Staying Afloat

Cleanup of the town has begun. Under the radiating sun, everyone works with weary determination, clearing debris from the streets, sorting what can be salvaged from what must be discarded. 
          Thorn paces and gestures wildly, barking orders at the guards as he sketches out new defense plans against the Skelloids. His voice cuts sharp through the clamor of hammers and shovels. 
          Rubble drags the bones of fallen Skelloids across the square, hauling them to the outer wall where the foundations are being rebuilt. A trench deepens into the ground, a moat in progress. They sharpen the ends of the bones into jagged stakes, planting them in the ground like a spike trap should another attack ever happen. 
          Not everyone believes the effort will matter. Some citizens of Ossamaris argue bitterly, declaring the city doomed, urging a retreat to the mountains. Thorn meets them head-on, his fury matching theirs, refusing to yield. 
          Tension festers within the team as well. Rubble’s presence unsettles many, him being an android seems impossible to ignore. Yet, unspoken among them all, hangs the truth: without him, they might not still be alive. 
          Rubble wipes the grime from his hands as he turns to Thorn. 
          “There’s something I need to tell you about,” he says. “Helrix has an Ion Pulse Cannon. It can tear through Skelloids, vaporizing them. It still needs a Skelloid core to power it, but… If we can get one, your town will be safe from any threats.” 
          Thorn stills, eyes narrowing. “A weapon that strong?” His voice is half suspicion, half hope. 
          Rubble nods. For a long moment Thorn says nothing, only stares at the jagged skyline of the half-rebuilt wall. Then he exhales sharply, resolve hardening across his face. 
          “I’ll draw up a plan. I want every route mapped, every risk accounted for. If we’re bringing this cannon back, it’s going to be done right.” 
          Halo carefully picks her way down the rocky slope toward the cave near Ossamaris, the same one where she once hid Rubble. Moss sits, surrounded by a strange hoard of items: bits of glass that catch the light, bent spoons, coins dulled with age, scraps of jewelry. Trinkets and odds-and-ends, arranged with care as though they are treasures. 
          “Moss,” Halo says gently. 
          The green Skelloid turns, his form rippling like liquid around the bones inside. His eyeless gaze lingers on her, then flicks to the collection, as if showing it off. 
          She smiles. “I see! Hey, I want you to meet someone.” 
          Outside, on the shore, Rubble waits. When Moss follows Halo out of the cave, he stiffens at the sight of Rubble. He freezes, then points at Rubble, the gesture sharp with anger. 
          Halo steps between them. “It’s okay. He’s my friend.” 
          “I’m sorry that I brought the androids to you,” Rubble says, his voice low, steady. “And I think…” He glances toward Halo, then back at Moss. “I think you’ve been watching over her this whole time. Thank you.” 
          Moss doesn’t move. He only stares, green jelly quivering faintly, protective in his stillness. 
          “Come on,” Halo coaxes, gesturing between them. “Don’t be rude.” 
          Rubble crosses his arms. 
          Moss mirrors him, crossing his own limbs in the same stance, shoulders squared. 
          Halo reaches out, placing one hand on Moss, the other on Rubble, standing between them with earnest hope. “I really hope you guys can get along.” 
          Neither moves. Rubble and Moss lock on each other, silent, unblinking, as the waves lap at the shore. 
          Halo gazes further down the shoreline, where the cliffs dip low and the beach bends out of sight. 
          “What if we snuck away, just for a little while?” she asks. 
          “What do you have in mind?” 
          “It’s fall,” she says, her voice soft with mischief. “Our last chance to swim before the water gets too cold.” 
          For a moment he only studies her, then the corner of his mouth lifts. “I think we deserve a break.” 
          Together they wander past the curve of the cliff, where the world feels quiet and hidden. Rubble plucks a small flower from a grassy patch, tucking it gently into one of Halo’s braids. Halo touches it, her smile faint and warm. 
          Behind them, Moss sloshes up from the tide and clumsily imitates the gesture, trying to shove a stick into Rubble’s hair. 
          “Hey, quit that!” Rubble swats the stick away. Halo laughs, her voice carries on the wind. 
          The tide laps lazily at the sand, the water glowing faintly under the late afternoon sun. Halo slips out of her clothes down to her undergarments and splashes into the shallows. Water arcs off her as she wades in, braids whipping behind her. 
          Rubble freezes, staring, utterly speechless. 
          “Are you coming in?” she calls, treading water. 
          “Y-yeah,” he stammers, tugging off his shirt and wading into the surf. The waves catch him, pulling against his legs, and as soon as it’s deep enough he dives under. 
          Foam and spray break against them as the waves rise and fall. Halo hugs her arms across her chest, damp braids clinging to her shoulders, green eyes lit with both awe and nervousness as she stares at the endless shifting horizon. 
          Rubble pushes farther out, surfacing with his blue hair plastered across his forehead. He turns back toward her, the sun catching the water between them, and his gaze lingers. 
          “Are you okay?” Rubble asks. 
          “I don’t know.” Halo’s voice is uncertain. “It feels like the water wants to pull me under.” 
          “You know how to swim, right?” 
         “Maybe. A little bit.” 
          He reaches for her hand, his grip steady and warm. “Relax, I’ve got you.” 
          She bites her lip but lets him tug her forward. The water rises to her chin, her muscles locking with fear. Rubble slides an arm beneath her back, lifting her gently. 
          “See? You’re not sinking,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on hers. 
          Her heart hammers as she tries to let go of the tension. The waves bob her up and down, “It’s harder than it looks!” 
          “You’re doing fine,” he says, his smile softening. “Just look at the sky.” 
          Halo tilts her head back. Clouds drift slowly overhead, the sun blazing through them. For a moment, the fear slips away, replaced by wonder. Her braids fan out across the surface like drifting ribbons. 
          “Snakes!” Rubble shouts suddenly. 
          “It’s my hair, you idiot.” She splashes him with a laugh. 
          “I knew that,” he says, smirking. 
          Then his voice lowers, almost a whisper. “See? The water can hold you… if you let it.” 
          When she looks back, his face is so close she forgets about the waves entirely. 
          Rubble slowly eases his arm away, letting her float on her own. 
          “I’m sinking! What do I do?” Halo panics. 
          “Kick! Flail! Regret your life choices!” He moves forward and pulls her back to him. 
          At last, Moss builds up the courage to step into the water. The green Skelloid takes two heavy strides, and sinks straight to the bottom, vanishing in a churn of bubbles. 
          Halo and Rubble freeze. 
          “…He’s fine, right?” Halo asks. 
          Another plume of bubbles rises. 
          “He’s fine,” Rubble says. 
          When Moss finally lumbers back up, dripping and triumphant, thick strands of seaweed cling to his head like a bad wig. 
          Rubble swims to the cliffside, hauling himself up the slick boulders. He stands at the edge and leaps. His body tucks tight, and he crashes into the water with a cannonball. 
          Moss watches, transfixed, slime rippling with curiosity. Then, without hesitation, he mimics the pose and launches himself high into the air. 
          “Oh god,” Rubble mutters, eyes widening. 
          Moss slams into the sea like a falling boulder, sending up a tidal wave. Rubble has only a second to look up in awe and dread before the wall of water engulfs him. When it finally settles, he’s sprawled against a rock, coughing and sputtering, hair plastered across his face. 
          Halo wades ashore and sinks into the sand, quiet laughter trailing her. She begins stacking smooth sand towers with precision, each little pillar balanced delicately. 
          Not to be outdone, Rubble crawls closer and tries his hand at a sand fort, only for the walls to collapse again and again, his effort falling apart before Halo can even guess what it’s meant to be. 
          With a sloppy thud, Moss drops down beside them and slaps together a massive mound of wet sand with his slime-coated hands. When Halo shows him how to shape it, he perks up with childlike eagerness, sculpting a giant, lumpy blob. 
          They clap and cheer as Moss jiggles with pride. 
          Rubble leans over to Halo, whispering, “What is it?” 
          “No idea,” she says, still clapping. 
          Halo wrings out her braids, the orange strands catching the last of the sunlight in glowing threads. Rubble’s gaze lingers, a small smile tugging at his lips. 
          She exhales, almost wistful. “Time to get back to reality.” 
          They slip back into their clothes, brushing the sand from their skin. Together, they walk along the fading shoreline toward Ossamaris, while Moss lumbers after them, gleefully chasing seagulls the whole way.