From: Josh Harrison
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [Chance] Awakening
Date: 12 Sep 1993 01:52:56 GMT
Message-ID: <26tvdo$mo2@usenet.rpi.edu>

	Chance closed his journal and looked across the cold firepit at his 
copilot. Dartan's fever had broken, but his skin was still a ather sick shade of
red. There was still no indication that he would be recovering anytime soon.
	Chance's eyes moved from his copilot's still body to the scenery around
him. They were wrecked in a wide, open plain, with only a few trees in sight.
It was possible that there was an ocean several miles off, but he couldn't tell. 
It was warm, and dry, and dull.
	His eyes moved to the wreckage of the Hunter, the only thing of interest
anywhere nearby. It was obvious that the ship would never fly again. Chance 
hoped that Sandy was all right, and that they would be able to rig something so 
that she could be brought along when they left the wreckage behind. Even if they 
wouldn't be able to have her running, they could take the personality chips and
install them in their new ship (if they ever got one).
	Chance stood and stretched. Waiting was a pain in the thruster. He
needed to do something, so he decided to go back to the ship and see if he could
get Sandy up and running again. He started walking over across the field towards
the Hunter.
	<****>
	Chance swore as another burst of sparks showered over him from the
circuit boards in Sandy's voice synthesizer. According to all the tests he had
run, Sandy was still operational. The back-up power supply that kept her memory 
intact in case of a ship-wide power loss was still working, so Sandy was still
there. It was merely a matter of getting the broken connections back together.
	Another spark jumped out and hit Chance in the eye. He swore again, 
tried to get up, banged his head on the bottom of the console, and threw aside
the probes, swearing at anything and everything he could. He knew that he
wouldn't be able to get Sandy up again. He needed Dartan for that. Disgusted, he 
left the ship and headed back to the camp.
	<****>
	Chance woke up and stared up at the unfamiliar star patterns overhead. 
Was one of those stars his home? He didn't know. Despair was starting to set in, 
and he was almost ready to give up. He closed his eyes and sighed.
	There was a groan from the other side of the firepit. Chance sat up, 
looking over at his copilot. The Atrosian had sat up, and was holding a hand to 
his head.
	Chance stared. Hope returned to him. "Man, it's good to see you moving, 
Dart. How do you feel?"
	Dartan looked over at his friend. "Chance? Man, I feel like I've been 
hit by a truck. How long have I been out?"
	"About five days, as far as I know. There was a problem with the 
hyperjump we took to get away from Durant. He..."
	"Yeah, yeah, I remember. He shot and hit us just as the hyperfield 
formed around the ship. Then there was what felt like a big kick in the head, 
and then the next thing I remember, I'm here." Dartan paused and looked around 
slowly. "Chance, where the hell are we?"
	Chance shrugged. "I don't know, to be honest. I doubt we're even in our 
own universe. The energy mix really kicked our jump fairly hard. Sandy's off 
line, so I've just been sitting around, waiting for you to wake up."
	Dartan golden eyes widened. "How is the ship?"
	Chance held out a hand, "Calm down, buddy. The Hunter's never gonna fly 
again, but all the checks I've run say that Sandy's personality and memory chips 
are still intact, and the back up power we connected is keeping them fed. She'll 
be there tomorrow morning. Just get some rest, Dart. You need your strength. We 
can fix her later."
	Dartan relaxed, laying back down. His red scaled lids lowered over his 
gold eyes, and his two foot tail wentlimp. A few moments later,he was snoring.
	Chance smiled for the first time in days. Dartan always could drop off 
like that. He was definately getting better. Chance decided he had better follow 
his own advice and get some sleep. He lay back, and soon was snoring himself.
	The stars continued their dance overhead, keeping watch over the 
shipwrecked C-Runners.