The captain stared intently at the last soup can in the pantry. Somehow, she found herself craving that cold, nasty, salty tomato paste by now. ...Probably had something to do with going three days without food or coffee. She absently wiped away a string of drool from her lip that she was only semi-aware of.
It's been four days since Baby first set out for the expedition. It was now Day 15... and he still hadn't returned. And no news from ASTRO only meant more building suspense on the poor man's status.
In that small time, their water supply had been contaminated, their coffee maker had broke, they received a transmission from another group of survivors, and...unsuprisingly, they only had one can of soup left.
Tom was kneeling over in his chair, whining about "lack of rations" despite Dawkins barely keeping up herself. "Uuuggghhh..." He moaned as if he was being tortured, which they all pretty much were, "If you're not gonna eat it, just let me do it!"
He sounded like he was on the verge of taking the food by force, but he didn't move a inch. Instead, he just resumed his childish groaning noises, like he had been doing for the past ten hours - much to Deedee's dismay.
Emmet snuck a peek at the battered woman from the lining of his glasses. He could tell she was on the verge of a breakdown, and the loss of her precious caffeinated drink didn't help. He vaguely sighed. "I told you that you should've saved that can for yourself, not me." He spoke with a shake of his head.
The blue eyed blonde only grumbled a response.
Her half-hearted friend fell silent, peering out the window, into the empty desert-like fields once again, "The star's setting again," He said regretfully, seeing no sign of their long-lost crewmember, "You should really eat the last soup so you can think tommarow."
"No...not yet." Was her immediate reply, "The suit isn't back yet, he could still be alive. I'm saving it for when...or if, he comes back..."
"That, or ASTRO hasn't convienently made the "replica" of it yet." Tom spat from his seat, "I swear, this game makes no sense..."
"Well, if you say so." Ellis shrugged, ignoring Tom's negativity, "But you could at least recycle the..." He paused, realizing the medkit and the communicator were all they had. "...nevermind."
The skinny black man tiredly sunk back in his chair, stretching a hand to shut off the lights. Before he did, he spared one more worried glance at the captain's gaunt features, "Just make sure you don't starve to death." Was his only request.
She nodded, forcing another crooked smile and a heart-warming: "Goodnight." despite her hopelessness.
Then, the power flickered to black.
...
Seconds ticked by, then minutes. That's when she realized.
She couldn't sleep.
Not just because of the endless rumbling of her cramping stomach, or Tom's constant snoring. It was a sound outside the shuttle. It was like... a tapping noise? Or was it footsteps crunching in the sa-
BLAM BLAM BLAM
Deedee and both of her crewmates jumped awake at the noise. "What in the he-" Tom began, but a new voice cut him off, "Let me...let me in...!" It rumbled, the all-too-familiar bass-like tone was undeniable. It sounded more of wheezes than words, but the crew understood it, nonetheless.
The captain was first to the door, working the latch open with effort. And there, barely standing, yet hulking in the doorframe, was Baby, somehow still alive. "Holy shit! You survived!" Deedee shamelessly cussed aloud, not believing her eyes. Though, she could barely see him through the darkness, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed.
The bitter stench of unfamiliar fumes stung her nose, making her peer up at him, concerned, "Are you ok?"
The frazzled man muttered a dizzy "...ah've bin butter," which only made her worry worse.
Then, the lights popped back on with a snap. Dawkins gasped, seeing the heavy bags under Baby's eyes and how his splotchy white skin contrasted with his scruffy ginger beard. She instinctively pulled away, but grabbed him again to keep him from collapsing to the floor.
His arms were full of filled flasks and rocks, plenty enough to sustain the crew for at least another two weeks. Emmet grimaced at the brute's unkempt appearance as he carefully plucked each item from his trembling arms.
As soon as the captain ripped the dirty helmet off of him, Bronco began coughing irratically. Tom reacted fast, yanking his collar over his face, as if to hide his five a clock shadow, "What kind of disease did you bring in here!?" He squealed in disgust.
Emmet peered over his shoulder, already noting the symptoms, "He must be poisoned. Might have inhaled some kind of alien gas or something. This place could be more dangerous than we thought..."
"But how!? I told him to go to the caves, the map said that there was no..." Deedee looked at Baby, who was knelt over, gasping for the shuttle's fresh air. "...You did go to the caves, right?"
He sputtered restlessly, obviously fighting to get the words past his head, "There... was a swamp... there... chemicals...and..." "-You went to the swamp!?" Deedee cut him off with a stressed shout, "Without a mask?"
"Only two...two soups, I-I couldn't..." Another fit of coughs, "let t-team down."
"Damn, he might be on his last leg, but you gotta admit that's both impressive and pure plot convienience." Thomson winked with a muffled smirk.
Dawkins scowled at the comment, helping her worse-for-wear companion back to his seat. His purple-ringed eyes were noticeably bloodshot and unfocused. "Did you get any sleep out there at all?" She said with a raise of her brow. He predictably shook his head with a slightly slurred, "not much..."
She frowned, glancing at the fifty or so chemicals and materials he brought back. "So... do you want a soup before you fall out?" Deedee questioned, noticing the twenty pounds he lost during his trip. He weakly shook his head to say "no", but the blonde shoved a pre-prepared spoonful of soup into his mouth anyways.
Despite his protest, he slurped it down greedily. "No one's dying on me tonight." She declared to both him and her emotionally-drained team, "We're all going to get through this mess together, ok? Even if it kills us."
They all stared back at her as if she just turned into a completely different person.
She took that as a compliment.
It took several more spoonfuls of soup before her exhausted teammate finally slumped back in his chair, snoring softly. She obliged taking out the medkit and tending to his nearly-infected wounds. She couldn't bear to risk him dying from his injuries overnight.
Tom smacked a ration of chemicals into the crafting machine, grinding his teeth, "Why does it have to take a whole day?" He griped impatiently, "It takes one day to craft soup, another day to craft another soup and auughhhhh..."
"Go to sleep." Dawkins stated as she busily wrapped Bronco's bloodied arm. The one-eyed brunette scowled, "You're just saying that because you know you're getting the first can."
"You know I can force you to go out right now in the same suit Baby wore, right?" The woman snapped, gesturing to the most likely contaminated space outfit laying in the floor. "...Right." Tom replied, eying the thing as if it were poison.
"Anyways, starving to death is not on my bucket list, 'captain.' So I'll make sure I improvise in the morning." He added, folding his arms over his chest. "Have fun with that." Deedee muttered, remembering all the other lies he's told during their adventure.
The sly man merely looked over at her with a smirk. "Goodnight." Was all he said.
...
An hour later, Dawkins tossed the empty medkit in the corner with all the other trash. Mainly empty soup cans and wrappers. She spared one more worried glance at Baby's sleeping form before sighing and collapsing into her chair.
It was a long, awful, but exciting day - at least. She gazed down towards the empty astrocitizen cup beside her chair. Still empty. But she continued staring at it, regardless. Hoping it would magically refill and use it's bitterly sweet scent to drag her back into serenity.
...It didn't. So she instead, closed her eyes and hoped to escape to it on her own.
She imagined the taste and smell, maybe a pinch of sugar, or creme... just how she liked it at home. Tinted slightly pecan with a small silver teaspoon dipped in for mixing.
The swirl, the colors, the perfect texture... The way the taste lingered on her tongue, especially after a tart-like flavor.
Though, her dreams quickly evolved to only herself and a giant, uncontrollable sea. Symbolisym for chaos and stress surrounding her with no escape.
She ended up tossing and turning all night, trapped in another hellish nightmare. One that was far too much like reality, this time.
But before she knew it, it was morning again.