The Rust-Town Waystation

On the morning of the fourth day, the silhouette of a massive, downed dreadnought appeared on the horizon. It was a colossal warship from a forgotten era, its rusted hull half-buried in the dunes.

"Rust-Town," Silas said, his voice dry and exhausted. He set Valen down on a piece of debris, taking a moment to catch his breath. "It's a waystation. Scavenger territory. We need to buy passage on a crawler to make it the rest of the way to the Obsidian Bunker. My legs won't make it another fifty miles."

Valen looked at the dreadnought. The air around it smelled of sulfur, burning oil, and desperation. He felt a deep, instinctive knot of dread form in his stomach.

"Is it safe?" Valen asked, his hand gripping the edge of Silas’s jacket.

"It's controlled by my old crew," Silas said, his expression hardening slightly. "A man named Kaelen runs the docks. We didn't part on the best of terms, but my credits are still good. Keep your hood up. Don't speak. If they realize you're Ascendancy royalty, they'll tear you apart to sell your tech."

Silas hoisted Valen onto his back, securing him with a makeshift harness, and began the descent into the rusted belly of the beast.

Rust-Town was a claustrophobic nightmare. A labyrinth of corrugated steel, flickering neon lights, and the overwhelming press of desperate humanity. Scavengers, mutants, and traders eyed them like wolves as Silas navigated the narrow, sewage-slicked corridors. Valen kept his face buried in the crook of Silas’s neck, terrified of the hungry stares.

They reached the lower hangar bay, where massive, armored sand-crawlers were parked.

A group of heavily armed men stood around a burning barrel of chemical waste. The leader, a man with a cybernetic eye and a face scarred by radiation, stepped forward.

"Well, well. If it isn't the lone wolf," Kaelen sneered, resting his hand on the hilt of a rusted vibro-blade. "Thought you'd frozen to death in the Craters, Silas."

"Not yet, Kaelen," Silas said, his voice flat, devoid of the warmth he reserved solely for Valen. "I need passage on the next crawler to the Obsidian sector. Two seats."

Kaelen’s cybernetic eye whirred, focusing on the bundle clinging to Silas’s back. "Who's the baggage?"

"None of your business. I have the credits," Silas said, reaching for his pouch.

"Credits are cheap these days," Kaelen said, stepping closer. He sniffed the air. "Smells like... clean air. Smells like expensive scrubbers." Before Silas could react, Kaelen reached out and yanked the heavy hood back from Valen’s face.

Valen gasped, shrinking back. His pale, flawless skin and the high-tech breather-mask were a glaring beacon of wealth and purity in the filth of Rust-Town.

Kaelen’s organic eye widened. A slow, predatory smile spread across his scarred face. "Well, I'll be damned. The sky fell, and a prince dropped right into my lap."

"Back off," Silas snarled, dropping his hand to his sidearm.

"You don't know, do you, Silas?" Kaelen laughed, a harsh, grating sound. He drew his vibro-blade. The men around the barrel raised their rifles, leveling them at Silas. "The rebels at the Obsidian Bunker put out a bounty. A massive one. They aren't running a sanctuary down there. They're dying of radiation sickness. They discovered that the royal nanites in Ascendancy blood can cure the rot. They've been hunting for survivors from the crash."

Valen’s heart plummeted. The sanctuary was a lie. It was a slaughterhouse.

"They want to harvest him," Kaelen smiled. "Drain him dry to save themselves. And they're paying a fortune for a live royal."

"You're not taking him," Silas said, his voice a low, lethal promise.

"I have ten men pointing guns at you, Silas," Kaelen mocked. "You're tough, but you can't dodge lead while carrying a cripple. Hand him over, and I'll let you walk back into the ash."

Valen tightened his grip on Silas’s neck. "Silas," he whispered, a tear slipping down his cheek. "Let me go. They will kill you." He meant it. He loved Silas too much to watch him die for a broken prince.

Silas didn't even look back at him. He reached up, his hand briefly covering Valen’s where it rested on his collarbone.

"I told you," Silas said, his amber eyes burning with terrifying violence as he stared down Kaelen. "We survive together, or not at all."

Silas moved faster than Valen’s eyes could track. He drew his heavy magnum and fired in a single, fluid motion, putting a bullet perfectly between the eyes of the man holding the closest rifle.

Chaos erupted in Rust-Town.