They Might Even Survive

“We've come too far to turn back now,” said Robbins, floating in mid-air, a hint of angst and peppermint in his voice.

He stared down at the ground below them. It was still there, which he took for a good sign. If the surface had yielded, he'd have had to make alternate arrangements. Robbins was trained for that possibility, knew the right tactical maneuvers, but hoped he wouldn't have to implement them any time soon or ever in his lifetime for that matter.

“Agreed,” said Steptoe, whose thin black mustache held firm even as everything around them fell apart. “What are our options?”

He was new at all this but possessed a surprising calm for one so untested. Where Robbins had training and experience, he only had the former. And yet, there was something about him... his resolve was every bit as firm as his mustache.

Robbins had noticed, and now that they were stuck in this situation together, he was glad for it. Better to lack experience than fortitude. He mulled Steptoe's question over in his mind. Options, yes... those would be good to have.

“The way I see it,” he said at last, “we can either continue forward or alter course. We could move to one side and try to go around.”

Steptoe nodded.

“There appears to be a weakness over there,” continued Robbins, pointing at a gap some 30 yards off to the right. “If we can hit it hard, we might be able to exploit that.”

Steptoe's eyes lit up. “Turn a weakness into a strength. Yes, I see!”

Robbins nodded. This one had brains, which was encouraging. With that and a fair amount of luck, they just might achieve their objective. Better still, they might even survive.