Dreams

It had been a few days, I suppose. It's not always the same locale you see. It's not even the same team. I work with amateurs because very few of us ever make it back. This would be the third run.

We walk along fault lines, taking note of the vegetation. Sometimes, it stops and shrivels up within seconds. When you see that writhing mass of dull jade, you pull away. It always means trouble.

Least, that's how I remember it. I only get flashes now. They said that would happen.

And we keep moving, always moving. I don't even ask why, I figure if every day...is exactly the same, what's the fault in going along with the plan. It's not like one can twist fate. It's not like that at all.

Coming up, a distance away...maybe fourty yards...there's what we want and I see them now. Crawling along the rocks, sliming and oozing down to their nectar...

We slow down and begin to ask what we're even doing. It's always the same.

Motion springs into effect and each takes a leap of faith
Slipstream time launch and we're back home
Now with another into the chute
Launching into it's pod, separated from it's home
Bodies lay on the floor, with what's needed being returned.

Again, that old singular time, winds down and another run is done.

We try.

We try very hard.