Sae went up deck, the early morning sky thickened with a carpet of shapely clouds moving fast. The waters had calmed enough that being rocked about was not a problem. At the helm one of the hakas steered the barge, and close to the floater, a shirtless Becker massaged his muscles while taking in the cool air. As if tensing himself like a highly pressured spring, he stretched himself about the waist, puffing forward his chest and raising his arms, and as he did, his old lesions moved across his muscles as if critters crawling over his body.

  Becker: Good morning to you as well.

  He continued with his exercise while facing the ocean with his eyes closed.

  Sae: Ah! G...Good morning!

  Becker: Not enough sleep?

  Sae: Well, between the rocking and the...noises...I suppose...

  Becker brought one arm to his chest and pressed it upon himself with the other arm, his fingers and palm snapping as he did.

  Becker: A bit too much, you suppose?

  Sae: *Humph* At least they weren't tears.

  She said with some indifferent resignation.

  Finishing off with the other arm, Becker stood still breathing in the air. When Sae approached him from behind, she stretched her hand and lightly touched one of his abrasions, feeling the coarse, prickly skin on her hands.

  Sae: Do these hurt?!

  He did not answer for a while.

  When he opened his eyes, he blew a hard breath of air and turned around to answer her.

  Becker: Not anymore.

  He grabbed his freshly cleaned shirt and slid into it.

  Becker: Listen, I can't promise that I may be able to find the tossers that had you indentured, but it's possible they will be in the wrong end of my barrel regardless.

  She gave him a wicked smile.

  Sae: I would like to see that. A shame I cannot repay you, but...

  Becker: No thanks.

  Sae: Not even a dance? I promise it is something your eyes will indulge...

  He raised his hand and shook his head.

  Becker: I can't...I got to get the warrior ready, anyway.

  Sae crossed her arms with a pouty expression.

  Sae: Is it something from your world, or am I not of your fancy?

  Becker's face immediately contorted as he tried to think hard for an answer, his eyes looking up to the right. At st, he answered as if the question was a complex conundrum.

  Becker: I can't say.

  A range of emotions went through Sae at the answer. Though the response was enough cause to feel offense, she continued to think about it until it slowly rolled into ughter, finally coming out in a loud burst.

  Sae: *Hahaha* You really are a sele'kwai!

  He gave her a wry smile, while patting her on the shoulder. Leaving Sae overboard, he headed downward to wake up the young man rescued a day and a half ago.

  Sae: [A shame we did not worked together a long time ago]

  The sky brightened more by the time barge reached a horizon of yellow vegetation, with leafless trees spread across pools of dirt water and sharp peaks further ahead.

  The junkyard-quality haka and the Keeper found the closest thing to a seawall to bring the barge close enough - a section of the coast where rge boulders went down straight. A contrast to the mud mounds along the coast. Iku and Becker helped Sor-Harach onto the back of the floater, all the while Iku struggled with teary eyes and hard yawning.

  When the barge slowed, the rge haka extended the draw bridge as long as it could, using its arms to hold on it.

  They all said their good-byes, however brief they got to know each other the day before.

  Becker: I don't thing I told you this, but thanks for the floater.

  Iku: May it *yawn* serve you well.

  Becker: And send my regards to the misses.

  Keeper: Yeah, after she beats me to death for worrying her.

  Sor-Harach shyly said farewell to the other two girls, dressed in long tunics and partially wild hair.

  With a mischievous boldness, Sae approached Sor-Harach and kissed him on the cheek.

  Sae: Do your best to survive, brave one~

  Sor-Harach: Thi...Thank you!

  He did his best to keep himself composed.

  With that, the floater raised, and with the help of the jumbled haka, it got on top of th ptform and over the other side. Becker continued to push the floater on past the seawall, past the soggy, rolling fields, and dodging the water wherever possible.

  At st, approaching a section of ftnd, Becker slowed down and stopped. He turned around and saw the barge continue on its trajectory towards the southeast, slowly disappearing on the horizon.

  Taking out a notebook from his pocket, Becker made rough calcutions on a clean page. He then took out a device that resembled a beeper, and pressing a button, he moved the dial until it reached his desired number - 121.5. Pressing another button, the screen on the device lit red before fading out.

  Becker: Now, you say that your kind and mine were to hold on to the north as long you could?

  Sor-Harach rubbed the back of his neck.

  Sor-Harach: Yes, we went over this...

  Becker: Because if that's the case, we have a slim chance to find him before the worst happens.

  Sor-Harach: Him?

  Becker: Worry not. You're not suppose to know who it is I'm speaking of. He's suppose to know about YOU, if anything.

  Sor-Harach: So you really think there's more going on around here?

  Becker: I'm still certain - the lot of you could have let the Wailing Husks torch and then move in for the kill. Let us hope we are not too te.

  Heading towards the northwest, Becker and Sor-Harach went through the sparse forest and on to the foggy mountains. As they headed further in, the birds' songs faded. There were no more slight movements from critters. When they snaked through the tight paths and rising terrain, the silence bnketed the scenery.

  Making camp atop of a high hill, the pair could see the nearby peaks stabbing up into the clouds. The shine of the moon barely made a dent through the carpet of clouds, making the small fire the only source of light.

  Sor-Harach huddled tightly on his cover, while Becker took in the cool air, albeit moderately by having the top button of his coat open. They ate lightly while they spoke.

  Sor-Harach: ...I wouldn't know if I'm from the Mainnd or not. I never met my parents.

  Becker: It could just be the one parent, actually. If you tip your head slightly, you can see something of a hue, but I suppose it could be nothing.

  Sor-Harach: I never did ask Grandfather. Can't ask him now.

  He looked into the flickering tongues on the pit in front of him.

  Sor-Harach: I don't care what the others say - he's still Grandfather to me!

  Becker: I'm sure he would be proud to hear that.

  Sor-Harach: Becker...Could you teach me your ways? Teach me to fight like your kind?

  Becker: It's not that simple...

  Sor-Harach: I...I've seen your kind's ways. I promise I can...*cough*

  Pouring some tea into a cup, Becker handed it over to his companion, whom took a few sips, savoring the acrid taste on his lips.

  Becker: First - I'm not in active charge over my firm. I'm sure Wilrd and the rest will have something bitter over why I left, much less over my return. Now even if we can arrange something, I am estranged with whatever arrangements they have over with your lordship. I'm sure part of the deal involves treatment of the injured, but recruitment of locals? Can't say.

  He took a rge gulp of his tea, catching a glimpse of the youth's eyes flickering with the fme's light.

  Becker: However - We'll link up with them first, get an understanding of what is happening, perhaps your runaway prince may make an exception...but ONLY when you receive proper treatment.

  The eyes of the young warrior jumped back to life.

  Sor-Harach: You would do that?

  Becker: But not tonight. We've gone beyond the time to sleep.

  Finishing up, the pair cleaned their teeth and went to bed, Sor-Harach still getting used to the toothbrush and paste.

  Just before they closed their eyes, they observed a rge flock of birds flying high making a hard dive between the hill and the mountains, their cries guiding their feathered companions through the dark and the clouds.

  Early in the morning, the pair at st reached their destination. From high on the cliffs, the pungent taint in the air did not dissipate no matter how much the wind blew. Plumes of smoke rose across the horizon, bringing with it a peculiar rancid whiff of flesh and filth.

  When the two reached close enough to the edge, they observed down bellow hollowed shells of buildings, clusters of ragged encampments colonizing what space they could in the ruins, and a few thick structures smudged and gutted from entropy.

  From his binocurs, Becker observed the packs of lethargic inhabitants wasting away in their intoxication, in their self-consuming disdain. Looking down at exposed lower leves and opened streets, shadows danced from lit fires in dances of violence with wicked intent towards unfortunate prey suffering exactly what was implied, and others, what one hoped was not happening, for it would mean they were still alive.

  And over this vista, a brown hue hung over in the air, with low, droning wails and groans heard every now and then.

  Such is across the horizon on the Wailing Husks.

  Becker: [Just like home...but greatly improved! Perhaps a bad day in a degenerate corner of the world embracing the Apocalypse but...]

  He gave the binocurs over to Sor-Harach, whom not being prepared for what he saw down below, struggled from keeping his belly from exploding out of his mouth.

  Becker: This is where the refuse of the isnd end up, or those attempting to escape bondage end up being lured to.

  He spoke to him very matter-of-fact, like a tour guide going over a horrific exhibition at a museum.

  Becker: Generations before have lived off the scraps that remained in the city. The scraps are all gone. Those with sharper mind can barely organize a block, let alone a neighborhood. More come by or are captured in turn, and if they are lucky, they indulge on jenkem. In the end, even the petty rulers of the piles of rubble are consumed by the ruins, their bones ending on the necks of their killers or carved to sharpened points.

  Sor-Harach: And you say this is what we were fighting for?

  Turning on his beeper-looking device, the light on the dispy turned solid green to 121.5.

  Becker: No. You were fighting for...

  Looking over, he spotted a thick clump of greenery behind, close to a few boulders. Removing some of the branches, he noticed a particurly small floater hidden underneath, resembling a slick, rusted motorcycle made up of piping and junk metal in a conglomeration better suited as an artistic piece sold at a flea market.

  In one of the canvas bags fastened to the side, he found a simir device inside fshing to the same rythm as Becker's.

  Becker: ...stranger purposes. At least my friend is not slipping up much.

  Searching again inside the bag, Becker found a note, and opening it, he encountered Japanese script.

  Becker: Never mind.

  It was purposefully poorly written Japanese, if one intended to read it as intended. In fact, it was English substituting the Phonetic alphabet for Hiragana and Kanji characters. It took a few minutes for Becker to decipher the meaning.

  (Head over to the house of archives past. The structure still stands proud. In its bowels there lies a sphere of olden times of bright blue stone. Retrieve it at all cost; bury it if impossible!)

  Taking the binocurs from Sor-Harach, he inspected the city carefully from end to end.

  Becker: One...three...four...

  The young man was confused with Becker's counting.

  Sor-Harach: What is it?

  Becker: There aren't many buildings that might constitute a "house of archives," so we know where my friend might not be. Five...

  Sor-Harach: Should we not wait for him? We can avoid needless risk.

  Becker: Seven...That will be your job. Eight...

  Sor-Harach: You saw for yourself what's down there.

  Removing the binocurs out of his eyes, he took a moment to let his eyes refresh.

  Becker: If I can be of assistance to him I will. He may not be aware of this pce's current predicament.

  Looking back into the city, Becker closely inspected the eight edifices he singled out, now paying attention to the finer details in their architecture or general yout.

  There was one fnked with chipped out minarets with peaks fading off into smooth stone. Another had the skeleton of the front facade exposed, and behind it, a newer annex of a poor attempt at scaffold apartments questionably standing and occupied.

  There was an L-shaped six story building with its short side colpse down halfway, no windows, and a rge tube heading down from the third floor down onto a small wastend of pulverized concrete and trash.

  Somewhere close to the middle, off to the east, was one particurly rge square building with a rge dome on top and smaller ones on the corners. The middle of the construct was gashed down the middle all the way deep into the ground, with a few exposed levels lit with fires.

  Off to the side, in a crude adjunction, was a closed off quarters with buildings resembling adobe, run-down motels. One of the buildings had a chute linking it towards the main building.

  Of all this, there was one thing peculiar that drew Becker's attention to this as the prime candidate to search for his friend - on the sheet metal that walled off the annex, Becker could almost make out a small mark on a section split open. Even when he zoomed in close, it was impossible to make out what it was, but he had a suspicion of what it was.

  From his position, it was also the closest building to explore. Heading down from the other side of the hill from where they were, he would have to make is way through a seemingly empty neighborhood sprawling down onto a dry riverbed and move up one block before reaching empty building shells adjacent to his target.

  Giving the binocurs to Sor-Harach, he pointed to him the building he was scouting.

  Becker: In four hours I will be back. If I don't return by then head off without me.

  Sor-Harach: That's rather extreme of you .

  Becker: Warn the Colonel and tell him to bring a fireteam. Tell them to pay attention to their radios - just like that.

  Giving him a spare chronometer, he sets it for four hours, instructing him to wait until it starts ringing in order to leave. Before he left, he gave his companion a very short crash course on riding the floater.

  Becker: Will you manage?

  Sor-Harach: Doesn't seem like you're giving me much of a choice. Wait - what if something major happens in the city?

  Gathering extra ammunition and grenades from one of his bags, he readied himself to head into the city.

  Becker: Keep yourself hidden, but it's unlikely they would be interested in you all the way here.