A Single Drought

There were two last adjustments to be performed, then it would be finished. Jeremiah and Matthew went about them silently, listening to the quiet melody of whirring fans and the hum of electronics.

"What do you think about the red shift?" Matthew's question broke two hours of abstinence from speech. There had been little need for vocalization, both boys were experienced enough in the minute details of their work.

"Not going to make much difference at this range." Jeremiah's economical words were strung like a piano, acknowledging the underlying pressure in their situation. "It's insignificant, and the onboard navigator can compensate for it."

"I know. It's just... all over but the waiting. Did you ever think it would be like this? This desperate?" Matthew's voice was a contrast to his words.

"No." Jeremiah's tone hung like a solitary piece of cloth waving gently over a smoking field. "I never thought it would start, little brother. It was always just a scare story to me. Now... Now it's real, nothing I can dream of or pray for will change that."

A small, barely audible ping sounded from Jeremiah's console. He sighed, as though feeling the sadness of the last five years were upon him. He reached, engaged the field. The floor shuddered beneath them.




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