! I don’t have anything, why did you pull me back in?” 

“I wasn’t going to leave you behind, was I?” Anton signed. 

The ship rocked, and a wide-eyed expression came over the skalos, “We’re being attacked?! Why didn’t you say anything?!” 

“I did, Dez. You just weren’t checking your messages.” Anton signed matter-of-factly. Dez at least had the decency to look embarrassed. 

Anton opened the bay doors and pulled his co-pilot in, and they ran to the cockpit in the front of the ship, strapping into their seats. Dez’s light green scales almost seemed white when he saw the screen labeled ‘ship status.’

“So much damage… we’re all going to die…” he said in an anxious whisper. 

Dmitri, still floating, psychically projected to them, “I’m sure it’ll be fine!” 

Dez let out a short, mournful laugh then the two pilots sent the damaged ship blasting into the silence. 

Anton looked back at the debris field they were scavenging in; It spread out into the shape of an orb; forgotten metal, disregarded ships broken in chunks, and satellites all clumped together adrift in space. Another shot fired at them, finally revealing its origin. It emanated from a satellite in the center of the field. To Anton, the satellite looked almost like a metal version of a shoe box that had been stepped on. Its center had collapsed in on itself, and there was a design of a crescent moon on its side that looked, given the damage, more like a shriveled slice of an orange than anything else. Anton quickly turned the ship as another

white blast streaked across their view—barely missing them. The light momentarily obscured the debris field behind them. 

The field orbited in the distant gravitational reaches of a mid-sized planet below. A thick gaseous atmosphere covered the planet, but Anton suspected it was actually terrestrial in nature. It rotated slowly below and was the nearest thing that wasn’t actively shooting at them. The Pchela zoomed towards it and shook again, but a light blocking their vision did not follow. 

“Guys, something’s happening in the back of the ship,” Dmitri said, pointing at the engine room. 

An audible groan came from Dez, “No, no, no! Whatever that was, it wasn’t good. Just try and fly carefully—we don’t want to make this any worse.” 

Even if both of Anton’s hands weren’t fastened to the controls right now, he probably wouldn’t have dignified that with a response. How does one fly carefully while being shot at? Anton pointed the controls down, facing it towards the planet in front of them, and flashed a mischievous look at his scaly co-pilot, then put maximum energy into the accelerators. 

They soon broke through the planet’s exosphere, flying through gas colored in dense layers of green. Almost reading Anton’s mind, Dez pressed a few buttons with a click of his claws and wings jutted out from the sides of the Pchela. They glided through colossal clouds as Dmitri finally fell back down—the planet taking over from their damaged artificial gravity. 

“So what now?” Dmitri thoughts echoing in their minds. 

Anton signed, “We land here where it’s safe and see how bad things are with the ship.” He was grateful to his companions for having learned enough Russian Sign Language so he didn’t have to type to communicate anymore. The keyboard strapped to his arm was cumbersome and he felt like its tinny robotic voice didn’t represent him very well. 

After a few hours of gliding, Anton set out the landing gear and led the ship through the atmosphere. Below them they could see planetary scars of long winding canyons, mesas, and tall spires. The light that filtered through the gas above tinted everything in green, but Anton suspected that in a more neutral light it would all look like different shades of muddy brown. He gently guided the Pchela, landing it in a soft spot of soil. He then clicked off the engines and watched as the ship settled. Dez, the designated ship mechanic, hobbled over to the engine room—his long tail swiping Anton as he walked away. 

Anton took off his spacesuit and fell back into his chair, exhausted, running his hands through his thick black hair. “Are you okay, Anton?” Dmitri thought, “Your emotions are all over the place.” 

“It’s just my nerves. I don’t think I’ll be able to relax for a while.” Anton thought back. While Dmitri’s psychic link allowed the crew to communicate directly, only Dmitri preferred it. Anton felt it was quicker, but harder for him to control. It felt like trying to walk underwater. So he’d usually sign if he could get away with it. 

Dmitri’s constantly shifting form briefly settled on a thoughtful face before gradually drooping down the length of his body, “Oh. Can I help?” 

Anton smiled then signed, “I’ll be fine. I’m just glad to be out of that suit.” He walked over to a reel-to-reel tape player on the wall and turned it on, “Now, how do you feel about Prokofiev?” 

“How’s it going in there?” Anton’s robotic voice said after he typed. Dez had been busy for the last couple of hours in the bottom of the ship, working in the engine room. 

“Not great, not great.” Dez said, not looking up. “We’ve taken a lot of damage. If this thing wasn’t so well-built, we probably would’ve been boiled alive in this atmosphere. Where are you from again? Herth or something like that? Either way, you guys make great ships.” 

Anton sighed, he knew Dez knew the actual name, “What’s wrong with it?”

“Well, the biggest issue is that most of our fuel cells burst during the fight. I’m doing what I can with the parts we have, but that isn’t something I can just fix. We’re gonna need new ones.” 

Anton rubbed his temple at the thought. They were dead broke. There wasn’t a lot of money in scavenging, but he figured he had no choice now. 

“How far can we travel with what’s left?” 

“Maybe to the next planet over or a moon or something, if we’re lucky.” 

“Think we can make it to the nearest station?” 

Dez rubbed the side of his neck, then hesitantly replied, “I don’t want to make any promises. We are away from the usual trade routes. I’d have to check the charts, but it’s a good ship, so I wouldn’t be surprised if it could. Y’know, assuming we don’t get shot at again.” 

“Okay, looks like I’ll have to try and make some money out here. I’m sure there’s something to scavenge.” 

Dez stood on the ladder and poked his snout out of the dark room. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. And look on the bright side, we didn’t die in the cold vacuum of space, even though I was sure we would. And who knows, maybe you’ll scavenge up enough for some decent food. Now can you hand me that wrench?” 

Anton caught his eyes in the mirror as he put on his space suit; just as brown as they’ve ever been. So much of his life had changed since he was unwillingly separated from Earth that he was grateful for any consistency he could find. He paused to take a long look at himself. His soft brown skin had paled into an light olive and his uneven black hair was just as unkempt as ever; especially since he was forced to become his own hairdresser. He cut it often because he hated any hair rubbing against his neck–it didn’t help that all he had were only knives on board. He absentmindedly rubbed the scars on his chest before zipping up the inner part of his suit. Once the suit was on, he posed for the mirror in a mock display of vanity. He hated how he looked in this thing; why after hundreds of years of space travel hadn’t anyone thought to make human spacesuits fashionable? Plus, he could swear it made him look shorter than he already was. He sighed and strapped the keyboard to his arm. 

Dmitri was atop the couch when Anton came out of their quarters, his body had settled into a rather lumpy-looking pile of black goo. The couch was positioned in an odd diagonal way after having floated in zero gravity. Anton pointed at Dmitri and then signed, “You’ll be coming with me. You can help me scavenge.” Due to how he communicated, Dmitri had proven to be a useful translator. You never knew what you had to be prepared for. Anton walked over to the engine room and then typed, “Dez, you’ll be in charge of repairing the ship. Which, I guess, you were already doing.” 

Dez poked out his head and flashed a sharp-toothed grin, “Leaving all the fun stuff to me then?” He raised both of his arms and stretched in an exaggerated manner, “Finally, some alone time.” 

Dmitri sprung off the couch, “Yes! We get to go exploring!” but Anton didn’t share his joy. Salvaging was not how he’d want to unwind after being attacked. Oh well, the feeling of joy Dmitri was emanating wasn’t something he wanted to shatter. He let the black slime climb up his shoulders and they headed off. 

The first thing that the sensors picked up was that this planet was incredibly hot. Anton’s suit was heat resistant up to a point, but it still made him uneasy. Outside of Earth, he had found very few environments well-suited for humans. It would be a lot more tolerable if he had found his spacesuit comfortable; he clenched his jaw and forced himself not to squirm. Dmitri, who was seemingly so unbothered by the heat that one might’ve thought that this was his natural habitat, casually rode atop Anton without any protection. 

Anton activated the transceiver on his suit and scanned for radio signals. That was usually a good place to start when scavenging. He went through frequency after frequency but heard nothing but static. That hardly surprised him, he had a feeling this place was uninhabited. But still, it was hardly ideal. 

Gravity was stronger here and every step left a deep mark. His suit compensated for the difference, but he still felt a weight to his normal movements where usually there were none. “Do you know where we’re headed?” Dmitri thought to him in a singsong tone. “I thought we’d walk to that ridge to the north and scout out the area. If we have any luck, maybe somebody will have crashed here.” 

A few quiet steps followed before Dmitri said, “That wouldn’t really be lucky, would it?” “No, not for them. That’s part of the job though. Sometimes what’s good for you is bad luck for someone else.” 

A moment passed before Dmitri replied, “Why do ya do it then?” 

Anton gave him a look as if it was obvious, “You mean outside of keeping the Pchela afloat and feeding us?” 

“Well, those are good reasons, I guess. But why this job?” 

“I didn’t really have any choice. I didn’t plan on being stranded on this side of the galaxy. A lot of my skills back in my solar system don’t really apply here. I feel lucky to find any way to make money, to be honest.” 

“So it’s not like this back home?” 

“I mean, maybe a long time ago, but certainly not anymore. Back home we provide for everyone’s basic needs—you’re entitled to it just by existing. It seems to be the opposite here. Sometimes wondering if you’re doing the right thing is a luxury, Dmitri” 

A wave of sadness that wasn’t his own bubbled up in Anton’s psyche. Dmitri seemed so innocent sometimes, it didn’t feel good to burst that. It was something he wished he could protect. 

Anton and Dmitri stood atop the ridge and surveyed their surroundings. The wind whistled threatening to push them back at any moment. Anton pressed a button on the arm of his spacesuit, and his vision was artificially magnified like that of a telescope. There was a deep canyon below them, and he scanned up and down the length of it. Ten minutes passed without a word until suddenly he looked at Dmitri and signed for him to come with him. The two lonely figures followed along the edge of the canyon for many kilometers, pausing like clockwork to assess the landscape. Scavenging could be tedious work. 

“I think I see something down there,” Dmitri thought. Anton wiped the planetary dust that had been accumulating on his visor and zoomed in, “You’re right, I see something too.” It was a giant mound of rocks—almost quarry-like. “There’s no way that’s natural, let’s wait and see if anything comes.” Anton plopped down on the ground and gestured for Dmitri to sit. 

“Do you remember when we met?” Dmitri suddenly ventured. 

“Remember? Of course I do. It wasn’t that long ago.” Anton signed back. “I’m not sure what I would’ve done if we hadn’t. Everything is still so new and it’s scary to figure it all out.”

Anton smiled at him and then signed, “I know what that feeling’s like. It wasn’t so different when I first ended up here. I didn’t know a thing,” 

“I remember how you felt when we met. You were so happy.” 

“Well, it was the first time I could really be understood by someone, at least in a while. It was like a breath of fresh air—even if it took some getting used to. Thinking to talk is a little different than signing.” 

Dmitri giggled, “I don’t mind if you sign, you basically think whatever you’re trying to say while you do it.” 

“And to think, I thought you were just a quick learner,” he sat motionless for a moment then asked, “Do you miss home?” 

Dmitri seemed surprised by the question then answered, “No. This place- this plane, weird as it is, is more of a home to me than the last one ever was.” 

Anton watched the canyon below and did not give a reply. 

An unremarkable hour passed before they decided to descend the cliff-side. Climbing was actually a pretty regular part of scavenging and that surprised Anton at first, but eventually it had all made sense: Anything valuable that was easy to get to had already been taken. Everything else was left to the brave and foolish. He pulled out a thick wire from his bag; he would magnetize his suit so could descend with it; Insurance that he wouldn’t fall. In scavenging, as with many things in life, always having a fail-safe was essential. 

He threw the wire down the chasm. “Ready?” Dmitri made his way to the top of Anton’s shoulders and gave what could best be described as an enthusiastic nod. He felt a sudden shift as he activated his suit’s magnetism. 

Pulling himself down the rope was harder than it had ever been; he could certainly feel the difference in gravity. Every moment it was as if the ground was daring him to fall. His hand found a notch in the rock and held tight as his foot grasped in the dark. The wind drowned out all other thoughts, and with it came a layer of dirt that he didn’t have the luxury to wipe off. He climbed through an increasingly narrow darkness. 

His foot touched the ground, kicking up a dust cloud. Anton stopped to catch his breath and clear his vision. And to think, getting down is the easy part… He thought to himself. Dmitri launched like a spring off of his shoulders onto the ground below. “Hurry up. I wanna explore!” He said impatiently to Anton, blissfully unaware of his pain. “Dmitri, I just climbed a cliff. Can I at least have a second?” 

When they eventually made it to the pile of minerals, they could see it was made up of small black stones carefully stacked. Anton picked up the nearest one and activated his suit to identify it. A digital window appeared on the viewfinder of his helmet and displayed the stone, information about it, and on average what it was worth. 

“Oh, wow. Rupoxite. It’s valuable. Should serve our needs quite nicely.” 

“So this’ll fix our ship?” 

“No, no. But it’ll get us the money to do it.” 

“Isn’t this somebody’s—rocks just don’t stack themselves. I don’t think we should be taking it.” 

“Listen, Dmitri.” Anton got on his knees and leveled with him. “Sometimes you have to do bad things in order to survive. I don’t feel good about this, but I’d feel even worse if we were stranded out here.” 

“Anton, this isn’t right.” 

Anton, ignoring him, grabbed his bag and started filling it up with rupoxite. It quickly became apparent this was going to take multiple trips; Possibly multiple days. He clicked on his radio and typed a message to Dez that they had found something. The moment he had finished, he saw a movement in the corner of his eyes. 

He grabbed Dmitri’s slimy form and then hid as quickly as he could behind the pile of stones. “What was that, Anton?” Dmitri asked, feeling a heavy presence of fear. “I saw something—or someone coming towards us. I didn’t get a good look, but I know I saw something.” Dmitri gave him a look that attempted to say I told you so, but with his droopy face, it was anyone’s guess what it meant. Dmitri quietly contorted his body around the corner before Anton could object. 

A hunched-over figure pushed a cart down the canyon floor. Its skin was a loose layer of orange-brown metal with years of corrosion marking every part of it. The creature lurched forward with every step—almost limp-like. Cracks in its body revealed the gears and wiring below and the one eye in the center of its square head flickered a dim yellow. It slowly made its way to the pile and then dumped rupoxite from the cart. Dmitri slowly made his way back to Anton and relayed what he had seen. 

Anton peeked over the pile to make sure the automaton was gone and the moment he was sure, he started to stuff the valuable stones in his bag. Dmitri’s whole body jumped, “You can’t take that!” A wave of frustration pierced through Anton. “We DEFINITELY know who owns that now.” Anton stopped and thought to Dmitri, “I genuinely don’t know what you want. How do you expect for us to get off this planet? We’ll be lucky if we can get to the nearest refueling station. Repairing the ship comes first.” Dmitri shrunk back, “We’ve barely explored. We can find something that doesn’t involve stealing.” Dmitri wrapped his body around Anton’s leg. And with hesitance, he let his shoulders drop and a long, shaky breath followed. “Anton, we can find another way. It’s going to be okay.” 

He waited for a moment before deciding to empty his bag. They looked at each other briefly then headed back to where they had left the rope. Something glimmering in the pale green light caught his eyes and Anton bent down to pick it up. It was a long metallic piece of machinery; He had scavenged thousands of pieces like it before. He turned it around in his hands, It had metal parts of orange and brown with lots of exposed wiring. It looked like an arm. 

Dmitri inched over to get a better look, “I bet you that that robot dropped it. We should probably follow it and return it.” Anton gave his companion a dirty look, he wasn’t in the mood to be shot at again. But before he had any time to react, Dmitri sprung up, grabbed the part from him and hurried in the direction of the robot. For a moment, Anton stood in disbelief then went after him. 

The machine left noticeable tracks wherever it went, so it wasn’t difficult for them to follow. Anton did not like this idea, it could get very dangerous very quickly. He supposed they could put the part in a place where the machine was sure to find it, but a single glance at Dmitri, slimy face in a grin, told him that wasn’t going to happen. Oh no, he’s EXCITED, He thought hopelessly. 

The canyon twisted around in bends and forks, making Anton wonder if there was once a river here as he trudged along, following the machine that had already made a remarkable amount of distance. It limped forward with its cart unaware that it was being tracked. It did seem to be missing an arm, it had three when there was room for four. Dmitri’s voice poked through Anton’s thoughts, “Come on, go and talk to it with your keyboard.” “Hey, talking is your job. I brought you here to translate.” he signed

“The way I talk doesn’t work with artificial minds.” Anton did not like this. Not one bit. He rotated a dial on his keyboard and set its sound library to Esromic, a common trade language, before gingerly walking up to the robot. 

It slowly turned to look at the human who fumbled as he typed, “Here’s the thing, we found this part and I think it’s yours?” Anton’s voice dribbled out in short bursts as he struggled to find the words in Esromic. He flashed the part up and gave his best smile, before realizing that the robot might not know how to interpret that. An unblinking yellow eye stared back at him and Anton felt his hands type faster than his thoughts, “Well, I suppose, I could help you put it back on, If you want.” The machine did not seem to respond. “Or not. You know, I’m fine with just giving it back too.” He stuck out the arm and gestured with his other hand for it to take it. 

The machine grabbed it and Anton quickly let go. He instinctively jumped back, sweat inching down his forehead. It unsuccessfully tried to reattach it and a wave of pity flashed over Anton, “Hang on, hang on.” He typed, “I can probably figure this out.” He went through his bag and brought out some tools. Machinery was more of Dez’s forte, but he could manage. After all, he had been repairing the Pchela long before Dez had ever joined the crew. “Can you talk?” he asked. The machine pointed to its face; There was an empty space where a mouth should have been. Anton nodded and pointed to his own mouth then typed, “Me too.” The machine pointed to its chest, engraved in tiny characters were numbers and a single letter in Esromic. “57-A?” Anton typed as he leaned in closer for a better look, “Is that your name?” The machine did not react. Oh right, he had literally translated again: Esromic used base-16, unlike his native Russian’s base-10. He was never going to get used to that and he stood motionless as he did the mental math. “87-A? Is that what you call yourself?” The robot silently held out its detached arm. Anton looked down at Dmitri and then signed to him, “I guess that means yes?” 

He spent a couple of minutes reattaching the part and although he knew it was silly, he kept expecting the robot to wince in pain as he worked. Thankfully it was an easy fix—no wincing needed. 87-A cautiously moved its reattached limb and Anton pictured a look of joy on its expressionless face. It then got up and gestured for Anton and Dmitri to come with it. He debated with himself whether or not to follow, but his decision was made for him when Dmitri skipped ahead. He let out a huge breath and walked alongside him. 

87-A led them until they arrived at a crack in the rock wall of the canyon. It descended deep into the planet. “This must be one of the mines they got all those stones from,” Dmitri thought to Anton. The robot signaled them to follow as it walked down into the depths. Anton activated the light on his suit and radioed their coordinates back to the ship. He felt like they were wasting their time here, convinced they’d return empty-handed. 

The two lonely lights from Anton were complimented by the dim yellow light of the robot’s singular eye; the only lights in the tunnel. Anton’s spacesuit displayed the heat in the lower left corner of his sight, Its readings ticked higher and higher with every step. Eventually, the path stopped descending and continued forward through two sharp walls of jagged rock. Machines similar to 87-A were mining on both sides in neatly organized lines. 

87-A pointed to the other machines. Few had their entire outer platings intact, while many had their wires completely exposed, metal jutting out in shape angles revealing delicate machinery caked in years of dust. As Anton shined his light few registered it and he scanned the cavern until it fell on a machine that had its entire face caved in. He looked down to see Dmitri cowering behind his leg, looking at the corner of the mine. There was a pile of metallic corpses stacked a meter tall.

Gravity seemed to pull Anton down, his breath short and tight, he closed his eyes, sickly pressure building, ears ringing, cold. 

When he opened his eyes, 87-A looked expectantly at them. Did it really expect him to fix this when he could barely provide enough for his crew as is? “I’m so sorry,” he managed to type. “I really don’t know how I can help.” The machine grabbed his gloved hand and guided him forward. 

They came to an enclosed nook of the mine where broken machine parts were organized into piles. 87-A pointed to the arm Anton had reattached then pointed to the parts on the ground. The pressure building on Anton suddenly seemed to weigh ten times heavier and he felt a surge of frustration grow in him. If he could’ve just taken those stones, they wouldn’t be in this situation. 

87-A exited the room and quickly returned with another machine. This new robot was missing one of its legs and had no eye; It held on tightly to 87-A, as if holding its grip was the only thing preventing it from crumbling into dust. A quiet tinny sound emanated from it and it took Anton a moment to recognize it as Esromic. It pointed at him then barely audibly asked, “You can help?” 

Anton hesitated for a moment before replying, “I can’t. I’m sorry, I really am.” Tears blurred his vision and he felt like he was drowning. 

Dmitri hugged his leg, “Anton, it’ll be okay. Just do what you can, just like you did with 87-A. I’ll be here right here with you. It’ll be enough.” 

He took a deep breath, “Okay, where do I start?” 

The borders of Anton’s vision focused in and he entered a state of timelessness. One after another, in a ceaseless wave, robots came to be repaired. Many of the fixes were easy enough; They might have been handled with regular maintenance, but none of these machines seemed to have been touched in decades. With the passage of time, minor issues had cascaded into major problems. Even with the most distant of interplanetary mining operations, there was a certain level of care the big mining corps would take. This level of disregard was nearly unfathomable. 

“Does anyone ever come by to check up on you? Or maybe come by to pick up what you’ve mined?” Anton typed, asking a question he suspected he already knew the answer of. One of the machines went to the pile and picked up a piece of scrap metal with a printed design of a crescent moon then pointed at it. It was identical to the design they had seen this morning. 

The frail machine from earlier, one of the few with a working vocal processor, lightly touched the outside of Anton’s suit and nearly whispered, “We have not seen our creators in an extended period of time.” The voice drifted out for a moment then continued, “My internal solar clock is not functioning enough for anything more precise.” 

Dmitri looked at Anton then projected to him, “They’ve been left for dead.” 

“Okay, so you haven’t seen your creators in a bit. Why are you still mining?” Anton typed. It waited a moment, as if processing, before it replied, 

“We’re programmed to follow our commands.” 

Anton went to rub his cheek, but hit helmet, “Wait, that’s something you have to follow, even if you’re falling apart?” The robots shook their bodies lightly back and forth in agreement. “And you’ve been collecting this material that nobody has been picking up?” They continued shaking. 

Anton began quickly typing, “Listen, I don’t know if I can repair you all. But maybe there’s a way I can still help you.” He paused for a moment, a yellow square appeared on the side of his visor; his suit would need to recharge soon. “We have to go for now. I wish I could do more, but I just need to think.” He almost couldn’t bare to look at their faces; every single one of them was a canvas to imprint guilt on. He felt like he was just another person leaving them behind.

The distant sun set over the desolate landscape, a pinpoint of light glowing through the green haze growing darker and darker until the world lost all shape. Anton and Dmitri reached the ship covered in such a thick layer of dust that they were hardly sure if they had made it or not. 

Anton knocked on the side of the hull and they waited until Dez’s abrasive voice greeted them from a speaker on the outside, “Oh, you’re back. Glad to hear you two aren’t dead.” The doors of the Pchela rose for them, illuminating the night. Anton rushed inside, eager to get out of his suit. “Hey! Hey! You’re getting dust everywhere!” Dez said in rising tones of frustration. Anton sticking out his tongue and not even bothering to reply, ran to go change leaving Dez raising up his arms in a bitter defeat. Dmitri sprung up on the couch and started excitedly telling him what had happened while they were on the planet. 

Once he had finished he asked, “So what didja do while we were gone?” 

Dez flashed a mocking grin, “Oh, I had lots of adventures. Repairing this ship was just an absolute delight.” 

Dmitri gave his best smile back and with no hint of irony replied, “Oh that’s great then! I’m glad you had fun.” Dez gave up, they were hopeless. 

Anton, leaning out from the threshold of the ship’s quarters, furrowed his brow and signed, “Did you change the filtration settings again? I’m feeling dizzy.” Dez nonchalantly grabbed a patch, stuck it to his shoulders then walked to a panel on the wall and pushed down a slider labeled “Nitrogen Levels”. 

Anton returned freshly changed to Dez leaning against the ship walls, his long arms crossed. “Dmitri told me about your adventure and I couldn’t help but notice you didn’t bring back a single thing.” Anton ignored him as he picked up his spacesuit from off of the floor and hooked it up to its charging nook. Dez was quick to anger and ignoring him was the quickest way to make him angry. Anton was well aware of this and continued to ignore the skalos, who then let out a hiss and said, “You were gone for hours! And it’s not like you didn’t find anything either. I did what I could to repair the ship, but we’re still gonna need fuel. We’ll be LUCKY if we can even fly to the nearest station, not to mention the money we’ll need once we’re there.” Anton sat down at the tiny table in what passed for the Pchela’s kitchen, rubbing his temples. This day was already overwhelming enough. 

Dmitri jumped to his defense, “Listen Dez, I don’t care what any of you say. We’re not stealing from any of those poor robots.” A slight wave of anger accompanied the thought. 

Dez gritted his teeth before answering, “Fine. Do what you want. Everything’s fine. I seem to be the only one looking out for us.” 

Groaning as he walked to the kitchen and turned on the one burner, “Uh, Dez, what are you doing?” Dmitri asked. 

The towering skalos raised up his arms then sharply intoned, “What does it look like?” The silence hung heavy between them. “You’ve been out all day, I’m cooking us up something.” 

The crew sat eating at the table. Dmitri was on his usual place atop the table, relishing seeing everyone’s eye line, while Anton absentmindedly fiddled with his cutlery and had a far-off look on his face. Dez sat hunched over as he ate, dwarfing the table.

Dmitri said, “I just know there’s something more we can do for them. I mean, Dez is waaaay better at repairing things than Anton. Maybe you could come check it out tomorrow.” 

Dez chuckled, but Anton didn’t seem to notice. “Nice try, Dmitri. But the fact is, it’s pointless. They’re abandoned, they’ll just break down some other time.” 

Anton suddenly seemed to snap out of his haze and simply replied, “You didn’t see them, Dez.” 

Dez’s eyes narrowed. “So what?” 

Anton looked at him matter of factly, “They were working next to a pile of corpses.” 

“Robot corpses—does that even count?”

Anton’s fist clenched tight around his fork and with his other hand answered, “They count to me.” 

Dez pointed at him then said, “Okay, let’s hear it.” 

Dmitri started eagerly bouncing on the table, he loved Anton’s ideas. Anton’s lips pursed,

“Well, I suppose, for starters. We could, maybe, well…” His hands spun around hopelessly as he thought. “What if we could deprogram them to stop mining? Then the repairs wouldn’t be worthless.” Dez leaned back in his chair. It was theoretically possible, but they couldn’t stay here forever. Fuel cells as they were, they could maybe be here another week- assuming they didn’t fly the ship. 

Dez said, “Sure, we can do that. But it’s not realistic. And, need I remind you two, we wouldn’t be getting paid.” 

A coy look came over Anton. “Well, I wouldn’t say that. They have a large supply of rupoxite they’re not using.” 

Dmitri suddenly shot back, “Anton! You can’t possibly be thinking of taking it from them.” 

“Well, not like that. I mean, we just take what we need to repair the ship.” Dez rubbed his snout, “Well, Dmitri, he’s had worse ideas.” 

“I take offense to that. You know I have the best ideas.” 

Dez laughed, “Right… you don’t even know if we can reprogram them. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. This is an okay idea at best.” 

Dmitri’s frustration came over the skalos and human and he had a look of indignation about him that told them that this conversation wasn’t over, “Even if you all disagree, we should just help them because it’s the right thing to do.” 

Anton hesitantly signed, “I know… but it’s not like we’re asking for a lot here.” 

“It’s not even really theirs, right? They were mining it for a company, y’know,” Dez added. 

Dmitri gave him a vague impression of a dirty look then thought to them, “But the company didn’t mine a thing. They probably don’t even remember they’re here!” 

“Yes, you’re right. I agree with you, but what do you want me to do about it? We’re scavengers, it’s how we make a living,” Anton signed, not brave enough to look at his friend. 

“We can find a way to do both… I really think so.” Dmitri said, almost as a whisper. 

The morning came quickly and everybody set about their morning routines while the debate from last night lingered in the air. Anton shaved, (A rather pointless endeavor, considering he had yet to grow anything resembling facial hair.) while Dez cooked them breakfast, and Dmitri sat on the couch to watch the only video they had on the Pchela: A single episode of Anton’s favorite show: Power Princesses. Collectively they had watched countless hours of this single eleven minute tape, testing even Anton’s love for it. Not for the last time, Anton wished he had brought more from Earth. During breakfast, without saying a word, they all somehow came to an agreement with Dmitri. They’d help the robots without expecting anything in return. A pit of dread grew in Anton’s stomach at the thought of it, but he nonetheless went to suit up with Dez. On their way out, Dez made sure to point out the trail of dust from yesterday Anton had yet to clean. He pretended like he couldn’t hear him. 

Anton turned off his flashlight and waited in complete darkness. The mineshaft was devoid of any machines so Dmitri went ahead to scout. Unsure if there was danger or not, Anton and Dez hid behind a rocky outcropping in an uneasy silence. Anton wasn’t sure how long it was before the excited voice of Dmitri echoed throughout their thoughts, “Guys! Come here.” Judging by his tone, Anton felt it was safe to turn his light on. He gave Dez a shrug and walked ahead.

All the robots were sitting in a circle at the edge of the mine, as if meditating. Wire connected each and every one of them and all of their eyes were closed. They took no notice of the outsiders. 

“What the heck is going on?” Dez said with a scowl. 

“I’m not sure. But I think they’re still powered on.” Dmitri said. 

“Huh, think we should interrupt this?” Anton asked as he took a couple steps forward.

“No! No! Wait!” Dmitri’s voice raised, “I don’t wanna upset them.” 

Dez groaned, “Upset them? Come on, Dmitri, we don’t have all the time in the world here.” 

Anton signed, “Be easy on him, we can probably afford to wait a little bit.” The skalos gave a sigh. They’d wait. Anton sat down on the cave floor next to Dmitri and gestured for him to join them. 

It wasn’t long before the robots suddenly shot up and noticed the mismatched trio watching them. A clamor of digitized voices followed, every robot that still had functioning vocal processors was talking simultaneously. Anton only caught bits and pieces, they seemed to be surprised that he had returned. He hopelessly typed into his keyboard to try and quiet them. The noise was starting to become overwhelming. When everyone finally quieted down, he took a couple of deep breaths and began typing what he wanted to say, “We’re here to try and help you all. I don’t exactly know what that looks like, but we’re here.” He let his fingers rest as he looked up for a moment, he saw 87-A looking back at him and tugging at the wire on its head. Anton didn’t understand. 

A robot whose outer hull was split down the middle replied for 87-A, “We were discussing among ourselves. Some of us cannot speak or hear, among other difficulties, so we were connecting into our language processors. In other words, communicating directly.” 

“About what?” Anton typed out, curiosity getting the better. 

“We were discussing our previous encounter with you. We weren’t sure if you were going to come back, so we were discussing how we could put an end to our labors. Our creators have forgotten us and we destroy ourselves meaninglessly.” 

Anton walked forward as he typed, “Well, let’s figure this out then.” 

They discussed a plan while a majority of the robots had to get back to mining; Dez thought it would be best to take one of the inoperable robots apart and see what was compelling them to work, if they were lucky, it could be as simple as having to just reprogram a few things. Neither Dez nor Anton had worked with these types of machines before, but between the two of them he figured they’d be able to work something out. 87-A led the trio to one of the inoperable machines in a better condition. Clouds of dust made themselves known the moment they lifted the body, and for once Anton was grateful for his spacesuit. Dez threw the lifeless machine over his wide shoulders like a sack of potatoes, carrying it with an air of ease back to the ship. 

The machine was spread out on the kitchen table and they stood above it like surgeons preparing to operate. Every time Dez pulled out a part, Dmitri would inevitably ask what it was and what it did. After the fifth time, this was no longer fun to answer and Dez would just scowl and give a deflated grunt. Eventually Anton pulled out a part from the center of the robot and held it in his palm. It was thin as paper and smooth to the touch. It seemed to him to be shaped how a child might draw a house. A big grin came over Dez, “Hah! Exactly what we’re looking for.” He pumped up his scaly fist, “I’d bet you anything this is the main hub for commands. Let’s power it on and see what we’re dealing with.” 

The next few hours were spent going over the hub’s programming. Its strings of code appeared oblong and discolored on the damaged screen they had propped up on the kitchen table. Anton found himself wishing for a cup of black tea; Just another thing he couldn’t get on this side of the galaxy. The crew worked until suddenly the screen flickered and a long string of numbers appeared. They were unlike any code they had yet seen and Anton stared puzzling over it. A few minutes passed wordlessly until he got up, walked across the ship and turned on a screen labeled navigation. A pinpoint of light in the center of the screen expanded until a galactic map appeared. Rotating a dial, he entered the string of numbers in and the map began to zoom in. A tiny yellow dot appeared on the planet they were on. 

He beckoned Dez over, pointed at the screen then signed, “It’s not code, it’s coordinates. They’re receiving commands from something on this planet.” 

Anton was the first to crest over the ridge, standing shocked as he tried to process what he was looking at. Around a hill, the world was spinning. Every stone, every molecule of dirt, anything within its bounds spun in floating rings around the peak. Layered circular orbits that seemed to encase the area around it. His head jostled against the glass of his helmet, close enough to feel shock waves. The sound alone was more than he could bare and he wanted nothing more than to rip off his helmet and cover his ears. 

“So, what are we looking for?” Dez shouted over the cacophony, Dmitri perched on his shoulders. Anton, double checking the coordinates, wasn’t sure either. He stared ahead at the top of the hill. Everything was orbiting a crashed ship on the peak of it. It was small, metallic and shattered. He pointed, hoping either companion would better understand what was going on. 

Dez noticed, and hesitantly ventured, “A ship? I’ve never seen anything quite like this before. Something horribly wrong must’ve happened with the artificial gravity.” 

Dmitri asked, “If this is ‘causing the robots problems, maybe we can just wait until it runs out of power?” 

Dez started to talk, cut himself off and let a hard shake of his head suffice. “If it’s just running the artificial gravity and some commands to the machines, the fuel cells in it could probably last for years. We’re probably not gonna be able to wait out this one.” 

Like the sudden burst of a firecracker, Anton and Dez felt a well of excitement that wasn’t their own run through their heads as Dmitri’s body seem to rattle with anticipation, “FUEL CELLS! GUYS, FUEL CELLS!” He blurted out at them, “We can salvage the cells from that ship! That’s how we’ll leave here.” 

A sudden scowl came over Dez’s face and he sarcastically replied, “Oh, that’s simple. Let’s just pop on over there.” He picked up a pebble and threw it into the gravity well to illustrate his point. The stone was almost instantaneously swept up and joined rings of debris orbiting the crashed ship. Dez seemed content to leave it at that. A single look at Dmitri told him that his point didn’t get across. He groaned then said, “If we tried that, we’d be pulled into its gravity and torn apart by all the garbage orbiting it!” 

A thoughtful expression came over Dmitri as he genuinely seemed to mull over the implications, “Well, I didn’t say we had to do it like that.” 

For the next few hours, many ideas were discussed. Anton anxiously paced back and forth suggesting any half-baked idea that popped into his head, Dez sat with his back to a boulder aimlessly tossing a pebble up and down, occasionally muttering, while Dmitri seemed content to condense himself into a puddle and from time to time offer his insight. As time drew on, Anton grew more frustrated. He wanted to be out of this suit, away from all this noise, and ideally under the covers of his bed. He anxiously eyed the oxygen supply displayed in the corner of his helmet, dreadfully aware that they couldn’t sit out here forever. 

He sat down on a boulder, ready to admit defeat, “Let’s just go back to the Pchela. This isn’t working.” He typed, afraid to look at them. 

Dmitri suddenly jumped up and projected to them, “Wait a minute! I have an idea: Our ship! Its got its own artificial gravity!” He looked at both of them to make sure that they were following, “Couldn’t we use that pull all the stuff away? Then, ya know, turn it off?” 

Dez, fully ready to dismiss it five seconds earlier, suddenly found himself considering the idea, “I mean… maybe? Wait… Yes, we could. Hang on a second. YES!” Anton didn’t follow and looked at them both expectantly. Dez pointed at the gravity well then said, “We could alter our own artificial gravity to being on the outside of the ship and use it almost like a net to catch the high speed junk. There are plenty of gravity emitters, we could set some outside on the roof.” 

A look of unease came over Anton who then signed, “This is all going to take some delicate flying, we might completely destroy the Pchela.” 

“Fair point, not to mention how much fuel it’ll use,” Dez added. 

Dmitri quickly replied, “But if it works out, we’ll be able to salvage its fuel cells and have nothing to worry about.” 

Another queasy feeling came over Anton. This felt like gambling. He felt his teeth grind as he signed, “But what if it doesn’t?” 

The gentle hum of strings echoed throughout the ship. Dez was below in the engine room tinkering, his quiet muttering adding to the sounds of music. The light from his headlamp poked through slits on the floor, dimly illuminating the upper deck. Anton descended down the ladder cautiously, hands full with the wiring his co-pilot had asked for. Dez hardly noticed, completely engrossed with searching through his impeccably organized toolbox. “That you, An? I’m gonna need your hand here.” Dez said, not bothering to look up,“ We gotta lift this part here to let Dmitri through.” 

Anton suddenly noticed Dmitri next to Dez, the black color of his form completely camouflaging him in the darkness. 

“It’s behind about a million others, so I figure we’ll create a little crack for him to slide through.” Dez said, pointing at a mess of metal tubing Anton barely registered as a part. 

“Huh, that all we have to do?” Anton asked, expecting more. 

Dez replied with a hearty laugh. “No, my friend. Not at all. Modifying our artificial gravity is gonna take some work.” 

“How is it you know my ship better than me?” 

“One of the great mysteries of the universe.” Dez said with a confident grin. 

The night passed sleeplessly as the crew worked. Anton imagined that altering your gravity was as simple as changing the settings on a screen, but all this labor quickly killed that dream. Before today he had never once even thought of changing the ship’s gravity, after today, he’d never want to again. 

They wired parts of the ship to a portable console that Dez had repurposed. He labeled its many buttons with precise instructions on how each would affect their gravity field. Dmitri peered over the side of it and offered increasingly silly names to call “Dez’s invention”. The so called inventor snapped back that it didn’t need a name, it just needed to work. This, however, failed to deter Dmitri’s quest to find the perfect name. Smiling to himself, Anton suggested that they all go to sleep. He climbed back up the ladder and did not wait for any objections. 

After a brief stop to inform the robots of what they were about to attempt, they landed the Pchela within a stone’s throw of the hill. A wave of anxiety came over Anton and he felt himself, almost unwillingly, eyeing the fuel gauge in the center console. It flickered at an intimidating 2.6 percent – a stark green number in the middle of a dark screen. Breathing in slowly and intentionally, he tried his best to focus in. Piloting this was going to be delicate, he needed his wits about him. 

“Ready?” he gestured to the crew. Dez gave a nervous nod while Dmitri flashed his best attempt at a smile. “Okay then,” he signed, “We can do this.” 

Anton gently lifted the Pchela in the air, inching towards the gravity well. Debris zoomed past at rapid speeds just outside of the ship. He faced the ship in the direction of the flow and flying just outside the gravity well matched its speed. One wrong twitch and they’d quickly be pulverized into a thousand little bits. In the corner of his eye, he saw Dmitri leaning over the newly repurposed console, reorienting their gravity field and Dez, noticing this, frantically adjusted the ship to compensate for the shift in gravity. Anton moved the ship a little closer. The sound of the gravity well clawed at his thoughts, nearly drowning out every thing except for some primal need to get away. His hands tightened hard around on the controls as he fought back the desperate urge. 

The steady flow of debris did not seem to shift and Anton wondered for a brief moment if their idea was even working. Almost immediately after this thought, a stream of rocks, dust and shards broke through and began orbiting around them. Seizing this moment, the two pilots began to slow their speed. The atmospheric green outside was eclipsed by the darkness of the newly formed ring around them. Their heads turned in a synchronized shift towards the leftmost screen in the cockpit—suddenly forced to fly with only sensor readings. Once they had shifted the Pchela away, Anton rapidly signed for Dmitri to drop it. The dark colored blob shifted their gravitational sphere of influence back to the ship. Everything around them exploded outward in a disk of shrapnel pockmarking the hills nearby. The trio was once again bathed in the green light of the atmosphere. 

Anton turned the ship to face the loops of planetary shards, confident they had removed a sizable chunk, but disappointed to find they had hardly made a dent. Dez tapped with a single, long claw on the screen in the center console: 2.0% fuel remaining. “Okay, new plan.” Anton signed, mustering an air of confidence he did not believe. “We clearly don’t have enough fuel to remove all of it, but maybe we could remove enough from one ring to make a space big enough for us to speed through.” 

Dez sank low into his chair, stress sapping his ability to give any remark. An unsure smile drifted down the length of Dmitri’s fluid body. “Well, I’m not hearing any other ideas,” Anton gestured with a sigh. 

The second time wasn’t any easier. They brought the Pchela as close to the gravity well as they dared, every blink bringing imagined terrors of what might be. Dmitri shifted their gravity, their vision once again going dark. They drifted the ship away, shifting gravity as everything they had collected burst onto the hills. All eyes on the fuel gauge: 1.6%. 

Creating a space big enough for them took longer than expected. They tried to remove from one side of the ring as best they could, but the timing was difficult. They made a third trip to the gravity well, but it remained unbroken and indifferent to their efforts. 1.1% fuel remaining. Another try; A tiny hole began to form in the ring. The Pchela was a small ship, but it still wasn’t enough, they just needed a little more space: 0.6% fuel remaining. The crew looked at each other, understanding that this was likely their last attempt. 

After a long breath, they readied themselves. The flickering fuel gauge ticked like it was counting down and they faced the gravity well one more time. Trying to time its fast cycle, Anton brought the ship alongside the newly formed hole and signaled at Dmitri to shift their gravity. He watched in the corner of his eyes as their fuel percentage helplessly sank lower.

5… 4… The ship went dark as a new orbit started around them. 3… They turned the ship away 2… Then let off another payload. 

Anton’s breath grew shorter and shorter; the gap was big enough to fit them, but just barely. Dez readied the ship while Dmitri reoriented their gravity. Anton watched the space move, hoping for perfect timing. The Pchela launched like a flaming arrow. In less than a second they squeezed through the gap, a miracle of chance. Dez almost destroyed the brakes pulling them down with all his weight, stopping them in the tiny sweet spot between life and death. They landed the Pchela just as it ran out of power and shut off. 

It took a moment for the two pilots to gather themselves; Their eyes met slowly in disbelief. When there was absolutely no denying that they were still alive, they began a frenzied series of congratulations to each other. The tall skalos hugged his human friend and Anton, having never been hugged by him, went limp. Dmitri was the first one to break the silence, impatiently jumping from the console with a splash that reminded them there was still work to be done. They grabbed their gear and followed the slime through the bay doors. 

The crashed ship seemed remarkably recognizable for having fallen thousands of kilometers. Its hull hadn’t completely melted during the descent and there were still patches of intact metal clinging in bits to its frame. It was a blackened, crumpled hunk of metal, but Anton could still easily gleam what the ship must’ve looked like. On its side was the design of a faded orange crescent moon pieced with tiny pockmarks from whence no light came through. The ship wasn’t as tall as the Pchela, only being about a meter high, but it was just about as wide. Piece by piece, Dez began eagerly dismantling the outer parts of the ship; They really only needed the fuel cells, but they were scavengers first and foremost. They would sell every single part of this ship: It would mean food, repairs, and the chance to keep going. Anton and Dmitri cleared a way into the cramped ship, Anton hunched over as he walked. It was completely dark save for a dim cyan radiating from the back of the ship. “The fuel cells!” Dmitri exclaimed, almost sounding as if it was somebody’s birthday. They were encased in an alcove behind a metal panel that had completely caved in. Anton crouched next to it and with some effort pulled the panel completely off its hinges. His hands instinctively covered his eyes from the now bright light. Eight fuel cells in rows of four, like little glowing glass orbs. He reached towards the nearest one and cautiously pulled it out of its nook. He held his breath, expecting it to burn in his hands, but under his thick gloves he didn’t feel a thing. He let it fall to the bottom of his bag; A noticeable cyan shining through the canvas. 

Dmitri had an awe struck look about him that made his malleable face just a little wider. He couldn’t resist reaching out to pull out a second fuel cell. A primal wave of concern came over Anton as he tried to pull him back. Dmitri, noticing the sudden anxiety, turned back and gave his friend a dopey smile, “It’s okay, Anton! I don’t need a suit, remember?” 

He relaxed a little and let the blob continue. He pulled it out, not registering any pain, and joyfully added it to Anton’s bag. One by one they removed the rest, a bright pile forming on Anton’s side. Dmitri moved to pull out the last fuel cell when it suddenly occurred to Anton what was about to happen. He bolted to the makeshift entrance where Dez was salvaging and grabbed the outside of his suit, pulling the skalos into the ship as the gravity field shut off. It sounded like hail as the debris pelted the abandoned ships roof. Dez, lying prone, looked up at Anton with a look of absolute terror, “What were we thinking?!?” the nearly dead co-pilot screamed. He closed his eyes and let out a pitiful groan, “Oh no, The ship was outside… I just repaired it.”

In a minor miracle, the damage to the Pchela was largely superficial. The biggest loss was one of the solar panels on top being completely shattered. But it wasn’t anything that they couldn’t eventually repair. However, the dark green of the Pchela’s metal exterior would likely be marked with dents and scratches for a long time to come. 

After appraising the damages, the crew went to slot the cells into their battered ship. They had plenty of air in their suits, but until the life support systems on the Pchela came back online, neither Dez nor Anton would fully relax. Once Dez puzzled through converting the cells’ power source to the ship’s, it was an easy fix to replace their damaged cells. The skalos gingerly pressed the first cell into place. A breathless moment passed before they were met with the comforting sound of air being cycled throughout the ship. Anton lowered his shoulders, he’d be keeping a close eye on the air for hours to come. Ideally, he’d never have to wear his dreaded space suit again. 

Once all eight fuel cells were converted and hooked up to the ship, the trio collapsed onto the only couch on the ship. They fell into an exhausted silence. It was as if they could finally see the whole picture of their stresses. Dmitri looked up at the other two and started uncontrollably giggling. A look of disbelief came over Anton as Dez started laughing too. He gave in and soon became a mess of giggles with them. They sat laughing on that couch until they could not laugh anymore.

After reaching and feeling the ground with his foot, Anton let himself fall onto the canyon floor. Dust winds blew all around him as he got his bearings. He walked along the canyon floor until he approached the hole in the cliff. It was dark and crept deep into the planet. Fully intending to descend, Anton was surprised to see pale yellow lights looking at him from below. One after another each robot crossed the rocky threshold and gathered on the dusty ground. Those who couldn’t walk were carried by those who could. Leading them was 87-A, who greeted Anton with a light touch on the glass of his helmet. Anton reached out and touched its arm. For a moment, letting his hand linger.

87-A put its hand down and passed in front of the group. It gestured for them to follow. One by one, they walked ahead through places they had only ever worked. They marched past the edge of the canyon, where its high cliffs receded into the landscape and continued onto the endless cosmic plains, leaving nothing but the system’s star shining directly ahead. 

  He heard a familiar mechanical purr and he turned to watch the Pchela in the air- its lights shining pale through the clouds. The ship landed and the bay doors opened to Dmitri and Dez waiting. He smiled and joined his friends.

It occurred to Anton that some unintended primal need had slipped through their programming. The need for agency in one’s existence. Perhaps that was something universal to all beings, organic or otherwise. The machines continued their trek, but Anton did not follow. He watched as the line of machines receded into the haze of dust and gas. He didn’t need to ask, but he somehow felt that everything was going to work out. Maybe there were others like them, maybe they’d find a new home. It didn’t matter- it was their choice.