Cid and Barret ruminated on those words.
Shera—she'll always be concerned about Cid, whether she lives, or returns to the planet, thought Barret. Same goes for Cid. And the same for me.
"Shera..." was all Cid said before falling silent.
After a short time passed, he opeend his mouth again. "Shera. How's the fuel?"
"Fine. It partly depends on your engine efficiency, but you should be able to fly once around the planet. More than enough for a test flight, I'd say, but what do you think?"
"The engine's not ready. Nothin's workin'. The end's nowhere in sight. Listen, Shera..."
"What is it?"
Cid had fallen silent. Barret chimed in despite himself.
"Cid just wants you to, to help out with the engine development. Kick his ass into shape, ya know? Just 'cause the fuel's all done—there's still heaps of work to do."
"I know." Shera looked at Cid. "I can't throw in the towel yet."
Barret needed to say more.
"And after you build the engine, there's still lots for you to do!"
Shera answered only with a smile.
The three of them looked up at the derrick in silence.
"Barret," said Cid. "Know about any oil fields?"
"You just leave it to me!" Barret had no more doubts. Hey, planet. Hey, all you lives that course through it. If you wanna punish me, you go ahead and do it. But I'm gonna fight back with all I got. The only ones who get to punish me are the folk who are still living. I'm gonna live, so the living have a tomorrow.
When Barret returned to his workshop, Old Man Sakaki held out a new prosthesis made just the way he'd ordered it. The hand was made of wood, and had a warm feel to it. It wasn't meant to fit an adaptor, but attached directly to the arm instead. Barret looked at the hand, then at the old man and said, "I still got journeyin' to do. I gotta find some land that yields oil. I may end up goin' places nobody else would dare enter, dangerous places. There's no tellin' what monsters I'll find. So I still need a weapon. And not just to defend myself. I'm not allowed to stop fightin'. If my fightin' means somebody else doesn't have to, then that's my calling. No, my penance."
After listening to Barret's uncharacteristically coherent words, Old Man Sakaki went into the back, and then returned with some sort of parcel. When he opened it, Barret saw a prosthesis inside with traces of rust upon it. It was an exquisitely made stell hand. Even the fingers looked like they moved.
"With practice, you could even write with it. How well you do depends entirely upon you."
"This..."
"...was to be a payment of sorts for helping my nephew. But since you don't seem to need it, I'll hold on to it."
"I'm sorry. You went through so much trouble to make it."
"No trouble. I made it for you years ago."
"Come pick it up when everything's over," the old man said. "I'll have the rust all polished off."
After leaving the workshop and walking a while, Barret thought, I shoulda written a letter to Marlene. Maybe I oughta call her, too. No. Once it's all over I'll come back here and write it with that hand the old guy made me. And I'll take that letter to Marlene myself. Barret wanted to scream. So, at his heart's behest, he did.
"I'm comin'!"