Atlas Abandoned

PJ (6 months since the crash)

Atlas wasn't able to get back to sleep after his dream, so he eventually got up and told AGS-9 that he wanted to keep moving.

"Maybe you're still not elevating your head high enough. You have trouble sleeping when you take in too much butane gas, Atlas," AGS-9 observed as he put out the fire with his foot, the metal exposed and covered in soot from having put out dozens of fires in the same way.

"I think it makes me have flashbacks too..." Atlas was rubbing his neck while he stretched from the uncomfortable sleep.

"The crash again?" asked AGS-9. Atlas nodded.

"The day we left, too." Atlas stumbled. He must have stood up to fast. The blood rushed to his head and he fell to his knees, dizzy.

"You haven't been eating enough. You're getting weaker," said the android.

"I'm fine!" yelled Atlas, breathing deeply and getting back up. He dusted himself off, which was pointless. His body was covered in a layer of dried sweat and sand that didn't seem to be going anywhere. He didn't smell very good, but the sand both covered the numerous blisters he'd collected from exposure to the acid rain over the months and protected him from more of it. Atlas had come to call it Life Sand. "Let's go!"

They moved a lot more quietly these days than they did during the first few months. There was nothing left to make small talk about, even between a boy and a robot. Any talking they did do seemed to be brief, blunt, and short-lived. The sand they'd kick up when running through the trees provided a monotonous soundtrack. Every once in a while they'd travel through a clearing with no sand and a floor of metal and rock. AGS-9's feet would clang against that, but their voices were nowhere to be found.

It had been a long 6 months out in the alien wilderness and Atlas still wasn't sure if it was more luck or skill that had kept him alive this long. He figured it was skill, but AGS-9's programmed skill and not Atlas' own. He owed the android for safety, food, water, and shelter. There weren't very many structures like the big hollow stump they had fought the first rats in, so most of the time they stopped to rest it would be in a small, vulnerable, and make-shift campsite in the middle this strange, metallic forest. It didn't make for a very comfortable rest when Atlas never felt safe.

"Aegeus! My legs hurt again today. I have to walk. I'm sorry," Atlas called out as he slowed to a walk, rubbing his hamstrings.

"There's no need to apologize, Atlas. You're doing remarkably well. I'm proud of you!" cheered AGS-9 over its shoulder. It slowed to a walk as well, but didn't look back. Atlas smiled. He knew the android was just programmed to be optimistic and try to boost his confidence, but he had given up on disliking the robot. Out here AGS-9 was his big brother. Atlas loved him.

They walked, they jogged, they walked some more. Atlas had heard about what Earth was like for humans with nighttime and daytime, but on the space station they only had to deal with manmade lighting that they could control. The sun never set on this world either. There was no pitch black night time, just brighter and dimmer forms of the same everlasting dusk. The omnipresent cloud cover dispersed the local star's light from one horizon to the other, no matter where it was actually coming from. It meant that Atlas and AGS-9 would travel and rest as much as they wanted, whenever they could and their internal clocks (Atlas' being biological and AGS-9's being programmed) didn't really get in the way. Still, searching for signs of the wrecked ship for so long with no trace was starting to wear on Atlas' spirit.

After another long, painful time spent traveling it was time to rest.

"Are you sure we're still going the right way?" asked Atlas.

"I am as sure as I can be, Atlas. Besides, there are mountains in the distance and I plan to utilize the vantage point to see if we can't spot the crash site from there. We're probably only a few more hikes away," AGS-9 was already gathering rocks and scraps of fallen metallic wood for the fire. Atlas, satisfied with the android's answer, bunched up a pile of sand and laid back on it. He was out like a light, and quickly breathing in noxious butane gas again.