Learning to Dance

admit defeat to him. He’d have to take matters into his own
hands.
“Well, Taz,” he said, putting his pack on backwards,
around the front. “It’s a good thing that I can climb faster
than the two of us combined.”
He reached down and helped her clamber up onto his
back. He shifted her weight, careful to avoid her injured
leg.
“Comfy?” he said. She thwacked him on the shoulder,
and then rested her head there.
It was a steep climb on unstable terrain, and rough when
you’re balancing the weight of two people instead of one.
Up had to stop a few times to rest, and Taz seemed a little
less coherent each time he set her down and picked her
back up again. Her fever was growing worse.
It was late afternoon when they finally reached the
summit, and Up’s strength was spent. He set Taz down
gently on the springy ground, and pulled out the radio
before exhaustion could overtake him.
“Cazadora, are you there? Come in, Cazadora. This is a
distress call from the fifth moon of the Graali planet. Two
Starship Rangers in need of immediate medical assistance. I
repeat, this is a distress call...”
He set the message to repeat, crawled back to Taz, and
waited. She slept, fitfully, and he told stories. It made him
feel like he was doing something. He told her about his
early career. His time on the Eagle. He talked until his
voice grew hoarse.
It might have been minutes, but it could have been hours
before the radio crackled to life again. Taz stirred restlessly
beside him.
“Commander Up? Come in, Commander Up. This is the
Cazadora.”
Up fairly flew to the radio. “This is Up. Tripp, am I glad