Petrolea 6c

“We have to burn petroleum until I can grow a windmill-tree or patch into the Berg’s electrical system,” Toledo said, “but I don’t plan to stay that long.”

“No,” said Feroza, “I suppose you don’t.”

“I still don’t believe they’ll arrest you. Or that being arrested would be worse than staying out here. But,” Victor sighed, or maybe he was just gasping for fresh air. “We will need more feedstock, whatever you want to do.”

As if in sympathy, the mother Dragon burped and stopped regurgitating fuel into the still.

“Let her hunt again,” said Feroza.

“Will it be able to feed all her Dragonlets and the still as well?”

Feroza turned her palms up. “We left a rather large pile of corpses halfway down the Berg. If she gets back to them before the scavengers have dragged them all off–“

His suit clanked against hers. Victor had grasped her arm. “Don’t go with it this time. Stay here.”

“With you, you mean?”

Feroza tried hard to analyze her reactions. She disagreed with Victor on the most fundamental levels about the most important things. And yet, she found she liked the man. Wanted to spend more time with him. “I suppose the mother Dragon is well enough to hunt by herself. And you can work faster if you needn’t worry about being eaten.”

“Work,” said Victor, “yes.” He lifted himself up by the elbows. “I will fabricate patches for my suit, then walls, then more food, since we can’t actually eat if we can’t take off our suits.”

“So we will need that pleasure dome you planned, after all,” said Feroza.

He stared up at her from his prone position. “Pleasure dome?”

What must he think of her? Feroza’s cheeks flamed. “A slip of the tongue.” And that double-entendre only made her blush more.

“Heh. No problem.” Victor pulled himself upright and twiddled his fingers. The mother Dragon stiffened and a column of little black factors pushed their way out of her skin and plopped to the ground.

“Your slave factors,” said Feroza. “You’re freeing her?”

“I don’t have enough to work on me and it at once,” said Victor. “And if you are staying here, I won’t worry about that thing attacking you.”

“You shouldn’t worry anyway,” Feroza said, “I know how to handle her.”

“Oh. Uh.” Victor looked up at her again. “I guess you do. Of course. Well, we can trust it to hunt and return by itself, yes? Then I can use the slave-factors to work on my suit until it gets back. Then I can work on figuring out how to make the Dragon fly us back to Xanadu.”

Whatever warmth Feroza had just been feeling drained away. “No,” she said.