The last orange streaks vanished below the wasteland as Keroro and Dororo descended the final hill, leaving the stone forest behind. Flat terrain came as a relief to both, their legs worn from uphill travel and escape.
Keroro stumbled closer to Dororo and tugged the back of the carrying cloth. "Can we stop now? It's gettin' dark, and my feet are dead."
Dororo kept walking, and Keroro's arm fell loosely away. "There's no cover ahead. It's still light enough for the flea to..."
He stopped and peered at something in the middle distance. Keroro stepped up beside him, and followed Dororo's gaze to a bent metal beam jutting out of the ground at an angle.
Keroro squinted. "Whaddya suppose that is?"
"A remnant. Once part of a great city, perhaps." Dororo started walking again. "We can take a short break there."
Keroro kept his eyes on the exposed beam as they approached. He imagined it straight, sturdy, and free of rust. Hid it in solid walls, a foundation, and a roof. Fuyuki read Paranormal Monthly in the living room, while Natsumi played the latest game console.
"Commander?"
Keroro blinked. The rusted beam loomed before him, and Dororo had taken out the emergency blanket. Keroro took the half offered to him, helping to expand it before they tossed it over the beam.
Keroro plopped down under the makeshift tent with a sigh, and rubbed his feet. "Are we gettin' close to 'em yet?"
"Yes. We should reach them by tonight." Dororo set the carrying cloth in front of him and untied it. He took out the heating element and the partly empty canteen first.
Keroro grabbed the canteen in both hands, fingers ready on the cap. Then he noticed the second, unused canteen, resting next to their dwindling food pile.
He pointed at it. "Aren't you gonna have some too?"
Dororo reached for a dried rodent. "That one's for Kururu and Tamama."
"You mean we're sharing this one?" Keroro shook the first canteen.
Dororo slid the rodent onto the heating unit. "No. That's yours."
The canteen met the ground with a gritty thud. "Lance Corporal Dororo, are you trying to kill yourself?!"
Dororo looked up. "Don't worry. I can last a while longer on my energy reserves without water."
"Y'mean the reserves you're using up with—" Keroro's train of thought jumped the tracks. "That other one's for Giroro too, right?"
Dororo fixed his gaze on the heating unit. He didn't make any move to start it.
"We'll have enough food for him too, right?" Keroro scooched closer to Dororo on his knees.
Dororo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "It would be impractical to spread our rations any thinner."
Keroro slapped the dirt. "You're abandoning him? Is that what you're saying?" He grabbed Dororo's shoulders, leaning over the heating unit. "You just don't know where he is. That doesn't hafta mean he's dead!"
"I am trying," Dororo said, shoulders stiff, "not to lose anyone else!"
Keroro slipped away from Dororo as the ground shook. Dororo stuck his head out of the tent, and Keroro followed suit in time to see the space flea rocketing out of the ground a hundred feet away. It soared over a wide depression with a flea-sized hole in the middle.
Dororo took the dried meat off the heating unit, and tied everything back into the carrying cloth with blurry movements. "Run for the basin!"
"Towards that?!" Keroro quit yanking at the stubborn emergency blanket to point at the descending flea.
Dororo touched the blanket to shrink it back to a tiny square, and stowed it behind his sword. "We'll escape underground. Tamama and Kururu are somewhere in that hole."
He shouldered the carrying cloth and took off; Keroro raced after him. The hole came into clearer view as they neared the basin.
The flea landed on the edge of the depression less than ten feet away, briefly forcing both Keronians into the air. Keroro shrieked and latched onto the carrying cloth behind Dororo. The flea stabbed its mouthparts toward them, and Dororo whipped an arm forward to deflect it with his sword. Chitin met blade, and struck the weapon out of his hand.
Keroro's breath shuddered to a stop as he watched those piercing tubes slide through Dororo's neck.
Then the flea lifted its head, and Keroro felt air under his feet. His torso was pincered between the flea's mouthparts. As he rose, he saw one of them was stuck through the carrying cloth just above Dororo's shoulder, leaving his friend untouched.
Dororo planted his feet and wrenched back against the flea, while Keroro grasped the cloth in both fists. The cloth slipped off Dororo's head, and he barely managed to catch hold of it in time.
"Dororo!" Keroro's tears spotted the fabric as he hung upside-down, arms stretched taut. "Help me!"
Dororo's left arm trembled as he strained the other one upward. Keroro reached for him, and the cloth ripped in two.
The flea bowled over backwards, flinging Keroro and the supplies into a high arc. One of the flea's long hind legs caught Dororo in the stomach as it fell, and sent him flying over the basin.
Dororo bounced and rolled along the cracked ground until the momentum left him on his back. Keroro's fading screams rang in his ears as the force of his landing vibrated through his skeleton.
He sat up at a low rumble, and felt more than saw the flea thrashing to right itself. His left arm ached down to the fingertips. The ripped ends of the carrying cloth were twisted around his hand, binding him to the heating unit.
Starlight glinted off Dororo's blade, stuck at the edge of the hole; he'd landed just short of it. He shook off the tingling in the back of his head, untangled the cloth and heating unit from his arm, and retrieved his sword. Then he secured the heating unit to his back with the cloth's remains.
He dropped partway into the hole, gripping the edge and peering over it. The flea was on its feet at the edge of the basin—watching, but going no further. Dororo had a perfect view of the thin soil from inside the hole. No wonder the flea wouldn't pursue him.
Two life signals pulsed below. He released the edge and vanished into the abyss.
There was a room with food and water on the bottom floor of the chasm, according to the layout. No ladders led down there, to Kururu's secret relief, but neither did any elevators.
A teleporter two rooms ahead did, however, and Kururu had the long-unused equipment primed in minutes. He input a time delay before stepping onto a square mat next to Tamama, and the lining around the edges glittered to life. Countless tiny lights stretched up and overtook their vision, then returned to darkness.
Detecting visitors, a row of orbs placed midway up the wall in front of them lit one by one. They revealed clear cylinders lining two walls, some containing weird pink objects.
A mummified cat-alien slumped over an open one straight ahead, toothless mouth wide open, making eyesocket-to-eye contact with Tamama. He squealed and dropped the water bottle to cover his eyes.
"Looks like we found the unlucky bastard who got to die last," Kururu said.
Tamama forced his trembling hands lower, and looked off to the side to avoid even a corner-glimpse. Kururu took unsteady steps off the telepad toward a corpse-free container, Tamama following close behind.
"W-we can't still use this stuff, can we?" Tamama watched Kururu open the laptop on the floor, then reach up to pop the lid off the cylinder. It was two-thirds full of a small shriveled animal that didn't look like food.
Kururu took one of them by its three-pronged tail, and held it before the laptop. A green OK appeared on-screen a second later. "Says it's edible. Rejoice." Tamama pulled a disgusted grimace as Kururu tossed the dead animal back into the container. "Let's see if there's any water left in here," he said, and pulled himself up to check the left side of the room.
Tamama turned to investigate the right side. He found more food containers in varying states of emptiness, then something smaller caught his eye. It sat in a corner, its sleek metal exterior bringing Pekoponian thermoses to mind. He picked it up and tilted it from side to side; liquid splashed against the inside of the cap.
He stole it from the corner and braced himself with it as he sat. The cap swiveled off under impatient fingers, and the clear water inside reflected the orb above Tamama.
Replacing the cap, he said, "Kururu, I found water!" His quiet voice wasn't going to reach Kururu from across the room, so he grabbed the canteen and walked to the other side as briskly as he dared. "Look, I got some..."
Tamama trailed off as he reached the wall's opposite corner. Kururu was already sitting there drinking from an identical canteen, with none of the restraint he'd shown throughout the day.
Back turned to Tamama, Kururu didn't notice his approach. He set the canteen down with a sigh, and wiped a forearm across his chin.
Tamama fidgeted, fingers squeezing the canteen he'd found. "Uh, shouldn't we try to save some?"
Kururu glanced over his shoulder, saw Tamama, and scoffed. "Save it for what?" He rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead.
Tamama rolled his eyes. "Quit bein' a butt, Kururu. Sarge and Dororo are gonna come down here and find us, right?" He sat on the floor, canteen held upright in front of him. "So we just hafta hang on a little longer."
Eyes to the wall, Kururu made no move to close up his canteen.
"And we got real food now." Tamama twisted off his canteen's cap. "So I really think you should eat something."
Kururu snatched up his canteen again. "You can eat the dead rats. I'm fine."
"Y'don't look fine," Tamama muttered. He attached the canteen's opening to his lips and chugged like that life-giving liquid couldn't get into him fast enough. He broke away a few seconds later, choking for air, and doubled over from the resulting agony.
Kururu's laugh made a tinny echo in the rim of his canteen. "Knew you couldn't hold back." He put it down, and worked his way to his feet using the wall beside him. "After all, you're only a..."
Still wincing from the muscle spasms in his chest, Tamama managed to look up when Kururu failed to finish a mean comment. The sergeant major was leaning heavily against the wall, trying to stay upright, fingers slipping on the metal.
"Kururu?" Tamama grit his teeth and forced himself off the floor.
Kururu didn't answer. The rushing in his ears drowned out Tamama's voice. He stopped feeling the wall at some point.
It wasn't until the wall lights realigned with themselves that Kururu remembered where he was. He didn't know how long he'd been lying on the floor, however.
"Are you okay?" Tamama's worried face popped in from above, blocking some of the light.
"What kinda dumbass question is that," Kururu deadpanned. "I'm great. I'm fantastic." He rolled onto his side and pushed himself up. His vision went fuzzy again, but he persisted, groping for the wall with one hand.
Tamama raised a hand halfway, then lowered it. "Was the water too old? Was something bad in it?"
"No, it's fine." Kururu managed to get his back against the wall. He resisted the urge to shrink away from the cold metal. "Couldn't be safer."
Some of the tension left Tamama's frame, and he looked away to scan the room. "I don't think we should stay here. Let's take some food and..." He trailed off, staring at something in a far corner.
Kururu watched as Tamama got up and walked off, blending into the shadows where the orb light couldn't reach. Then a new light glowed from an alcove.
Tamama returned to Kururu. "I found some beds. They don't even look used."
"Nice of Corpse Bro not to die in 'em." Kururu started dragging himself to his feet, but Tamama closed in to slide an arm under his. Kururu tried to back out of the unwanted assistance, but it was already too late.
Tamama's eyes widened. "Ew, when'd you get all hot and sweaty?!"
"We took the same trip through Hellscape starring Death Sun, y'know."
"But we've been underground for like an hour!" Tamama had more to say, but the light trembling he felt from Kururu shut him up. He sighed. "Forget it."
Tamama had meant to support Kururu. But the pair leaned against each other instead as they hobbled across the floor to the alcove.
Two pairs of pipe-framed bunk beds dominated the small space, leaving only a narrow path between them. The mattresses were designed for aliens a head taller than most Keronians.
The moment one of the beds came within reach, Kururu brushed off Tamama's support. He pulled himself onto the bare mattress and collapsed face-down on the soft white material.
"I'll go get the water," Tamama said, leaving the alcove.
Kururu shifted onto his side, and inched closer to the middle. He groped blindly above him with one arm; no blankets or pillows. But the mattress itself was comfortable enough.
Tamama came back with both canteens under his right arm, and the mostly-empty water bottle in his left hand. He set all three in the space between the beds, and checked on Kururu. His side rose and fell in slow breaths, already asleep.
After several false starts, Tamama climbed into the bottom bunk opposite Kururu's, and eased onto his back. It was nothing compared to his huge bed back in Momoka's mansion, covered in cloud-soft pillows and a sea of candy, but it was heaven after sleeping on rocks.
Tamama awoke to the dryness coating the back of his throat. He swallowed, glanced at the canteens nestled between the bunks, then stared at the metal slats holding up the mattress above him. He hated how he was getting used to being thirsty.
He pushed himself up to look at the bunk across from his. Kururu was curled up facing the wall, silent. Tamama gnawed at the inside of his cheek, then stepped across the gap between the beds. Kururu was streaked with sweat, and didn't respond to Tamama's weight sinking in nearby.
"Kururu?" Tamama reached out, inches from touching. "Can you hear me?"
Kururu mumbled something, but didn't stir. Tamama put a hand on Kururu's arm, and drew back immediately from the heat.
He slipped to the floor, eyes darting for something. He had water, but nothing to use it with.
Something itched at his scalp. Frustrated, he shoved his hands under his hat and threw the offending objects to the floor—Type G remnants, bandage roll, the last gauze pad.
He blinked, irritation fading, and crouched to pick up the third item.
Tamama returned to Kururu's side with the dampened gauze, and reached for his shoulder. He'd barely touched the skin when Kururu came to with a startled hiss of breath, twisting around to grab Tamama by an earflap. Tamama yelped and caught himself on the mattress, jerked down at an angle.
They stayed like that for a few seconds, until Kururu's hand unclenched itself, and fell limp. His other hand went to his face as he sighed. "Don't do that."
Tamama bolted upright, heart pounding, and picked up the gauze from where he'd squished it into the mattress. "I just wanna help," he said, offering it to Kururu.
Kururu reached for it, paused, then turned away. "What's the point."
"Sarge and the others must be lookin' for us." Tamama crossed his legs and kept his eyes on his lap. "So we gotta survive, right?"
"And how do you propose they find us?"
"Well... they can..." Tamama squeezed the damp gauze as he clenched his fists. "Sarge won't give up! I know he's gonna come down here and save us."
"Oh, great." Kururu slowly slid his hands down his face. "We're stuck at the bottom of a post-apocalyptic hole, and it's making you even more insufferable."
Tamama didn't look at him, face heating up. His hope and excitement from the other night was starting to make him feel like a childish nitwit.
Kururu stared at the bunk above. "Breathable air and no life. Why did that not tip me off?"
Tamama looked up. "Huh?"
"Real convenient location, too." Kururu kept going as if Tamama hadn't spoken. "Obviously something wasn't right, but I didn't check into it."
Tamama didn't like the implications of this one-sided discussion. "Y'mean like, the flea got this world first, then came to Pekopon? And we brought it back here, so it woke up, and—"
"That's not what I'm talkin' about. It doesn't go for seconds."
Tamama knit his brow. "Then why?"
Kururu laughed without humor. "If I'd had the... taken the time to, anyway, I'd know." He turned his back on Tamama and curled up again. "Could've avoided all this," he muttered into the mattress. "Too late now."
The alcove was too small for that much reality. Tamama removed himself from it without another word.
His eyes met the alien corpse's empty sockets, turning his stomach-knots to ice. If he ran into that gaze every time he left, his sanity would expire before he did.
Tamama approached the body, forever reaching one-armed into the empty container, and removed it with both hands. Weightless and brittle, its fluids had long since drained off and dried somewhere. A curve indented its torso where the cylinder's rim had pressed into it. The rags it wore kept Tamama from touching its dried flesh, but he shuddered at the skeletal contours felt through the threadbare cloth.
With the ragdoll mummy all but spilling from his arms, Tamama realized he didn't know a non-telepad way out of the room. That's when he spotted a wider-than-usual space between two containers, where a sliding door was. It opened smoothly, not quite as rust-obstructed as the doors further up.
The orb light inside the room only reached as far as the walkway's railing, leaving everything beyond it a black void. Tamama approached the rail, dumped the alien corpse below it, and shoved it off the edge with his foot.
The body made a splashing noise a few seconds later.
Tamama's mouth hung open in a long gasp. "Water!" He leaned against the railing and stared hard into the depths. His eyes adjusted enough to make out ripples reflecting starlight, and he wagged his tail. Then he considered what he'd just thrown in.
The pool's dark surface showed that one corpse didn't matter. It was full of them.
Tamama scrambled back into the room as if pursued.