The sandcrawler was solidly built. Built to last, one might say. Harper found the terminal, her head just bounced off, especially built to last. Everything went black for a moment. The pain shot through her skull, and it took her another moment to get her bearings. She lay on her back, mouth wide open as the pain seemed to take root and spread. Tears sprang from her eyes.
The sandcrawler had, moments before, spun about sharply; unexpectedly.
The massive vehicle was currently doing ‘doughnuts’ through the sandy wastes.
Harper managed to sit up as the vehicle steadily turned round and round in a tight circle. She winced as her hand probed the sore spot on the back of her head. It stung.
The small fiery bot was at her side. Its hand gripped her arm, it was solid too, much more solid than it looked. The strange cartoon-like face expressed concern. She could see the massive orb of the ancient ark-tech floating above them, and the almost completely unfazed holographic copy of Ratchet peering over the bot’s shoulder.
Harper could make out the others in the room, too, as they braced themselves under the battle drone that took up so much space in the crowded room.
The old woman, Mrs. Lauren, was caught by her husband, who managed to keep them both from toppling over. Ratchet appeared from the ground as he pulled himself up, steadying himself against the drone itself, as the vehicle continued to spin round and round. Ratchet immediately helped Mrs. Lauren into one of the chairs that was stationed about the bridge. He seemed to argue a bit with Mr. Lauren as to who should take the next seat.
Ratchet looked in Harper’s direction, immediately abandoned the argument as he made his way to her.
The fiery bot was talking to her, but she was still in a daze. Harper thought he was asking if she was okay. She pulled her hand from the sore spot behind her head, found red liquid on her hand. This confused her. She could see it, but couldn’t really feel it. It thinned out over her fingers and started to cool, she realized it was blood. She looked up at the bot, mouth agape.
The bot spotted the blood as well, and suddenly turned to talk to the others.
The room was spinning, and the small fiery bot helped her lay back down, as Mr. Lions appeared next to him; they both appeared worried.
Suddenly the vehicle shifted again, sharply in the opposite direction.
Hugo was thrown back, completely off his feet, to land hard against the floor with a rather impressive thud. The agile little bot steadied himself easily enough, though the floating orb suddenly bashed into him from behind, it flung the bot on top her. He was heavier than he looked.
They were in a heap, but Harper could do little to help the little guy off her. The fire atop his head was strangely cool as it licked about her cheeks. The flame held no heat, it was just a holographic representation, yet she had a hard time seeing as the flames wavered before her eyes.
The bot, unharmed, untangled himself from her apologetically. The holographic Ratchet suddenly vanished, before the floating orb positioned itself away from the others. The pain was still shooting through her skull, she remained laying flat on her back. Hugo reappeared above her as he regained his footing.
Harper could see Hugo had himself braced pretty good, between one hand on the especially solid terminal that she was oh-so familiar with, and his cane braced against the floor- he held himself tight as the vehicle continued to repeatedly make a figure eight. She could see the pain cross his face every time the vehicle turned, and his legs clenched to hold himself upright. Harper knew what that was doing to the old Jinn’s knees. Hugo was standing, though could do very little more.
Finally the sandcrawler straightened out again, and seemed to end its erratic behavior.
Ratchet appeared, the real Ratchet, he was able to pull her to her feet. He quickly helped her into an open chair. Neither of the First Wave youths were sure what was going to come next, or how much time they had until the erratic behavior may return. Harper let Ratchet strap her in, then inspect where she struck herself. He pulled his hoody off over his head, bunched it up, and held it to the back of her head.
Harper took over from there, held the wadded up cloth tightly in place. She watched as Ratchet helped the Old Jinn collapse into a chair, before he strapped Hugo in as well.
Suddenly, the vehicle lurched again as it spun about in a u-turn. It was Ratchet’s turn to witness the solidness of the vehicle as he was thrown forward, his arms caught him before his head could strike the floor, but he suddenly slid forward and crashed into one of the drone legs that still sprawled about the room.
The pain in her head was throbbing, Harper tried not to cry out, though the tears streamed freely from her eyes.
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