Heart Of The Sun by Victoria Zagar

in Vash is just another foolish belief that will be broken. But if we can’t believe in friendship, in loyalty, in people - then why are we still alive?”
    “Go get him,” the doctor says. “I’ll be waiting for you both to come back.”
     
    ~
     
    The heat bears down on Alan as he drives his dune buggy across the purple sand. He wipes his brow and keeps driving, even as the mirage makes the purple desert seem to move like quicksand. His supplies of water soon run low, but he presses on, stopping only for a brief moment to watch the setting sun as it shimmers golden on the horizon. Rinax’s moon hangs low in the sky and Alan take a moment to appreciate the alien sunset, how the purple sand appears black and shimmering against the dying golden sun, how the massive crystals focus and refract the light, creating small rainbows and illusions in the sand. It’s a beautiful thing, this alien world. If only it was not at the heart of a hotly contested zone, I bet tourists would flock to see something like this. Colonists would be signing up in droves to live in a paradise with amethyst sand. Instead it’s a war zone, the crystals painted with the blood of Karalians and Humans alike, the desert littered with a thousand wrecked ships just like mine.
    Alan follows the dot on the mapping device as it takes him to the co-ordinates. As it grows dark, he sees a bright light on the horizon. A camp fire? Or a signal fire?
    He jumps off the buggy and pulls climbing equipment from the back. He throws a rope over a tree branch in case he falls, fastening the other end around his waist and begins to climb. In some places the rock is sheer and he fires massive staples from a gun to serve as footholds. The rope around his waist slips and chafes his injury, and he almost lets go as the pain burns into him. He grabs the next handhold and takes a breather, resting his face against the rock. He looks down and instantly regrets it, vertigo making his head spin and his stomach lurch. I’m built to be a fighter pilot, where I’m in control. I can’t do this. I can’t. He closes his eyes and hangs on, willing the panic away. Vash will die if I can’t pull myself together and climb this rock. He saved my life. I owe it to him to find out the truth of all this and see if I can’t help him somehow.
    Feeling better, he reaches for another handhold. Almost there. Just a little further. The flashlight on his helmet flickers and he curses under his breath. One more step and he puts his hands over the top edge of the cliff, pulling himself up. He unties the rope and leaves it at his feet as he surveys his surroundings. A large bonfire is lit, and he can see Vash crouched in shadow at the foot of it. He suddenly remembers the gentle brush of lips against his, the ever-so-slight taste of honey and nectar. No, it was just a dream. Vash didn’t kiss me. Why would he?
    He slowly walks along the cliff top, gravel crunching under his feet. Vash doesn’t move from his spot by the fire, he just sits contemplating the hot, crackling flames as they dance in his eyes. He’s mesmerized by their dance as they consume the wood and he doesn’t even seem to notice as Alan sits down beside him.
    “Vash.” Alan breaks the silence. “Vash, they’re looking for you. They think you’re a spy. Why did you run? What do you hope to achieve out here?”
    Vash is quiet for a few moments, then he speaks softly in heavily-accented English. “I had not thought I would see you again.”
    He can speak our language? This is no magic; such an accent could only come from his real voice. But what Karalian would learn English, if not a spy? “You speak English? Then why the jewel? Why the translator? Why the deception?”
    “A misunderstanding could have been fatal. The jewel makes it... easier to communicate. The translator made Macey feel he was in control. I am sorry for any deception.”
    I must have faith. Vash would not betray me. “I had to come after you.