Either way, I decided to trust her and took off.

I’d done my part, and I’d have to trust Bitch to complete the task.

Good luck, Rachel.

I was making more forward progress than Tattletale, though I could feel Atlas fatiguing.  It wasn’t the same as the fatigue I experienced, but he was slowing down fractionally in his wingbeats per second.

Ah, yeah, he’s been through quite a bit today.

It stood to reason.  He was big, and he hadn’t eaten since he was created.  That was compounded by the fact that he’d been going full-bore with minimal chance to rest.

Still, we had the advantage of being able to fly over obstacles, which was something I was gaining a greater appreciation of since I’d gotten the hang of flying him.

Man, where was Atlas in 12.5?

With Atlas being tired, not wanting to lose track of Tattletale, I kept our flight close to the ground.

“Where is she?” I called out, as I met her pace.

Any clues?

“Boat Graveyard.  Beached ship, she’s in the hold.”

Oh wait, they’re talking about Cherish, not Siberian.

“Coil told you this?”

“No, but he’ll forgive me for figuring it out, given circumstances.”

I’m pretty sure I knew this already (though I misremembered it as the Trainyard rather than the nearby Boat Graveyard), but if Taylor didn’t, I can’t recall why we do.

Maybe she just forgot.

“If you’re sure.”

It wasn’t a short trip.  Our destination was north of the market, and the market was a distance from my house.  We were making our way from downtown to the Boat Graveyard.

Yeah, that’s pretty far.

Oh hey, I forgot the Market was one of the waypoints that got erased on this version of Ridprime’s map. I suppose we’ll likely be traveling through the remains of that on the way to the Boat Graveyard.

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