Runt looked up.

The edge of the sun was just starting to peek over the sculpted skyline of downtown New Medina, bringing with it searing rays, the same rays that were pressing Runt closer and close to the red brick wall on his right as he shadowed his way down a sidewalk. He squinted his eyes and lowered his body a little more. Heat was unwelcome.

Good thing we're meeting indoors. Runt thought to himself, turning a corner into a more shadowed street. The concrete under his feet was already uncomfortably warm, and more heat from New Medina's scorching sun would only add stress to his body. Stress he could avoid by taking a detour through shaded streets lined with striking, Arabic-style architecture. His eyes traced the peaks of minarets, and delved through hand-painted teardrop arches.

Despite the hellish atmosphere and terrorism, New Medina did have a charm to it.

It must have been truly breathtaking before the war.

Shade hit Runt's face like cold water, pulling his eyes up. Sandstone cliffs laced with stairways and capped with glowing architecture towered over Runt and blotted out the searing sun, and served to remind Runt of New Medina's third dimension: depth.

Runt's footsteps started to clank as he trotted into the shade. The concrete and paving fell away like a beach, giving way to steel grate and plating. The cliffs towered above, but below, a gorge plunged two-hundred yards into the earth. Both were features of the desert world Runt had adapted to. Cliffs criss-crossed the city, and gorges sliced their way under the grand metropolis. They created a mosaic across the desert of highs and lows, whole districts of the city built high above, or carved out down below. Thousands of people baked on the clifftops, lounging under palms and soaking in the vistas of red rock and scorched desert, and thousands more sheltered in the gorges, insulated from the solar fires and scathing sandstorms as they moved New Medina's industry from beneath.

From another of the rusted bridges, Runt's silhouette could have been lost in the greys and reds of old steel. He'd spent hours navigating the vertical and the horizontal in New Medina, and he understood how to get around without bringing attention to himself.

Traveling like a true Springer certainly helped.

Runt looked down, through the grate. Below, shadows deepened and life bloomed. He could see to the bottom of this gorge, his vision cutting through the tangle of fall-nets, cables, pipelines, walkways and more. At the very bottom, roads ran and carried traffic. Walkways teemed with humans and more, lights glittered upwards at him like abysmal stars and the cool, quiet underground offered him shelter from merciless skies.

He knew better than to heed the temptation.

New Medina's underground was flooded with people during the day. And more eyes meant more chances to get spotted. Being 'in public' would not protect him on New Medina. If assassins found him in a crowd, he'd die there too. And little would be done about it.

The solution was a strenuous approach.

Hopefully Quix is staying out of the tunnels. He thought, dodging through a sparse crowd as his feet found concrete once more. He peered up as he dug into one of his hip pockets, tracing his route vertical with his eyes.

The quiet hum of electric engines and chattering crowds filled up the street as Runt pulled gloves from his pocket and slipped on his climber's gloves. Springer's fingers were tough enough... but he preferred a little extra grip. He looked both ways before he jumped.

To his left, the city center. Skyscrapers, massive drones hovering above, all nestled into the backdrop of mountains in the far, far distance.

And to his right, industry. Factories and facilities sprawled for miles, stretching into the distance and puffing smoke and water vapor into the atmosphere as they very nearly obscured the docking scaffolds, towering into the sky on the edge of the city.

All clear.

Runt dropped low, and sprang.

Every muscle in his core, his tail, and his legs uncoiled like a catapult.

The pavement fell away, air hissed by like kisses, and the cliff rocketed in to meet Runt's reaching hands.

Impact.

Runt's hands instantly found their holds, as did his feet. His tail slapped against the stone and burned off his speed while he grit his teeth and looked upward, already planning his next leap. Several astonished shouts and calls from below betrayed gawking humans, to no surprise of Runt's.

Runt shifted, planted his feet in the right places, and jumped again.

Stone raced by just inches from his body. He passed by ninety feet vertical, and tossed a glance backward.

He remembered when he'd been so unsure of climbing in front of Humans, that he'd taken the stairs.

Now, he prided himself in making the climb in four leaps.

He impacted again, and pulled himself onto a ledge.

Black spray-paint graffiti stained the burnt orange stone, and several empty white and red corathol bottles lay on the rocky outcrop. He wasn't the only Springer to take that route.

He jumped again.

He landed. The most precarious landing.

His feet touched, and his palms slammed against the stone in front of him on a thin, sandy outcrop. All along the ridge, thin, ribbon-like cactuses twisted and spiraled over the edges of the rock like needle-edged DNA strands. The pale greens and silvery needles didn't deter Runt, though. He shuffled to one side, stepping over the pins and ribbons as he moved to his next jump.

I'll miss these. He thought, plucking a few of the tiny, violet fruits off the cactuses and downing them. The sour taste would be missed. The heat required to grow them would not be.

Runt made his final leap.

His gloved hands caught on the rail at the edge of the cliff as he vaulted over and lifted up dust as his feet impacted. His gloves came off as he started to march into the clifftop plaza in search of shade and Quix. Shops and boutiques flew by, advertising the strange sights and souvenirs New Medina had to offer, or promising to deliver a service to enrich the senses. Some days, early in the mornings, he'd browse the streets, taking in the sights, window shopping, basking in the exotic human melting pot.

But not today.

Runt glanced up and down the street, checking for vehicles before he turned sharply towards the opposite flank. In three fluid bounds he was across the street.

Runt's stomach growled by itself. Not out of hunger, thought.

I know, I know. He thought, answering his bodies' incessant dread. I'm going. He swiped across his belly with his left hand, hoping somehow to calm his tangled nerves. But a re-scheduling from Quixxa was rare, and it hadn't yet signaled something good.

That was a lot to stake on one mid-morning meetup.

Runt cut to his left, sliding under a table crowned with bright fabric and blocking an alley, left over from the weekend bazaar. The miniature bazaar held on the edge of the campus clogged every vein and artery of campus for one evening, and some days, very little of it was cleaned up the next day or even the next week.

Runt's destination was close. The alley was the last path he'd have to take before reaching his meeting spot. The pads of his feet made only the gentlest sound as he carefully touched his way down the alley, watching for broken bottles. He scanned the dunes in front of him, his eyes darting back and forth, back and forth, picking out shards of glass to avoid...

"Hey,"

Runt's reflexes kicked in before he could register the voice.

The powerful muscles in his legs exploded with adrenaline, lifting him off the ground like a cat off hot tin. His arms and tail flailed like streamers in a hurricane, self-preservation and adrenaline-soaked muscle reaching out and grasping at the underhang of a second story balcony. He clung to the underside like a nervous, shaking chandelier.

His rational mind took over again, forcing him to look at the ground to identify the sound before he continued his frantic ascent.

The first thing he noticed was the laughter.

Below the upside-down Springer was Quixxa, leaning against a pillar of an arch, looking up at Runt with a raised eyebrow that arched at the same angle as the decorative entryway beside her. Her toothy smile was wide, as wide as her eyes were narrow. She had her arms crossed loosely and her feet crossed as she stared up at him with a twinkle in her eye and a laugh on her lips.

Runt blinked at her, forcing his body to recognize her as Quixxa, not as a threat. He smiled at her, upside down.

"Jumpy much?" she asked, gesturing lightly with both her tail and hand at the same time.

Runt, his muscles still quivering from the surprise, let out his breath and started to take stock of his over-worked frame. The frantic heartbeat, quivering muscles, shallow breaths.

His fight or flight had been worn down to the bone on New Medina. It was starting to show.

"I was not expecting you." He said emphatically, trying to calm himself. He let out another breath, and started to lower himself a little. "I think you owe me for a new heart."

He let himself hang by his arms, dangling his tail until it touched the ground. He let himself fall, his stiff tail letting him down slowly like a startled snake easing off its target.

Quixxa, still leaning against the wall, smirked at Runt and nudged the inside of her cheek with her tongue. She was deciding if she should or shouldn't say something. Runt couldn't help but smile back. If she was debating it, she'd say it.

"You know," She said, tapping the area over her heart, "I can arrange that."

Runt grinned.

"Hey Quix." He said.

Quixxa pushed herself off the wall with her shoulder and opened her arms to Runt.

"Hey Runt. Sorry about the startle."

Runt stayed in place, standing still while Quixxa took two steps forward and gave him a firm hug. He returned the same, closing his eyes briefly and relishing the momentary contact. She was the only person on New Medina he hugged. Ever. He strongly suspected the same was true for her.

They parted, both taking a step back as Runt's subconscious yelled for more contact. He ignored it.

"It's all right." Runt said, shrugging. "I needed some excitement." He said, and started to walk, motioning to her to join him.

She arched one of her eyebrows perfectly again. A 10 out of 10 for sarcastic glances. "You need more excitement? I think you need a vacation." She said, giving Runt a nudge playfully. "And don't try to tell me your summer job was a vacation. It was not."

He gave her an irritated, brief narrowing of the eyes and a snort.

"Yeah yeah yeah. I know. I'm working on it." He looked at her and smiled again. "Anyway. How are you? Why the reschedule? Something wrong?"

His stomach was already boiling with questions, a froth of anxiety rolling over the rim of his mind. The last few times she'd rescheduled, bad, bad things followed.

She shook her head.

"Nah, nothing's wrong. Just some scheduling conflicts." She said, rolling her eyes.

Runt raised his brow, his anxiety not any milder.

"Who else do you have on your schedule? I thought we were cutting ties..." He said tentatively. He paused at the end of the alley, one paw lifted off the sand and curled half under him as he glared at the sun-baked cement that sizzled just a few paces away.

"We are." She said. "I'm just meeting with our contacts before we start the last phase. And... I kinda wanted to show you something."

Runt looked at Quix, knowing the shy hesitation in her voice.

He saw it in her eyes too. Vulnerability. Hope that he'd share her excitement in whatever it was he had to show him. She'd been disappointed so many times, she practically had to get Runt's wordless permission to show real joy.

He wasn't about to swat down her good mood either.

"Ok, let's see it. Wanna head into the café first?"

She gestured to a back alley.

"Na, better do it out here."

"Ok."

Quix ducked into the brick and adobe alley, and Runt followed as they jumped over a poorly tended cactus fence behind a row of restaurants. Sand, blown in by one of New Medina's constant sandstorms, covered the alley's concrete and muffled their footsteps as Quix led Runt to a rusted dumpster and stopped on a little pile of sand.

"Ok, Runt, check- Ahh!"

Quix jumped vertical.

Runt's nerves sent terror across every inch of his skin as he froze.

He heard Quix cursing, but he didn't see anything.

He didn't hear anything...

He looked at the diminutive sand dune she'd stepped on.

And he understood.

"Quix, it's a sand crab." He said, looking at one of the few endemic species on New Medina. "It's ok."

"They're poisonous!" She said from above.

Runt looked up, and put his hands on his hips as he looked at her clinging to the side of an air condition unit.

"I think you mean venomous. And also, they're neither. They're harmless."

Quix squinted at Runt, and Runt just returned her glare with a grin.

"Well I hate them." She said.

He chuckled.

"Who's jumpy now?" he prodded.

He scooped up the harmless arthropod, and held it in his palm. They were suited to the desert, unlike him. In fact, if he hadn't seen it moving, he'd have mistaken it for a rock. Rust-red and irregularly shaped, the little critter peered up at Runt with beady stalk-eyes, waiting to be returned to the sand.

Unlike some creatures, sand crabs had no fear of people of any species.

"You can come down now." He said, tossing the crab to a nearby sand pile.

Quix dropped with a thud and a huff.

"I swear, I hate this planet."

Runt shrugged.

"It'd be cooler if it was, well, cooler."

"It'd be cooler if I could actually go see the cool places. The canyons, the caves, those old forests or whatever. Or like, the big concerts and stuff." She said, unslinging her backpack. "But I've been stuck doing MLA crap for so long..."

Runt was about to speak when Quix cut back in.

"I won't have to be doing MLA crap much longer though Runt. I got my package last night. I opened it too. I wanted to show you."

Runt felt a jump in his chest.

It came.

He knew what 'it' was.

Quix laid her backpack on the cement. She unzipped it, and stuck both her hands inside to draw something out gently.

"It really came." She said, focusing on her pack. "I was starting to worry, And... I guess it wasn't really real to me yet. But it came Runt. It's all here."

She turned to him, eyes soft and smile weak. Her eyes, usually filled with violet fire, were wide and vulnerable. She offered Runt something in her hands.

Runt looked down at it, and he knew.

Her reward.

Runt felt his breath leave him and his heart tug.

Quite simply, it was what he, Osterman, and Pathmos had scraped together to thank Quixxa for helping them bring down a scourge on the Socotra System. A new life, a citizenship, and an acquittal. It was even more than that, too. It was a promise. A promise from his home that she, his friend, would be welcome by his side. It was a reassurance. A reassurance that his efforts hadn't been wasted, and a recognition that his heart of gold had given someone a little hope and a little help.

He took the smooth little box and opened it. Papers and an ID fell into his hands, and he noticed Quix's smile widen before she looked away and let out a tiny chuckle.

He felt his anxiety leave and his heart warm, if only for a second.

It was rare to see her truly happy.

But she had gotten more than she'd asked for. When she'd first expressed to Runt that she ached to get out of the market, Runt had offered to get her a reduced sentence, or a plea bargain. He was confident Osterman could help arrange that much. But as time went on, and as Runt gently edged in on Osterman's graces with probing questions, the plea bargain became a commuted sentence, which became an acquittal, which became a new identity, which became a citizenship. Her reward only grew.

And Runt had been the one tending the garden on a desert world.

As Runt turned her I.D. card over in his hand, he could only feel like his efforts had come full circle.

He may not have changed New Medina, like he'd hoped when he first spread his toes out in the scorching desert sands. But he'd saved one life. And hers was enough.

"Looks like you've got quite the package here." Runt said.

Quix crossed her arms and added a sniff.

"I'm really happy." Her voice quaked.

Runt looked at her.

Her eyes brimmed with joy. Her lip pouted with bliss. Her fists were tight under her crossed arms, trying to hold in what he knew would be tears.

He just smiled and let out a tiny laugh. He sniffed too as his heart squirmed in his chest under the weight of such joy.

"We did it Quix." He said, opening his arms.

Quix's lips quivered as her smiled nearly split her cheeks. She responded.

Their bodies met, and their arms entangled. Friend to friend, heart to heart. Runt felt her lean into him, her arms tightening and her fists taking up handfuls of his shirt.

He did the same. His cheek rested on her shoulder and his fingers pressed into her skin softly as she sniffed once more and managed to cover a whimper with a laugh. He felt her body tremble.

Runt's throat and chest ached from the emotion. He held onto her shoulders as they split apart.

"You ok?"

Quix pressed her lips together tight and nodded.

"Mm hm."

She blinked hard.

"I'm just... really happy. Sorry. Sorry."

Runt leaned in one last time, and gave a final squeeze.

"It's ok. I'm so happy for you. We're nearly done Quix."

She nodded.

"Just a few more days." She said, and cleared her throat. "Then we're off this sandy, crusted armpit of a world."

She laughed a little at her own joke, and Runt did too.

Runt handed over her things, and Quix handled them a little before she put them back into her daypack. Runt just smiled and thought. He watched her caress the box and set it in her backpack like a treasure. He felt his heart quaking. He felt the tides turning.

Quix turned around just then. She was slinging her backpack over her shoulder and rubbing her eyes with the heel of a gloved hand. That fire was back in her eyes, but the tender smile remained.

Runt stood up a little straighter. He knew that soft side was just for him. And he also knew that her vulnerability never lasted long. Not in public anyway.

"So, I've got some plans for once we get to Pathmos. I wanna do something fun before I get to work." She said, shifting the topic off her soft side.

Runt shifted.

"Got plans, huh?"

Quixxa wrinkled up her nose.

"Oh yeah." She said, gesturing towards the mouth of the alley. "I've been gathering a few ideas. Not just for Pathmos, but for once we go dark here."

Runt had to suppress a chuckle. There wasn't a thing they'd be doing planetside except surviving. Off world, though, they had options.

"What kind of stuff do you have in mind for Pathmos?"

"Skiing."

Right then, Runt and Quix came to the end of the alley. New Medina's sunlight touched Runt's skin like a branding iron. He