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Vernon is regretting directing his boss to buy this hunk of junk ostensibly known as a vehicle. Not very much, but a little. Mostly because she then made him drive it, and this is a finicky and temperamental beast that keeps listing to the left, but in amounts that change a bit on every single bump. They are driving through what is colloquially called 'the wasteland,' which is a desert about half as hospitable and twice as rocky as it sounds. He is having to adjust often. It's annoying. Not very, and honestly, having a functioning vehicle that is not potentially going to explode is a bit of a novelty for him, but enough that he will think fondly of that other vehicle boss-lady had been eyeing before he steered her this way. That sure would have been nice to drive. It would have been painting a gigantic target on their backs, but still. He can dream.
“You don’t have to tell me, I just… need to know what level of shit we’re getting into, here.” He glances at his boss, furiously doing math. “A plant engineer willing to leave their cushy ivory tower to help the little guy instead of just propping up the elites is… once in a lifetime, you know? One of mine, anyway, I don’t know about yours.”
He gets a sappy look on his face again. "I know. My wife is great, isn't she? I love her so much."
"Ahuh," he sighs, then raises his voice. "We're coming up on Jeneora Rock soon, try to wrap up anything you're in the middle of, if you can."
Jeneora Rock can barely be called a town, really. It owes its name to the huge rock it was built around—which, despite its precarious-looking condition, has stood tall since the town's founding decades ago—and it was made from the remains of one of the colony ships that mostly didn't make it a hundred and forty eight years ago, when humanity was first arriving on this planet and all of the ships were suddenly sabotaged at the same time. Most of its useful technology has been scavenged and brought to the bigger cities, but it somehow managed to retain two plants: one for water generation, and one for food. Both are vital to the survival of the people in the town, so if even one of them dies, they'll have to face the choice of dying with them or trying to go somewhere else.
It goes without saying that the kinds of people who live in a town this poor and small don't really have much means to go live somewhere else.
Jeneora Rock
Nobody officially stops them at the gates, but there sure are a lot of people now staring at them suspiciously as they find a place to park. At least he doesn't have to pay a damn toll for it, like in a city. It's just dirt (well, sand and rocks, really), they can in fact just park wherever is free and out of the way.
"All right, he who knows everyone here. Where are we heading to first? Diner?"
"I want at their plant I have ideas," mutters Yvette, still half buried in her equations, but bravely trying to extract herself.
Also, people start getting alarmed if strange folks show up and start asking where their plant is and if they can have a look at it, and sometimes those people are alarmed with lead. Good intentions are often rarer than water, these days. Or, really, any days on this godforsaken dustbowl they call a planet.
So, yes, diner first.
It's about the same as any eatery in a small town, which is to say, the minute people they don't know walk in, everyone turns and stares.
But of course, there is in fact one that is recognizable. The bartender (a pregnant and severe looking brunette) brightens from her worn scowl and calls, "ZASH! We didn't think we'd see you again, welcome back! Come on in, sit down."
"Rosa! A second one, is it?" he says, walking up to her and giving her pregnant belly a huge grin. "And how's the husband?"
"Did you! Good on you. And where's the first one? I haven't met them yet! —ah, sorry, I shouldn't be so impolite." He takes a step back to gesture at the other two. "This is Yvette, my lovely wife, and this is her uncle Vernon."
"Oh, Tonis is our resident worm catcher, he'll be by in a jiff to show off -- wife? You!?" Rosa sounds delighted. "I didn't know you could even flirt but -- oh she's gorgeous, I can see why you'd learn, hello my dear, it's a pleasure to meet you!"
Oh apparently it is being hugged time, that is what time it is. Uh? Okay. Sure. Also she thought the fake story was for people outside of the town?? Maybe there were conversations while she was in math land. (She is maybe still a little bit in math land.)
"Pleasure's all mine, hello, um, thank you it's, um. Um. Yes." She looks at Zash pleadingly. Help. Help her, please.
He grins even more widely and steps right beside her to take her hand into his own. "She's a plant engineer," he says in a stage whisper. "She's ridiculously intelligent and talented, I'm so lucky to have met her."
Rosa gasps.
"And so you got her to come here? Zash! Zash you shouldn't have, but we will absolutely not ever refuse, absolutely get your pretty brilliant wife to look at things!!"
It's not hard to tell that she's relieved.
"I -- honestly thought this would be much harder and that I'd need to show my credentials or, um, something."
"No, no, Zash himself fixed up one of our plants years ago, if he says you can do it I believe him!"
And also she really, really needs this to work.
"Oh, but I'm being a terrible host, aren't I, I'm sorry, you've come such a long way, would any of you like anything to drink? Maybe eat?"
"Whisky. Coppertop, I know you're a lightweight, but alcohol's safer, 'less you like having the runs."
"Oh. Right. Of course. .... No, no I stand by my decision, water please, and also ha wait here be right back."
And then out of the diner she goes and to her car, smirking.