Ben gasped.

Finding himself staring down at his toes, half-shorn by space-walk boots, half-covered by ruddy socks. Hands on knees, he heaved in air. Staring at what multiplied itself then faded back into one. 

The air was too thin today.

If he wasn't careful, he'd pitch off the edge into the stairwells down beneath his joined platform. That fall wouldn't just be unpleasant; it'd leave his form a mangled unrecognizable sight at the bottom. 

"Ben, speak to me!" Sam's voice, the perfect pitch of don't die on me and indignance that their pull might be thwarted any length of time.

He sniffed in air the way he'd been taught by their Oversee. The Malcus Beast had shown him while sharing substantial nozzle slime. A lesson that would now save him from passing out and falling off the platform that was barely big enough to sit on. And the measly rope-tie holding him here wouldn't hold up his weight, no matter what safety protocols it was supposed to satisfy. 

His feelings returned from feeling space-wide and lofty-light. He took a deeper breath, terranlike lungs somehow finding enough helpful air to keep him conscious. 

"I'm here." He told his heart-linked, hoping his voice would be strong enough to hear over what was happening closer to the energy core. Sam had told him many times to speak up over the last few weeks— otherwise he'd knock him hard and not repent. A silly joke, since they'd been linked since age fifteen, and in five achingly long years, Sam had yet to lay a finger on him in anger. "I'm here."

"Armăchidă, Ben. Don't void on me, Spaceflare."

"Language, Nastymaa." Ben coughed. "Not trying for lights out here..."

"Do it on your own time!" Sam really was worried in that tone somewhere, Ben felt. The ear comms crackled from the flares they farmed. "I'm about to send this push, and I don't want all my hard work to be disbursed to the void. And I'll use any language I want."

"Yes, you will," Ben agreed, straightening, preparing his hands and arms and chest armor to direct his rig to catch the throw. "And get us beat."

Sam was silent then. 

Ben let him be. He adjusted his stance and breathed hard, willing himself not to lose reality again. He looked forward to the oxygen bath they'd get at the end of their hard work. Always did. He'd sleep like a null-ghostie tonight.

The distant rig finally at the right spot, he focused hard, and told his heart-linked, "Do it."

"Sending." Sam's breath picked up with the action.

From down below in the tiny-moon-sized well of bounced energy aura, a ball of red-maroon energy appeared. 

It was within the range of Ben's rig only, so Ben gently reached like only he could do and scooped up the energy ball and re-directed it towards the collector.

It was a decent scoop-and-toss, relieving his mind yet again that they'd not be going to rest period without adequate nourishment. The Oversees were at least predictable like that.

The toss was sucked into the range disburser and signaled ready again by a green light. 

Ben breathed against the thin, thin atmosphere of Carnyl and tried to reset. "Nice toss."

"Hmn. Thanks for dinner."

"Thanks you for aim."

"Whatever. Ready?" Sam's voice hadn't stopped moving over heavy breaths. 

Ben nodded, although he knew Sam couldn't see. Finally his lungs stopped screaming from the focus, and were convinced they had enough air again. He found the words to protest, "Could we have less haste?"

"Never. Dinner waits on the other side of this day, and this day is boring like all the rest, so hurry the dongblŭ poo."

Ben didn't have enough air to protest language this time, so he focused a pang of -no, unacceptable- through their link. He knew Sam would at least feel the urge. Then he said low, sounding breathy to his ears, "Go."

Sam did.

And he caught the ball and sent it to the collector.

They did the repeats in silence. Ben felt Sam stewing, per typical, so he didn't worry him with many words. 

But then there was a distant alarm.

Ben felt his head swiveling, but in the thin atmosphere, he couldn't tell what the alarm was for. He could barely discern sounds beneath him. "Uh, there's an alarm..."

"Flick 'em. They told us the alarms were pointless. Get ready to catch—"

"Sam, no, wait. Lemme..." Ben then saw the far-off platforms behind him. Leagues and leagues away, easily seen in the distance.

The other slaves were jumping off the platforms to their deaths.

Fear gripped his throat.

The other slaves had talked about what was worth self-death: the periodic ground flares in response to solar flares. It was ongoing pain to live through one. Better to die quicklike. 

He'd thought through it without Sam. His plan, if one ever occurred, he would race to Sam's side and they'd try to survive somehow or die together. 

"Sam get off the rig!" He hollered while unclipping himself and starting down the perilous platform. "Meet me on the walkway or stairs! Do it now!"

To Sam's credit, he actually listened well enough to hear the panic behind his words.

"Kay. What's wrong?" Sam was on the move, judging by his breathing.

Ben went down the stairs as fast as he could, jumping down into corners, catching his breath to will his legs down more. Jump. Hit. Breath, move. Move. "No time!" He managed to gasp out. "Move!" 

He knew he'd get to Sam's long walkway before Sam was able to exit, so he stopped registering everything except getting to him.

The shaking started part-way down, signaling the shortness of time in suffocating fashion.

Ben heard Sam's breathing get heavier in his ear, but he panted just as hard, banging knees, underarms, sides against the metal sides of the stairs. He tried to yell for Sam to keep moving—

Then he was to the level Sam was trying to escape. 

But looking for Sam's person in the bucking spaces, all he could make out was the angry orange wisps starting to waft up from down beneath. 

"Gahh!" Sam's voice cried out.

"Sam!" Ben begged his balance to work and stepped out onto the forever-long walkway that led to the underbelly of the plant. 

That's when he saw Sam, struggling to hang onto the outside of the walkway—

Ben ran. 

The bucking walkway's handholds bit into his hips on both sides as he ran, slamming one way and then the next. Still he ran. Praying, heaving air, vision narrowing on Sam...

And somehow closed in as Sam slipped—

"Aaahh!" Sam cried out.

Ben strongly snagged Sam's thermal suit's arm and solidified his grasp, focusing on not letting go—

They both struggled, pulling and hanging on until Sam's torso was beyond the bar, then Ben used his legs for leverage—

Everything pitched violently.

Dumping them together into open air.

Free air filled Ben's ears and he panicked at nothing beneath them—

Then something hit them breath-takingly hard from the side—

Too soon to be any energy burst from below—

Ben turned his face to see bright red—

"Gotcha!" a barely-discernible voice hollered over the roar of the energy well beneath them—

He felt their direction shift to up, up, and up, and, for a moment, dared to look down. Beneath his feet he saw the formerly orange and usually-tame energy billowing up at them in purple neon fire explosion—

No way they'd survive it.

"If you've gotta plan," the voice yelled, "now's good!"

Ben managed to meet Sam's eyes behind his helmet and glimpse that a skidder had them—

Suddenly, an inverse lightning storm, crackling blue, rose up out of the purple fire to swarm around them—

Ben yelled as his skin and hair registered incoming electrocution.

The lightning hit them.

The screams that were theirs went silent into a green haze.

Ben took in a deep breath and realized he couldn't.

He was suffocating.

He fought to bring a hand to his neck. 

But it was as if his arms were held. 

Vision filled with the green, he panicked against death. 

Then he hit the ground.

Ben opened his eyes with a gasp. He sat up quickly. 

His head both hurt and swam.  

Squeezing his eyes shut, he pushed his hands to his face and leaned forward over his knees.

Everything hurt. 

"Oh, you wake. Terrific." A voice said over him. It was distinctly young-sounding.

He let out a small groan to let them know he wasn't able to answer yet. Pressing at his eyeballs seemed to help his head. 

A very large hand or paw gently came down on his shoulder. "You have a name, friend?"

Ben tried to answer, but the sound that came out was a partial grunt, partial ahgg.

Another voice, one farther away, said lowly, "This pause is ill-advised." 

The hand on his shoulder lifted. "You could assist, Alle." The voice above him was quieter than before, but it still managed to hurt. 

Ben hoped that his pain wasn't bleeding through the heart-link to Sam. Sam. Remembering Sam was enough to cause him to lower his hands and open his eyes.

"Sam," he whispered, taking in the green beneath him and around him, like the forests of Hypeleph. Trees? Plants? There were absolutely none of those on Carnyl. 

"Your name is Sam?" The voice above him asked.

Ben turned to look up, and flinched back.

There was an enormous man crouched above him. Even the man's smile didn't detract from the slightly glowing blue eyes he stared at him with. The man's broad shoulders lifted as he showed his palms. "Sorry. I shall not harm you, Sam." The man's voice was entirely too young-sounding for his size.

Ben scooted back. "Who are you?" The only thing his hurting head would offer is that perhaps this man's long golden hair meant he'd been added into some sort of afterlife. "Am I dead? Where's S—Ng!" His head flared into pain, causing him to lean and bring a hand up. 

"Easy, easy..." The big man put a hand on his shoulder again. "Alle, they need help."

There was movement around him, but the spike throbbing inside his head wasn't subsiding in intensity at all. He grit his teeth against it.

The hand was removed, then arms were picking him up, causing Ben's inner gravity laws to do flops. He groaned accidentally. 

"I have him. Get the others." The voice above him hurt to hear due to proximity. Ben managed to squint open his eyes. He glimpsed white hair and silver-white cape clasps before having to squeeze his eyes shut against the pain. "We'll make for Marksman Hŏvel."

"No." The first one, the one with the glowing blue eyes, responded. "We'll need answers. The Oŏrtivfy will only muddle this. We consult a Onglŏs or Prŏphes, or we make the trek back."

The one holding him answered sharply, "This is not our mission."

Ben clutched at his head tighter as each sound stabbed with seeming intent to end him.

The first one replied quietly, "No? It looks abnormal to me. Come. Now. Samŏh do not belong in Ăn Idir."

The one holding Ben did not respond, but there was a distinct movement that started.

He heard the first one say, "I got you, Little One. Just rest calmly."

Ben's head spiked in pain again, causing him to hold his breath against it. 

That was the last thing he felt before it all slipped away.