The hard part was supposed to be over. On the plane, the robots safely aboard, packed comfortably into their crates. A hour or two left to nap before they landed and the robot-wrangling began anew.
At least it was a non-stop flight this time.
The first thing Paige became aware of as she started to stir was just how hot it was, the low hum of the plane's engines replaced by deafening whining. She shifted, but when she turned her head to try and see where she was, her vision swam, nearly passing out from the nauseating wave of vertigo.
What was going on?
It wasn't until she lifted a hand to brush hair out of her vision and her fingers came away red that fear started to coil it's way into her strangely out-of-it detached state. And finding herself trapped, certainly didn't help. She took it slow, twisting so she could lean on one arm and lift her head, trying to get some stock of where they were, squinting against the bright sunlight reflecting off of the sand. Debris everywhere, twisted shreds of metal still bearing the cheerful paint job of the downed plane, luggage, people running across the sand, some screaming or crying, others calling for lost companions, like one stranger in a sweater-vest that nearly tripped over a shattered crate in his haste to search.
The crate that Paige had helped settle a particular robot in before the flight while teasing about adding another line to the instructions painted on the wood. 'HANDLE DELICATELY- SHE'S A LADY.'
"R-Rabbit!" Not nearly as loud a call as she'd like in the situation, but with her throat and mouth feeling so dried out from the heat, she was just grateful that calling out was an option.
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At least it was a non-stop flight this time.
The first thing Paige became aware of as she started to stir was just how hot it was, the low hum of the plane's engines replaced by deafening whining. She shifted, but when she turned her head to try and see where she was, her vision swam, nearly passing out from the nauseating wave of vertigo.
What was going on?
It wasn't until she lifted a hand to brush hair out of her vision and her fingers came away red that fear started to coil it's way into her strangely out-of-it detached state. And finding herself trapped, certainly didn't help. She took it slow, twisting so she could lean on one arm and lift her head, trying to get some stock of where they were, squinting against the bright sunlight reflecting off of the sand. Debris everywhere, twisted shreds of metal still bearing the cheerful paint job of the downed plane, luggage, people running across the sand, some screaming or crying, others calling for lost companions, like one stranger in a sweater-vest that nearly tripped over a shattered crate in his haste to search.
The crate that Paige had helped settle a particular robot in before the flight while teasing about adding another line to the instructions painted on the wood.
'HANDLE DELICATELY- SHE'S A LADY.'"R-Rabbit!" Not nearly as loud a call as she'd like in the situation, but with her throat and mouth feeling so dried out from the heat, she was just grateful that calling out was an option.