Twenty Three

“She and I grew up together,” Teeroy said, as they were starting to lose light for the day. The pod fire had been reduced to things designed to survive orbital reentry, namely some very tough rare earths and some ceramic composites. Teeroy sat by Bird’s sick bed fussing over her by using a wet cloth to mop her brow when he felt it was necessary.
“When we were kids we played like we were brother and sister,” Teeroy began, “ she left me for a long time. I finally thought that I had her back,” he moved on to washing her hands, hoping that his ministrations would have some effect on the fever that was burning through her.
“I mean, she was never mine. Not like that,” he continued wistfully, “her parents were taken by the Wendigo, we think,” he spoke in hushed tones when mentioning them, “they went up into the Waste one day,” he held her in his gaze, thinking that an act of devotion might have some effect on her health, “and never came back. They never seemed to have the right kind of fear of the Waste that we all do, and I think Bird has a bit of that recklessness in her blood. They were always bringing back useful things like glass bottles and books. They never told anyone where any of the stuff was from, but it was dangerous work,” he went back to fussing about her forehead and hair.
“They named her Liberty after a shiny piece of metal that they found. They told me it meant free, like a bird is, not like love is. So I always called her Bird, and it stuck,” Teeroy was tearing up a little bit.
He didn’t seem ashamed of this display of emotion, but he also didn’t let it overwhelm him. He had said his piece and wanted to leave it at that.
The ancient space medicine seemed to be doing something because Bird wasn’t getting any worse. The treatment seemed to have caught her just in time. Fyndraxis suspected that the drink that she had downed was some sort of anti-vomiting cocktail that would enable the pills to work whatever magic they were designed for.
A couple of times throughout the night she was conscious enough to drink some water and mumble some half remembered dreams. As they ventured into the small hours of the night her fever began to break and she fell into something that was more akin to sleep rather than unconsciousness.
With things calming down inside the cabin, Fyndraxis was able to give a bit more attention to his radio. What he desperately wanted to hear was the quiet hiss of a content and benevolent universe. What he heard instead was stark proof that the universe didn’t give a single shit about them. In fact, perhaps it was holding a bit of a grudge.