Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chert

Now that is innovation. Two twin flames exploding outwards, propelling the ship with such an immense force as to shake the rocks at my camp, even at this distance. The sun’s reflection glows off the hull of the ship like molten glass. The wind howls as its momentum carves the air. 

Slate really has made something beautiful—a glorious machine that could only use a little less tape, and a little more precaution from the pilot!

The hatchling currently in control of the strongest ship made to date, expectantly lacks the discipline to respect it. Earlier, I saw them clip a rock's edge, tumble, and correct before they could meet face to face with the ground—impressive, for sure, but if they were going slower that wouldn't have had to in the first place.

If I’m being honest, I’ve been hoping that new astronaut would pay me a visit. I remember those big curious eyes of theirs, whenever my lessons would delve into the theoreticals of space and time. I had fun answering their unending questions, and the pride I feel for them lifts my heart up, watching them head directly towards me, not slowing down … not slowing down at all! Oh, Stars above!

I lift my poor drums as a sacrificial shield, and throw myself behind the rock I was sitting on. The retro rockets blow at full force, cockpit tilting. One landing pad makes contact with the lip of my camp. The path here is thin and the ship is careening dangerously to the right, and I’m certain it’s going to tumble into the ravine below when it settles quite steadily in its position. 

I’m still sputtering when I hear the warble of Nomai technology as purple beams stretch outwards when the hatch is kicked open. The hatchling, disregarding the option to be gently lowered, blasts their jetpack on full, soaring up and into my camp, their acrobatics as casual as a walk in the fields.

“Goodness, hatchling!” I peek over my drums, “You sure -uh- landed there!” I wince, stuck between being upset at the risk and impressed at the skill. My first solo launch included a nervous slightly topsy-turvy landing, nowhere near to another hearthian's camp and I obsessively triple checked my ship for damages. The hatchling doesn’t spare the ship a second glance, oozing confidence that I don’t trust even a little bit. 

I never actually got to see their full suit—it was still being made when I left—but the improvements made are visible. It looks to hold about twice the oxygen, and that jetpack seems a lot hardier than my own. The hatchling wears it like a second skin, the bulky exterior doesn't slow them nor lessen their expressive gestures.

"Oh, yup. Wasn't that cool?" They kick a rock. 

Eclo is usually a creature of energy, boundless with their rambles. On their first solo launch I would expect my ears to fall off immediately, or that I’d have to coax them to lower the volume of their speakers—though that doesn’t seem to be the case. Eclo’s voice sounds hollow, it could be the echo from their helmet or the low distortion in the suit speaker.  

"Any faster and you would've crashed into my camp! I don’t know if I would classify risking decapitation as cool." There’s a shake in my laugh. Sweating beneath my helmet, I slowly straighten back up, set my rump back down on my previous seat, and roll my drum safely back to my side. 

"I didn’t decapitate you," Eclo huffs, hands twitching as they hover at the other side of the campfire, “don’t be dramatic”

Their shawl makes a lot of noise as they adjust it—it seems the space between the fabric and their helmet contains a mix-and-match of spare tech (wires, a battery pack, rolls of tape) and Nomai artifacts (the gleam of light on glass, old dusty stone). A miniature workshop contained precariously in worn fabric. I wonder why they don’t use an actual bag, it would be more efficient and less precarious- Wait. That’s so dangerous, they were piloting just a second ago! 

“Pardon? I think my reaction is comparatively tame if we imagined how anybody else would react.” I raise a finger—and a brow, though they can’t see it. “And I hope you weren’t piloting while having all that in your face,” I add swiftly, watching the hatchling with a discerning eye.

“Nope, Gabbro wouldn’t even blink. I think you’re settling for a six outta ten on the scale of anxious reactions to my piloting.” Eclo finds a seat in the sand next to me, crosses their legs, and dumps the contents of their shawl into their lap. 

“It’s unfair to use Gabbro in this,” I say, leaning over to look at the bundle. 

“I think it’s unfair to compare anyone to others in general,” Eclo rebukes, expression unseen behind the golden visor. I lower my gaze, losing the rhythm as they work with complete efficiency. Eclo has a bundle of four warp cores, the oldest I’ve seen, and they dismantle them like they were the one who made them. Popping open a panel on each triangular side, reshaping the ends of spare wires to fit in the various sockets—it’s incredible, and incredibly strange. 

“. . . What are you making ?” 

“It’s my nùfeḻenʌ kmun ,” Eclo notes with a casual tone, like it’s no big deal.

I blink. “Your what? ” 

Eclo pulling Nomai speech out of their sleeves like some kind of magic trick is a shock, they shrug, but I bet there’s a smug grin under that visor. “Perfected craft, masterpiece … all other synonyms for thing you worked on a long time for.” They twist a battery pack into their technological conglomerate. “ Nùfeḻenʌ is perfect, and kmun is craft, or creation.” I can hear their smile, and there’s so much delight in it, I can almost forget how hollow they sounded when they first got here.

“The word for their hatchlings is kmunḻo , it even sounds cute.” They coo, swaying their shoulders and looking to the ground. 

“Oh wow! …When did you learn how to pronounce all that? Or are you guessing?" I question, more curious than anything else. I only got glimpses when Hal and Eclo were working on the translator, I wouldn’t think they could figure out how the long dead language sounded like—but what do I know? I’m no linguist. 

"They have recorders in a couple places, I figured out a few words, but I … well, data is limited, there's only so much I can work with." 

I perk up, lightly tapping my drum as the premise swirls around in my head. That makes so much more sense, but it also opens up possibilities regarding accessing Nomai technology. "Recorders?! And the devices still have power to them? Remarkable … I wonder if it's possible, then, to date the recordings and learn how long ago the Nomai lived?" 

Hornfels once told me I speak more through my drums than my voice, the beat a reflection of my emotions, but I tend to disagree … I do a lot of talking. It’s the other way around, I quicken the beat, repetition keeps my head on course, the notes may be complicated to others but it certainly doesn’t feel that way to me. 

"Maybe." Eclo's voice still has evidence of a smile, but a sad sort of wistfulness breaks through. "It wouldn't hurt to try."

"Then … could you bring one of those recorders back home?" I ask, trying to tame the excitement, "I'd have to use Hornfels big computer, but I don't think they'll mind— I have to finish up these star charts first— Oh, I can't wait ."

"... Yeah, I can do that." Eclo fidgets, distracted. "That's— yeah— that’ll be cool."

"Do what you need to first, with whatever you are working on right now—I can see that you’re focused on it. Though I hope you're being safe—that hand you got doesn't need anymore explosions." Warp cores are hardy devices, from what I know it takes quite a lot to ruin the stability but … still possible.

"See, the difference is that Slate was stupid . You underestimate how many explosions this hand has already been through." Eclo bounces back just to defend themself, shoulders rising again.

"I surely hope only two," I balk, squinting at Eclo, then their gloved hands.

"I've lost count." I do not like the pride in their voice.

"Hatchling …" I can only hope they’re being dramatic again. I guess if they were in any pain right now they wouldn't be able to move with such dexterity.

"I'm still in working order! I'm built like a Redwood—bend never break," they force out quickly, confidently, just as stubborn and unmoving as a tree trunk.

"Redwoods are highly flammable," I comment.

"Bend never break," Eclo repeats, twisting two of the cores together from the topmost point. The white spheres inside were getting dimmer, but upon the connection burst again with light, while the miniature black holes grew slightly in size. Wait. It’s hard to notice through the gloves, maybe that’s why it took me so long to notice.

"Your hands are shaking," I murmur, quieter and gently. I don’t want to chase Eclo off if I broach into something they don’t want me to know about. They’ve been ringing alarm bells in my head since they landed, but they perked up quick enough I didn’t mention anything. 

"Mh?" Humour drains from their voice, they offer no acknowledgement past that short hum. I feel I’ve crossed a line.

There's a shift in the air. I recognize it as the gravitational warp before the sand begins to transfer. Eclo deflates, a shaky, heavy inhale follows.

Oh, I understand now. They're scared of that .

"It's not anything to worry about if you are careful," I note, reaching to place my hand on their arm, comforting them hopefully. "It's a gravitational anomaly, yes, but a completely normal and natural anomaly, I assure you there's not much to worry about." 

"... Thanks, that's— thank you." They twist a roll of tape between two fingers, before bundling all the loose wires and bunching it all up around the middle of the device. It looks like an overcomplicated hourglass, but the exorbitant amount of tape they are wrapping it up with is making the silhouette less clear.

"That's quite a lot of tape," I worry, biting my cheek.

"Well … safety, you know?" 

That’s not quite right. Eclo’s concern for safety is only partially greater than Slate’s.

"I wouldn't ever argue against safety, but you still haven't told me what this is in the first place, other than your n … nufelena kmun ." The strange sounds of the Nomai language aren’t easy things to reproduce when I've only heard it once, but I try. I want to make Eclo laugh, to ease the anxiety that seems to be hovering over them.

Eclo snorts, but it's nearly humourless. It takes a moment for them to reply, the hissing of tape is the only thing audible aside from the sand. 

"How about … " They turn to me eventually. "How about I tell you all about this when we all report back home."

"You can't tell me now?" My head tilts, with the limited movement of these suits I’ve gotten used to exaggerating any body language, meaning I’m feeling particularly lopsided currently.

"No— no then it would ruin the bonfire story, I don't want you to get spoiled on the mystery." Something about that sounds like a lie, the quiet voice and stuttering tells me there's more to this than a spoiled mystery.

I pause, tapping the edge of my drum like a ticking clock. "Hmm.” I don't see a reason to argue with that.” I don't think I should push for the truth if Eclo isn't willing to say it. Gossan would do better on comforting them, or Hornfels—I very simply do not have enough information right now, maybe someone else does. Or will.  “Alright, I'll wait.”

The sand pillar makes one full rotation, we both watch it. 

"I'm excited to learn about all your misadventures when you're ready." I allow no strict timelines to exist in my speech; Eclo’s shoulders look heavy with a pressure I can’t see, and I have a feeling I really really shouldn’t add any more to it. 

"..." Eclo sets their apparently finished trinket down in their lap, not turning towards me. There's a shaky murmur that I almost miss. "Thank you for teaching me so much."

"What?" The sincerity takes me by surprise. I turn to them, wishing I could read their expression, find a clue for the sudden change. This conversation is making me feel more and more unprepared.

"I want to tell you that I'm grateful for all you've done," Eclo continues louder, but no less wobbly. "For clearing up Hornfels complicated lessons, for helping me when I got scared or— or when I was too much. It did help, it did— and I don't think I ever thanked you."

"Oh, oh— I was just doing my job, it's okay, but I appreciate it." I shift uncomfortably. It feels nice to be noticed, better to be appreciated, but I’m uneasy. This doesn’t feel right. I don't quite know what caused the sudden emotions, though I theorize their first launch is leading them to reminisce. I was expecting uncontained hyper activity—maybe that's a shallow understanding of who Eclo is. 

With no other words exchanged, I return to Travellers , playing the backdrop to a song where all other participants are scattered across a solar system. I cannot hear my accompanies, but I imagine the music nonetheless, it makes all this feel a lot less lonely. Maybe it's just as comforting to Eclo as it is for me.

Heavy breaths shake, and then choke. Eclo’s shoulders bunch up and shudder. I freeze.

"I have to go soon." They're crying. "It— thank you for talking to me, I—"

My hand is on their arm again—it’s all I can offer, my words have dried up in my throat. 

"You've been a great mentor, an a-amazing friend— you're so smart— and you've been so kind— and—"

Eclo turns to me. I'm practically picked up, with their arms wrapping tight, the hug encasing me with my helmet smushed against their chest. Stunned, it takes me a moment to return the embrace. They squeeze tight, the kind of hold that's desperate. The kind of hold that fears what comes next.

"Hey … hey— it's— it's okay?" I feel like I'm spinning in zero gravity with nothing to stop myself. Eclo has thrown me into a loop. Fear isn't a stranger to the hatchling—I've witnessed it—but this is different. It isn’t anywhere similar to Riebeck's fear, either. "What do you mean …? You have to go soon?"

Eclo shakes more than ever, voice breaking as they whisper to me like a secret unearthed too soon. They don't answer my question. Instead, what they say next is worse than any answer they could've given me—"What you learn, please don't be afraid." 

"Eclo—?" My chest goes cold, I grapple onto their suit. "What do you mean?"

I don't see it, but the sand pillar does another full rotation. Eclo rips away from me, my hands left in open air as three long strides take them away. It wasn't the sand they were afraid of.

I feel a sudden pressure of a timer resting on my shoulders, familiar but undefinable. There's something that will happen, it is not good, I have no idea what it could be.

"Hey, wait—what are you talking about?!" Fear, worry, concern, all of it blended into my tone, my still reaching hands.

"Sorry, sorry, trust me for now— I'm— I'm going to do my best, and repay you for all you've done— all everyone has ever done for me— I promise."

Eclo's cries are smiling. It scares me. All of this scares me. I'm watching someone fall apart and they are running from me.

"Eclo— Eclo slow down!" It doesn't matter, they burst away with a boost from the jetpack. I don't have mine on, and I've never once won in a chase.

Eclo slides effortlessly under one of the landing gears. The gravity rings capture their momentum and lift them up until the hatch snaps shut under their feet. I duck as flames lick the air around me. 

The heat doesn’t last long. It takes only a few seconds for the engine to propel the ship up and away. Wind wraps the hull as it cuts past the atmosphere and breaks through not much long after. Twisting through the space between the Ash Twin, dancing alongside the sand column with an ease that matches Feldspar's skill.

I’m left in silence, for a moment, standing there with nothing but dread as my new companion. Watching, unmoving, as Eclo's ship disappears over to the Ash Twin. The sun peeks behind me. Vicious heat bathes my camp in an unbelievably bright golden glow.

With utmost certainty I’m aware all at once.

I should be remembering something.

Chapter Text

Hornfels

The paper is aged, and risks being torn if those with fidgeting hands find it which is why I’ve left it on the table. Excitement still grips me even after all this time, a little more dull now and almost outweighed by the nerves of it all. Eclo’s first solo launch -the little mini-Feldspar - the thought twists my gut uncomfortably with the bitter mixture of joy and that old monster grief. 

I miss them, it’s been years, and there’s still a part of myself that went missing with them. Every launch becomes the rumbling coaxing of reminiscing. Slate’s new engine types sound vastly different from the crackling roar of Feldspar’s ship and they never admitted it, but I think that  was purposeful beyond the provided ‘ it’s got more power, I don’t know what answer you want out of me, Fels,’. 

Conditions are good- great actually- the breeze is light and cool, ruffling the fabric of the observatory dome. No clouds, full visibility, systems are all operable and there’s no more finding reasons to adjust the date. 

It was the two of us last night, checking and double checking the radio. Gossan’s nerves are hidden beneath the constant movement of their hands, the breaks between conversations where they blink up at the night sky, and of course their bad humour. We drank only one mug. Neither of us felt comfortable risking the morning to a headache, and we laughed, remembered, and said nothing towards the fear we were both feeling.  

Soon, real soon, after (rounded up) five years of training Eclo will be the first new astronaut to launch without Feldspar cheering them on. The youngest ever, and that’s certainly something to worry about. 

I wrap my hand to soak up the warm from my mug of tea, forcing my shoulders to relax as the open roof allows the gentle morning breeze to greet me- and my stacks of paper- which I have long ago figured to way down with rocks or to pin up on the wall. I’ve suggested to Slate to replace fabric with metal, but ‘I’ll get to it’ means I have a while to go before I can stop needing to cover everything with plastic when it rains. 

A scream, loud and young and most definitely not the new astronaut grows with such velocity I brace myself for some kind of explosion. Which does not happen, but I do get two hands grabbing my arm and shaking me with such violence my tea certainly does not stay in the mug.

“Hal?!” I gasp, looking over the hatchling in an instant for anything amiss, but instead I’m met with the biggest, sparkling set of four eyes I have ever seen and a smile that stretches from ear to ear.

“The!” Hal starts and does not finish, stumbling with words and sounds, and pointing all the while down the stairs.

“The?!” I ask, confused, but seeing that it isn't some terrible disaster I’m able to lean as much as I can in Hal’s pushing grip to set my mug down before the rest of my tea is spilt. 

Hal finds the words thankfully, exclaiming “The statue’s eyes are open!”. The next tug from them I follow. I have to reorient Hal before they fall down the stairs backwards, but soon we’re both rushing down two steps at a time.

“It’s open?! Why? What happened?” I ask, thoughts brewing instantly. Hal is faster than me, they grab the last pole of the railing using it to shift their downward momentum into turning and they continue to rush at the same speed towards the room where the statue is in.

“I don’t know!” Hal calls from a good few steps ahead as I turn with much less enthusiastic velocity towards the statue. Not that I’m not excited, I am, but I also don’t have very athletic knees. 

“I walked in and they were open!” Hal’s already at the statue, and to my discontent is pressing their ear right up to it, “I hear electricity!”

“Be careful!” I chastise, catching up and pulling Hal away. “Your super hearing doesn’t mean you can risk knocking it over- or getting electrocuted!” Slate would boo at me for saying that, but I’d prefer not to sacrifice my pupil for scientific discovery. 

Hal doesn’t look at all sheepish, instead they are proud and beaming with awe. I realize this must be their first major discovery all (mostly) on their own. “So, you didn’t see the eyes open?” I frown, looking up at the statue which is now looking out towards the door. Spooky. 

“No, they were open when I got here,” Hal clarifies, “But it’s on , after how many years?! It turns on! Why?” 

“I have a feeling that mystery might be answered with that translator of yours,” I note, chest warm with pride towards the little inventor. 

The reminder of what today is has Hal bouncing on their heels. “Oh, when Eclo sees this they are going to scream,” 

Then, with the taste of betrayal blooming, that not-so-familiar roar of a ship taking off sends vibrations out throughout the village. Hal darts outside, and I follow as we see the tail end of the launch. Eclo’s ship pushes through the atmosphere, practically glowing, and vanishing soon after over the horizon.    

“Oh,” Hal frowns, ears a-droop. 

“Ah,” I echo, watching as Hal’s overflowing excitement gets stifled by their friend’s departure. “How did they get the launch codes?” Asking the questions aloud allows Hal to fess up, but the disappointment in their face tells me that they maybe weren’t a part of Eclo’s escapade. 

“I don’t know, I thought they were going to say goodbye at least,” Hal murmurs, and I recognize the hurt, as familiar and potent as it was for me whenever my friends did something especially stupid in our teenage years.  

“Well,” I rest a hand on their shoulder, “Let’s just see what we can learn from the statue, you can tell Eclo about it when they come back,” After of course they are grounded for a few days. This stunt is predictable, fits perfectly in Eclo’s book of ‘doing whatever I want’ but they still will face consequences for following it. 

Hal nods, taking in a deep breath to respark that curiosity Eclo almost fizzled out, and turns. Before I follow, Gossan steps out from the mouth of the mines a distance away, looking up at the bare sky, then soon after at me. I can hear the question they aren’t saying. Nodding, I hope they can hear the answer I’m not saying before I turn back inside the museum. 

Wood creaks with my steps, Hal is leaning as close to the statue as they are allowed to, the damped energy of a youngin dealing with the natural growing pains of friendship strain last only about a few seconds because we are again reminded about what we really should be paying attention to. 

A click, somehow sounding ancient and magical, sounds off before the three eyes begin to close with the grating sound of stone against stone. 

“WHAT?!” Hal steps back to crane their neck getting the full view of the statue, bumping into me and I once again have to grab their shoulders to keep them steady. I don’t drop my hands as we both stand there frozen, silent, watching and waiting.

The eyes close with a groan, and then after a minute of nothing happening, and nothing exploding, Hal does instead.

Bursting from my grip, gesturing at the statue like for some reason I wouldn’t be looking at it. “What does that even MEAN ?!” Angst forgotten apparently, and thankfully. 

“Stars above,” I murmur, hand to my mouth. I don’t have a single answer for Hal, but they continue on as if I did.

“So it turned on and off? But why! What did it do while it was on? Did it do anything at all? Did we do something to trigger this?” Hal rapid fires questions into the air, verbally writing down what will be our next few weeks of study, “Ough-” Hal winces “-I think I’m going to hurl,”

“Don’t.” I stress, “Not in the museum.”

“I’m not- I’m not,” Hal’s overenthusiasm consequently means they are prone to stomach aches that usually doesn’t lead to anything other than a few complaints from them, except for that one time , and I don’t want a repeat, at all. 

“What’s so exciting?” Gossan approaches from behind, having followed me after all.

“The-” Hal takes a deep inhale “-the statue,” They gesture, wiggling their hand at it.

“I don’t see a difference,” 

I give Hal some mercy, or maybe it’s impatience as Hal struggles to formulate words again. “The eyes were open, Gos, then we saw them close,”  I explain as I take a side step to allow the coach to stand in front.

“Oh, really?” Gossan’s curiosity peaked, hands rested on their hips. “What’s your theory?” 

“I think-!” Hal jumps up to interrupt, “It has something to do with Gabbro!” 

“Gabbro?” Gossan questions now looking at Hal.

“Why do you think that?” I continue.

“Because there’s no way anything here could’ve triggered it to turn on, you looked for weeks and you didn’t find anything!” Hal swings a hand towards me for emphasis, I nod. “I think there’s something on Giant’s Deep that controls this statue, and Gabbro found it,” 

“Why don’t you radio them and ask?” Gossan suggests, already walking towards the entranceway to the rest of the museum. 

“But, we need someone to stay here in case it happens again!” Hal shifts, reluctant to leave, but fighting the urge to go ask Gabbro five hundred questions. I sense an opportunity to talk to Gossan alone.

“Why don’t you go talk to Gabbro, and we can stay here,” Hal has operated the radio unsupervised less times than I can count on both hands, they of course pounce at the option. 

“Okay!” Hal weaves between us, “You’ll get me if something happens?”

“Without a doubt,” 

We watch Hal rush off, the rapid sound of footsteps climbing the stairs, I keep the smile on my face up until I hear them start working the radio frequency. 

“Eclo stole the launch codes,” I start, watching Gossan drop their casual grin. “Last night, or I don’t know when, but they didn’t get it from me,”

“Really?” Disappointed, Gossan sighs, “That’s why they didn’t visit me, probably didn’t want to risk getting caught,” They roll a sore shoulder, always seeming in some state of pain since the accident- or maybe it’s age catching up and I’ll be next soon.

“What do you think we should do?” I murmur, though I know what I would like to do.

“Just.. just leave it,” They say it like they’re unsure of it, chewing the idea of actual discipline in their mind like a bitter cane. 

“Leave it?” Gossan’s words don’t surprise me, but I frown nonetheless. Looking at them with squinted eyes, “are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Gossan nods, now more certain of the answer. “I want to encourage their independence, not stifle it,”

“Is it independence or a tendency to ignore rules? …That could be dangerous when it really matters,” There’s been times Eclo would ignore what I tell them, or what anybody tells them in order to pursue their own ideals. It’s bitterly familiar, and I wish it didn’t sting each time it happens.

“When it really matters they’ll make the right decision,” I fight the urge to roll my eyes, Gossan sounds so confident, and the pride in their tone only makes me worry further over the hatchling’s behaviour.

“How can you be so sure?” I blurted before I could think much better. Gossan made their decision right then and there. A boulder would be easier to move than Gossan, that stubbornness is a double edged knife.

Gossan looks at me like I’m forgetting something. I’m not. It took one bad crash for Gossan to trust Eclo implicitly, and I have never agreed with it. I never saw that moment as confirmation of sudden maturity and skill, the hatchling did amazing, and recovered swiftly from what I saw, but since then their impulsive behaviour was only encouraged by Gossan, despite the coach going after Slate for the same thing. 

It’s obvious to everyone, but Gossan. They are letting the hatchling do whatever they want because of some misplaced guilt.

“Because I trust them,” Gossan huffs, crossing their arms and looking like they are ready to argue, but are refusing to start it. Allowing me to dig my grave so they can finish the job. “I wish you'd have more faith in them,” they say, tone sour. 

“..I can’t help, but be worried,” I note, breaking eye contact to look at the currently unmoving statue instead. I do trust the hatchling, why does Gossan always have to make it an insult whenever I suggest caution towards recklessness. What’s the difference between Riebeck’s fear and Eclo’s attitude- both are traits to overcome, not deny the existence of. 

“...I understand,” Gossan’s voice lightens, and sighs, releasing tension. “I believe it’ll be alright, they’ve trained hard for this,” Their arms drop, and I feel the three eyes on me move away, I still don’t look back.

“Hopefully that will pay off,” I note, biting my cheek. The anxiety from earlier creeps up like a stubborn weed. I always feel it under my skin, with a pressure constantly reminding me of all that could possibly go wrong, and my responsibility to take care of it. 

“It will,” Gossan’s confidence has always been contagious, they act with such certainty that you’re included to follow. I wanted that confidence when I was younger, and when I realized I was going to die. I grew more content with seeking out that stability from Gossan than trying to emulate it.  

Allowing a smile, I begin talking again, about whatever I could think of. Gossan’s interest in the statue doesn’t compare to mine, or Hal’s, but they're a good listener and we both don’t want to dwell on the previous topic, after all there isn’t a lot of time left. When I’m done talking about the statue I ask them about their plans, the day, the weather we might be having once the wind jet from the geysers does its annual turn towards us. I laugh, and connect the weather pattern to the explosion in the distance, how we know it’s coming but never seem to understand exactly when. We laugh, hug, cry, grieve and everything to ever exist stops and rewinds.

◈

Allowing a smile- I stop.

“What?” The memories -I think they were memories- vanish. Mirages, echoes of something I can’t grasp. I’m lost, like a misplaced paper or a forgotten word. I twist to look for- I don’t know what I’m looking for. 

The papers nailed to the wall flutter with the breeze, it smells of pine, dirt, and the cleaning solution I used to clean last night.  The floorboard creaks under my shoes, and I hear the muffled conversation Hal is having on the radio, I can’t make out the words. This is all normal, and for some reason it makes my heart miss a beat.

“What is it?” Gossan raises an eyebrow at me, no longer wearing an expression like- like?

I rub my temples, squeezing my eyes closed. Gossan places a hand on my arm, steadying me.

“Headache?” They ask with blooming concern, and that… that makes sense, but doesn’t seem right, do I have any other explanation?.

“Yeah,” I groan, wishing my tea wasn’t up the stairs, and mostly on the floor. That might soak through, I should’ve cleaned it before coming down here, whenever that occurred.. It’s strange, the sense of when has gotten blurry. My tongue feels unfamiliar in my mouth, why do I feel like I should be asking a different question? I mumble “I feel like I’m forgetting something.”

“..Weird,” Gossan pauses, looking up at me while I find a wall to lean against. I’m massaging the side of my head when they mumbles “me too,”

“Ugh,” I half-groan half-laugh, uncomfortable and uncertain, but I’m amused by my next thought, like it’s something new and it’s much better to laugh than stay in this strange sense of wrongness “I think we’re getting old.”

Gossan chuckles, relaxing against the wall opposite to me and setting the spare helmet down “We’re already old, we got old the moment we started with the mid-day naps.”

“Ooh,” I hum, blanketed by the image of a nap in the sun, woes forgotten, “I would love a nap right now,” 

“You could, I’ll stay here with Hal,” Gossan offers, a hero. 

“Yeah?” I test, lowering a hand to look at them.

“Mhm, it’s not a problem,” They shrug, a soft lopsided grin of pure ease. I allow myself to relax, and let the dimming confusion part ways with me.  

I peel myself off the wall, straightening my vest. I can picture my bed, and how wonderful it will be with the warm sun. Whatever just happened, and the Nomai statue mystery can wait for thirty minutes, nothing will explode during that time. Missing out may give me a little heartache, as it does over the fact I didn’t get to see the statue opening its eyes in the first place, but a good bask is calling to me.

From the top of the staircase, Hal calls out loud enough for us to hear. “Hornfels, Chert wants to talk to you,” Oh, so it’s going to be like that, then.

“Is this a Hornfels specific situation or can I handle it?” Gossan calls back up, walking deeper into the museum. 

“Uhm- I’ll go ask,” Hal patters away, followed by the hum of the radio again. 

We share a look, I eye the exit longingly. Shying away from work isn’t exactly my thing, and it always makes the nap worse if I have something that needs to be done, but if Chert just wants a check in then Gossan can handle it.

“Chert says it’s a Hornfels issue!”

Damnit.  

“Bad luck,” Gossan sighs sympathetically, patting me on my arm as I pass. 

When I get to the top of the stairs Hal is back at the radio, looking at me expectantly, but I don’t miss the dejected droop of their ears “Gabbro didn’t have a lot to say.”

“Oh?” I drift nearer, a perked brow.

“Well, they said a lot actually, just not anything about the statue. I don’t know they seemed out of it,” Hal grabs the notebook they left on the desk, putting it away in their pocket.

“In a worrying way or a Gabbro way?” I push, not willing to let Hal’s disappointment get in the way of helping Gabbro as it so often does.

“A Gabbro way,” Hal answers, confident enough that I don’t think they’re mistaken.

“Ah, okay,” I shrug, “give them some time, we’ll ask again later.”

Hal steps back and I take their place, Chert’s radio connection already secured, good job Hal. I unmute and speak “Morning, Chert,” I greet, “Or, almost afternoon,” It’s always bright as day on the ember twin, and I know Chert sometimes struggles with the lack of a night, they usually call just to figure out what time it is “What do you need?”

“I-” Comes the delayed response, crackling with the great distance between us and edged with tension “-had a visit from the hatchling,” 

Hal glances at me, I keep my gaze on the screen, it doesn’t really have anything important for me to be looking at. Hesitating, I ask “and how did that go?” 

“S-” Interference interrupts Chert, an agitating shrill that stings my head and makes Hal cover their ears. I can barely hear their voice under the noise until it peters off at the end of their sentence “-wrong”

“What was that?” I rub underneath my ear, one hand still on the unmute button. Unease doesn’t take it’s time to grow in my bones. More reasons than fingers on my hand could cause radio interruptions like that, most are bad, all are annoying to fix.

Hal mouths ‘should I get Gossan’ or something along those lines, I’m assuming based off of the following point they jab towards the stairs. I nod, continuing “There was interference. I didn't hear you.”

“Wh- Zrt -t?” The static is a windstorm through the speakers, Chert’s voice nearly consumed by it. 

“Can you hear me?” I ask leaning closer to the microphone as if that would help, “Chert?” Hal hurries down the stairs again, pausing as I hear a near-tumble, but no disaster follows. 

There’s a voice behind the garbling noise, overrun and incomprehensible, though I swear I hear a choked cry underneath the static. Something about the sun.

“The sun? What do you mean? Chert?” I feel my skin prickle with anxiety now, I’m double and triple checking our connection, and there’s no error messages, no bent wire. A solar flare? The cold fear of it has me moving faster than ever to get a view of the sun. The low altitude probe isn’t advanced enough to capture much more than blurry photos, so I reach for the three large levers to adjust the angle of the telescope.

Each lever clicks without complaint, the image on my screen a few seconds behind as the telescope moves with a low groan, chains clicking along with it. We were considering putting a probe in near orbit around the twins to read data from the sun so we could get a proper warning now that we have so many travellers out and about, but we decided . . . 

We decided what? Why is Chert on the twins again? No matter how I dig through my mind I can’t recall the reason, what in hearth’s name is going on with me? 

The sun, a bold grey sphere blotched with the boiling liquid of unimaginable heat, is placed directly in the middle of my view, surrounded by stars. I zoom in, watching the edges of the sun crackle.

Something invisible rushes through me, and everything screams.

In a blink, it all crashes. I flinch back, the screens glitching out and dying before I can take my next breath. Followed in quick succession the heavy clunk of the observatory generator shutting down, then distantly the rest. Our lights buzz one last time before they too die with every other electrical device. 

My fingers drag down my face, pulling my eyelids. Damnit. Damnit. The stress compounds with the outage, my ability to help, our communication functions- all that is lost to the silence. Silence that feels misplaced, and unwanted, like a pest that’s far too clever to get rid of, stealing our peace 

That time passes slowly, demanding dread to follow with it. How much have we lost? Can we fix it before it’s too late? We’re risking the safety of our astronauts, and that is a fear I can’t quell.

I’m rooted here, if I leave to help restart the generators I risk missing transmissions when power is back. It may just be a minute of lost words, but that could be the difference between someone coming home alive, or being a retrieval mission. A nightmare I never want to experience, I refuse to give any chances to that becoming a reality. 

That doesn’t mean I can’t do anything. The telescope can function without electricity, and under emergencies the pulley system lets me adjust its position. I should be able to see it if there’s any more solar activity, I’ll be able to warn the people here at least. 

The eyepiece moves smoothly as I drag it down, aligning it to my sightline. I close my lower eyes, adjusting dials to clear the mirrored image to me. 

There’s the sun, a bright bubbling yellow instead of the greyscale from the screen. A minuscule of relief allows me a breath, a hope that it was a singular event. It takes effort to turn the huge dial that adjusts the magnification, pulling back from the sun, the twins coming into view, maybe I can see if- 

A flash- a wave- destruction.

Space deafens an explosion so massive it consumes an entire planet. From the core of Ash Twin expands a bright white sphere- then condenses, and then chaos. 

A cry lodges itself in my throat and suffocates me, the Ash Twin turning to dust and rubble as sand, structures, and rock are thrown outwards into space- and directly into its sibling. Directly to- crashing into- 

Oh, stars above, Chert .

The electricity returns with a cackle, my radio a screech of static that sounds so much like disconnection and death. Chert’s last words ringing in my head like a gong, something’s wrong, something’s wrong, something’s wrong. 

“The generator wasn’t damaged from what I could tell, I’m thinking it was an overloading of-” Gossan's voice behind me sounds miles away, I nearly stumble stepping back. 

I turn, meeting their gaze as they reach the top of the stairs. Horror finds itself company in the both of us, Gossan’s face dropping. My throat closes tight enough to choke, for the first time in nearly five years I face Gossan again, forced to speak the unspeakable

“What’s wrong?” They ask, seriousness as potent as the stench of jet fumes, “Hornfels?” 

Chapter Text

Gossan

The metal of the telescope’s eyepiece is cold, scratching against my skin. No need to close an eye you don’t have, but the muscles twitch anyway. The cold passes through me, cursing me, turning my feet to stone. Ash twin is shattered, creating a shield of debris flying around its sibling. The field stretches far, mostly sand, but poking through and moving at great speeds I can recognize the broken pieces of Ash Twin’s Nomai structures.

Pieces of Ash Twin’s core spins and collides with more debris, an active grinder, a death trap for ships. The sun bubbles, arms of liquid flame reaching out as the sun eats up all that didn’t get caught in or around Ember Twin, the rest to become hazards in open space.

Please. I beg, paralyzed. Please, let me move . 

“What-” Hornfels chokes, voice shaking as much as the hands pressed over their mouth, “What do we do?” The question is asked with such drowning sorrow it could pull me under and I’ll get stuck alongside their shock. Every bone in my body is screaming that it’s already far, far too late. 

How would they feel to know I gave up on them before I even bothered to try? 

I’m skidding to a stop at the far computer moving before I had a chance to think about it. My hands are cold as they fly across the keyboard and slam the power button. The start-up felt slow before, but this is agonizing, each of the three screens turning on individually, beeping obnoxiously as the fan whirrs to life, my urgency buzzing in my limbs.

“Gossan?” Hornfels croaks, floor creaking with the singular step they manage to take.

“Get on the radio, Hornfels.” My own voice strains against my throat, “We can’t-” the home screen appears, as cluttered as it always is, “-waste any time.” 

Without looking behind me as Hornfels unsticks whatever keeps them glued to the floor, I open the tracking program, shifting through rapidly until I land on SHIP:LOCATOR. Two options pop up, and I select the one that matters.

-----------------------

One by one, the names appear. 

Loading slowly, the circle chasing its own tail. 

The program is built to find the location of all active ships simultaneously. This was a missight. 

If I could target a singular ship, the time would halve. 

Why didn’t we do that? Why didn’t we? Why are we so unprepared?

Every second that passes, those little dots appearing and vanishing, makes me feel like I’ve condemned Chert. I hear Hornfels try and try again, voice pitching with anxiety as they demand an answer out of a fried radio. I block it out. 

Then, finally. No noise to triumph the connection, no fanfare. 

It updates

Again.

And again, against the orbit, flying to us —towards home. 

“They’re alive! They’re- They’re moving, they’re on their ship!” I shout, relief shooting through me like a lightning strike. “Try their radio again- Try-” 

The air vanishes from my lungs, everything freezes, everything falls apart. Relief torn apart and replaced by vicious, ruthless terror. 

Underneath the Inactive Ships tab, organized out of sight and out of mind lies a similar text. Haunting us, haunting me, and hinting at another’s fate. 

Hornfels says something I can’t hear, blood rushing to my ears and there’s no preparation to combat this kind of fear. 

“Eclo-!” The radio screams, Chert is too close to the microphone. My ears ring. There’s a blaring alarm in the background threatening to overtake Chert’s voice. “Eclo was on-! Eclo went- The Ash twin- I-!” 

I close my eyes. 

“Chert-” Hornfels heaves, “Chert, breathe,” Hornfels sounds at the edge of hyperventilation themself. 

I pour out every bit of myself that’s a screaming, writhing thing, and open my eyes. 

I’m crossing the distance, leaving a part of myself at that screen. I’m nudging Hornfels away from the microphone. “Listen,” I start, sharp and serious and logical and not so whole. Dialing through the options on what to say and each feels worse than the last.

Eclo’s ship could be damaged, if not destroyed, and since Chert is the closest one there, they would have the highest potential to rescue them if only Chert’s ship wasn’t broken. The alarm currently blaring through their microphone is triggered by damage that could turn critical and needs immediate attention. 

It’s a choice. Risk Chert’s life to save one that we don’t know is alive, or protect Chert and abandon the hatchling on their first solo flight . 

“They aren’t dead.” I grind my teeth, willing every part of myself that still has energy to believe it. Then, the moment I do, I betray it, carving out my heart as I say, “Get away from there, I don’t know what damage you have but if it’s enough to set the alarm off then I can’t have you risking ship failure when nearing that debris field.” 

“I can help,” Chert forces out desperately, harsh breath grating against the microphone.

“Are- are you sure Eclo was at the Ash Twin when the-” Hornfels gulps, hesitant to ask the question, afraid of the answer, “-explosion went off?”

“I- No- No, I didn’t see them land, but they flew towards it- but it happened so fast- I think if they didn’t land they- they would’ve gotten caught in the blast.” 

Hope albeit weak and flickering burns in me, contradicting rationality, but I cling with everything I have.

“Even without the damages, you have a single-engine ship. You’re an incredibly skilled pilot, but taking another chance at dodging shards flying at who-knows- what speed isn’t feasible, and you know that.” 

Chert stammers the beginnings of crackled, strained protests, and I snap before they can get a full word out, “It matters that you get home safe.” 

My teeth clatter shut, words hanging in the air long enough for their importance to sink in. Each inhale I take feels like breaching the water’s surface then plummeting again. 

“I’m sending someone else to search the rubble. Go to the outpost, or do a spacewalk to repair if you believe it’s possible, but do not approach the Twins.” Barking orders feels heavy, the weight of the decision on my shoulders, building pressure – I feel my nerves boil with the threat of one single mistake. 

“I’m the closest one here!” Chert doesn’t listen easily, teeth chattering. “You can’t make me leave when- when I should’ve stopped them from leaving in the first place!”

That strikes me as confusing. “Did you know it was going to explode?” Stars above I hope not, it doesn’t make sense, but if Chert knew-

“No! But- They did! At- At least I think, they were telling me- they said to ‘not be afraid of what I learn-’ I didn’t understand, but-”

“They knew?!” Hornfels break their silence, and they take space next to me, shoulders pressing as they lean towards the mic. “What in Hearth’s name is going on, Chert?!”

“I don’t know!” they shout, wobbly and distressed, repeating, “I don’t know! I don’t know!”

Reel back, get a grip on this, don’t let them sink. I grab Hornfels’ arm to stop them before they drive Chert further into a panic. “You need to prioritize yourself right now. Don’t worry about them and let me handle this, but I can’t while I’m trying to get you safe, do you understand?” 

There’s a quiet shaky inhale from the radio, “I need to help.”

“And you will,” I promise, “once you and your ship are safe.”

What I don’t say, what I try to not think about, is that no matter if I send them now or someone else later, there might not be anything there to save.  

“Okay… okay.” Chert sounds defeated, exhaustion winning out against fear. 

My gut ties itself into knots, my doubt unwanted but a struggle to ignore. I say anyways, “It’ll be okay. We’ll keep you updated.”

Hovering my hand over the frequency dial, I finally twist it, watching the numbers shift on the display until it aligns with Gabbro’s suit radio.

“Gabbro, do you copy? This is an emergency.” I lean a bit too close to the microphone, my finger getting sore from how long I’ve been holding the unmute button. 

The static says nothing at all.

“Do you copy?” Agitation bleeds easily into my voice. Gabbro's tendency to ignore the radio is far past exasperation at this point, the extra antenna they’ve bolstered their comms with only confirms our suspicions when the astronaut leaves calls unanswered. There isn’t any time for this. 

“I repeat-”

“-yeah, I hear you.” Gabbro’s drawl is heavy with the slurring around their tongue. “What’s the ‘mergency, coach?” 

For the first time in the last few minutes, I lift my hand off the unmute button, snapping towards Hornfels. “You’re hearing this? Are they drunk- or high?” I hiss.

“I hope not, Hal said they were acting weird earlier, but- I don’t know,” Hornfels admits with an anxious mumble, their knuckles pressed up against their lips. 

Every traveller is stocked with a little wine, a Feldspar decision for ‘camp days and memories of home’, and I’m regretting letting it happen. It’s never been abused before, most people know the dangers of flying under the influence, but the risk shouldn’t have been ignored. I’ll fix it. 

“Are you in a state fit enough to pilot?” My voice is sharper than I intended, I glare at the little screen displaying the frequency channel as if they could see it. “There’s been an explosion on Ash Twin, and we think Eclo was either near it- or on it.” 

I pause, chewing my bottom lip until I taste blood. “...There isn’t any signal from their ship either,” I admit, wincing as I hear Hornfels deflated ‘no’ beside me. 

“Ah,” Gabbro goes painfully silent after that. I claw at the edge of the keyboard to stop myself from saying anything rash, but the silence stretches on too long and I’m about to speak- scream- or something, when Gabbro finally replies.

“I can’t do anything. My ship’s out somewhere in the waves, having a good time– hopefully.”

“You lost your ship?!”

“Technically? It’s there, but it’ll take me a little more than twenty minutes to swim there, y’know the gravity is pretty heavy here, and I wonder-”

“-Get to your ship.” I can’t stand their unbothered tone and the ramblings of nothing important. Rarely does my voice go this cold, rarely do I feel this type of anger so deep under my bones. “This isn’t a joke! Every minute wasted, Eclo could be– stuck out there.” I shudder, feeling like the floor beneath me is moving.

“... I won’t get there in time, coach”

“You don’t get to give up.” 

“I don’t think you can do anythin’ is what I’m saying.”

“Get to your ship.”

“Co-” I twist the dial so fast the speaker sounds like a waterfall of different staticky songs all flickering rapidly between each other, Gabbro’s lost voice a relief to me. My shoulders are pulled nearly up to my ears, and I don’t even blink as I start to align the frequency with Riebeck’s.

I remember back when they were still new- but not as new as Gabbro- and we tasked them with searching for Feldspar near Brittle Hollow. I had hoped that their interest and the seriousness of the situation would overpower their fear. It did not, and it took an hour of Hornfels and Chert coaxing them out of an episode to lead them back home; would I really be willing to risk that?

In the end, I might have to go out there on my own. My ship is the oldest one still in operation, the slowest, and it still hasn’t been updated with the warping technology for the Little Scout.

How has everything aligned to make this impossible to do?

“Gossan.” There’s a hand on my shoulder, I barely contain my flinching. “What do you want me to do?” And they sound so scared .

I gasp around my next inhale, blinking up at Hornfels’ fearful face, and mutter with all the strength I can muster, “Tell Slate to get my ship ready. Tell Rutile to keep people inside, in case any debris reaches us.” 

There isn’t time to calculate the potential threat of that, nor do I have anyone out in space right now who could tell us if there’s anything coming. I have to make the decision to be safe rather than sorry. 

The panic will be a struggle to deal with. The questions will be worse. 

Hornfels nods, stepping away from my side, they turn around and then stop, stammering, “H-Hal?”

Oh, oh no.

“How long have you been here?” Hornfels puts on a fake ease, I turn around to see them approach the hatchling cautiously, a hand outstretched. Hal doesn’t look at them, instead they face me directly, eyes wide with pure terror .

“They’re okay,” I start immediately, keeping my voice soft and comforting, pleading. “Hal, they’re okay. It’s going to be okay.”

It doesn’t reach them, they’ve heard too much. Hal presses their palms to their eyes but that doesn’t stop the tears and there’s nothing there to muffle the broken sob that follows. “ No- no they aren’t. ” 

I can’t move again. My legs turned to stone, my heart into ice. “They’re okay,” I beg, unable to get my voice loud enough to be heard through Hal’s crying. Hornfels moves, placing their hands on Hal’s shoulders only to stumble back at the force of Hal burrowing their face into their sweater.

“They’re okay,” I try again, but I can’t get my voice above a whisper. 

“They’re okay,” I croak. 

“U-uhm, hello?” I startle at Riebeck’s voice, I’ve sunk enough on weak legs that I accidentally pressed down on the unmute button. “Who..? What’s- uh- going on? If- If I can ask?”

“Riebeck!” I hate how desperate I sound, turning away from Hal and Hornfels feels like tearing skin, but I have to try. I can’t give up, I can’t give up only to learn they were waiting for me. I can’t do that. “I need you to get to your ship and head to Ash Twin. Eclo is- I think Eclo is trapped. There was an explosion.”

I can’t frame my sentences fully anymore, I can’t hide the fear, I can’t keep my voice from shaking anymore. I’m going to drown.

“What?! But-” Riebeck’s voice pitches with the panic I knew they were going to have, and I don’t know if I will be able to pull them out of it. This couldn’t have worked, we weren’t prepared, I wasn’t- 

“-But I just saw them?” My heart stops and starts all in a few seconds.

“When?” I gasp, gripping the neck to the microphone “When?!”

Hal has gone silent, Hornfels stopped their comforting whispers, I feel their eyes on the back of my head.

“They were just here- uh- like maybe- a minute ago?” Riebeck answers, it feels like flying for the first time, the force of my relief nearly knocks me onto my knees.

“Thank you,” I gasp, breathing like I found land after swimming for hours, the tremor to my hands rattling the small microphone, I have to let go. “Stars above.”

“They’re okay,” I repeat and truly believe it.

Chapter Text

Riebeck

Strings pulled tight and let loose, hands against drums, a flute, a harmonica, a guitar, whistling, singing and dancing. My own hands are shaking with each tug on the banjo string, but I don't think my smile is as afraid as my head. My heart seems just as confused, hammering fear and bustling thrill makes for a mix as sour as it is sweet. Hard to comprehend with words, so I play it out on my banjo, and I'd like to think there isn't a language more encompassing than an orchestra.

We were all together celebrating my first solo flight, and it was the last time we were all together like that. Now, years past, my banjo is a lonely sound, joined by a volcanic storm I do my best to ignore. It's hard to pretend the astronomically terrifying weather condition doesn't exist when each shattering impact shakes the floor I'm on. 

Would it be silly to say that I relate to Brittle Hollow? I feel in tune with how it's constantly facing some stubborn horror, or how it looks whole from the outside, but venture within and you'll learn better. Seeing myself in the crystal structures can be comforting as long as I'm not looking down, but to move around here requires a lot of looking down.

Home is so filled with life compared to this. If it's not the noise of the village it's the bleating of our animals, the chirping of the bugs, wind, and trees, and geysers, and so much breathing. I'm the most living thing here since Feldspar landed, and Feldspar was the most living thing here since the Nomai were alive- which was a very, very long time ago.

It must have been so different, a whole city filled with talking, moving, and interesting people whose days were bad and good and worse until there were no more days that any of them would get to see. It's.. pretty scary to think about, living in a solar system that once housed another species but killed them all despite their technological advancements. You have to wonder what it will do to us.

Hornfels mentioned the filter theory to me once, I think they were trying to help, but young me latched onto that looming threat of death upon the failure of our species to pass some unknowable test, and it took a week to settle that buzz in my head telling me we are in someway failing. I understand it more now as something that if it does exist we can't do anything about it, which is still scary, but at least I don't feel responsible for saving the world or anything.

My camp has been a solace in this chaotic upside down place for a while, I should start moving on, but 'I should' has never actually motivated me into doing anything. ‘I should’ then I continued sitting for another hour or two. Some days it feels like I'm stuck unmoving until something undefinable breaks my spell and I'm able to start doing things again, I've been like that since I was a hatchling. Worse now actually, since I've been here for a long... long time, and still haven't visited the city.

The idea of facing the village and only bringing back subpar information is far scarier than staying here. My rations will run out eventually, but eventually isn't now fortunately.

The string flexes, and releases a lovely thrum following, it's calm, familiar, my second favourite thing, followed by what might be my least favourite thing.

A sensation passes through the planet and me. A noiseless rumble that reaches through my skin and into my bones in a way that is not right at all. My hand is on my radio in an instant, static hums and then my heart stops as my HUD flickers with a gasp, then it goes dark.

"Uuuuhhhh-" my next breath is more like a croak, standing now- stepping further away from the edge that feels like it's creeping towards me. Okay. Okay. 

"Okay." 

Not okay! This is incredibly not okay! No matter how I twist I hear nothing. No whistling, no drums, and no flute. Communications are out for some reason, and I have no idea for how long, there was a ... wave? I'm not sure, and for the milliseconds it was visible it looked like a heatwave, but it most certainly was not hot or had any particular qualities I could define.

Chert is probably figuring this all out right now, and will fix it and contact me. Yeah. All I need to do is hunker down, chill out, and wait. Maybe I should climb up to see if there's anything to see, but that seems like a stupid idea because there wouldn't be anything to see.

Slowly I sit back down, gripping my banjo's neck like it owes me something. It doesn't, and I shouldn't be so cruel, so I let go but then almost dropped it and I take that as a sign I should put it away. I can't start playing with hands shaking this much anyway, and I can't stop turning my head on a swivel watching for something to happen.

My HUD turns back on with very little warning, a pop, a few twisted pixels, then the information shows up unchanged. Nothing amiss, uncalculated, or off-center, thank hearth . Last thing I would want to deal with is a computer malfunction in my suit that would be terrible. No, I don't want to think about that anymore. 

I pat along the ground until I find my signalscope, aiming and searching but I still don't hear anything other than ugly static.  

I don’t-

I don’t know what to do. 

We have protocols, I mean honestly the protocols are more about Gossan’s heavy lectures than actual plans. Ultimately predicting the problems we would face on barely explored planets was less efficient than teaching us all survival and medical skills to adapt to situations. 

The protocol for communications being down, in Slate’s simplified explanation, is ‘you’re on your own’. Gossan advised that unless we were in danger, we should wait for the communications to be restored instead of leaving our camps and returning home. They warned about the dangers of a ship collision and the predicted survival ability of the accident; none, none at all. 

Okay, choice made. I’ll wait. My camp has been homely, and not scary at all, but now it feels so much more eerie. Not that it changed, but everything else did, like if I step a foot outside my camp then I’ll discover that everyone is skeletons now, or that every other planet is missing.

That’s stupid, right? Yeah, that’s pretty stupid. 

If there’s one good thing about this situation is that the volcanic storm has at least seemed to slow. Minutes pass without a single horrifying crash, which is an improvement that I can be grateful for. 

I breathe. I count the leaves on the trees, I count the buttons on my signalscope and even though it hasn’t really been that long I think static sounds better than the grumble of the- that- below. Maybe it’s fixed..? Hopefully, somehow magically all better now.

I don’t find Chert’s drums, or Esker’s whistling, but I catch a noise, and after a little positioning I hear it (almost) clear as the night sky. The low easy hums of a flute. 

My radio connects without issue. It did magically fix itself!

"Uhm- Gabbro! Do you- it's me by the way. Did your comms, and everything- turn off for you too?" I ask nervously, hoping Gabbro has some of their normal expertise regarding being chill.  

There's a pause so long I think maybe my HUD is lying to me when it says the channel is operational, but eventually I hear a click then a raging wind. The flute stops. 

"..Yup," The 'p' pops pretty dramatically, Gabbro's gain always has to be raised high so we can hear them through the vicious background noises of Giant's Deep.

"D-do you know what happened?" I ask quickly, hoping for an assurance of some kind that something terrible hasn’t happened.

"....don' think I do," Gabbro's voice drags and slurs, causing me to pause.

"Are you- ...are you okay?" I chew at my lips, standing up and pacing- small circles and nowhere near the edge.

"Yeah." Comes quickly in reply. "You?"

"I'm-" I begin, and stop. "Why do you s-sound like that?"

"...I..." Another lengthy pause, I can hear fabric rustling. "Only just woke up.”

And oh, I get that. For a while I was always pretty disoriented when I fell asleep in my suit, couldn't even wipe my eyes to clear the sleep out.

"Ah- sorry- it must be overwhelming to- to wake up to this," Murmuring, I fiddle with the fabric inside my glove, feeling the texture of the seams.

"...Nah, no, it's not like that, rye.. I'm just turning my brain back on. Y'know how long that takes," Gabbro says with heavy tongue mumbling that's hard to understand through the speakers.

"A-alright- okay," I take a measured breath, but it's shaky and they notice. 

"Breathe, buddy, breathe, we're all okay," Gabbro comforts, voice steadying. 

"I am," I answer automatically, but really I’m not doing the best job of breathing, the world feels dangerously lopsided, and I have to sit down again. 

"Could…could you play your flute?" I ask carefully, knowing I could’ve left them unbothered and listened through the signalscope if I really just wanted to hear their music. 

"Sure, I can do that," Gabbro sighs, relieved. "Got your banjo? We can play together while we wait."

"Yeah," I grab the instrument from where I left it, resting it on my crossed legs.

The next answer is a musical one, the low hum of their flute plays a song we all know. I've worried before that Gabbro's part to play was too.. not unimportant, but their notes are long and low, and everyone else's music always overcomes their flute until you have to strain to hear them, but they assured me a while ago that's exactly what they love about the flute.

It's routine, it's easy, and it supports everyone else without doing much work. It really does fit them. My banjo joins along soon after, singing the notes of our travellers song. Uncomplicated, and quiet, different from the musical numbers played at bonfires. Gabbro and I inherited this song from the Founders, but it has always made me feel wrong that I've replaced Gossan's guitar. It’s a stupid thought, I’d never actually replace Gossan, and it’s just a song, but I wish they never stopped playing so that I could be playing a different part. 

The hatchlings grew up to my banjo leading the song instead of the steady notes from Gossan’s guitar. . .  It's really strange to think about. I wonder now if Moraine is pointing their signalscope up right now, listening to this. Maybe they need comfort too.

Gabbro stops playing, cutting off the midsection of the rhythmic routine and all I hear in explanation is wind. Not a terrible deafening wind, maybe a little louder than before, but the signature roar of a cyclone isn’t there to tell me that they’re being interrupted by violent winds.

Do I continue playing? Do I ask them why they stopped? Do I go quiet too and not say anything? Does it even matter what I do? Through my gloves I feel the vibration of the four thick strings wobbling and humming out notes, words aren’t easy to thread together into something helpful, so I keep my mouth shut and let the music do all the wordless talking. 

“Huh,” Gabbro hums eventually, low and empty, or maybe I’m imagining it – Gabbro’s tone has always been ambiguous at best, and I’d hate to impose assumptions based on my own elevated fear. 

“Why did you call me?” They follow up, I hear them murmur, “I don’t remember,”

“Uh,” I say worriedly, gnawing at my lips, “The- outage? It really wasn’t that long ago… Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I don’t think it matters,” they mumble, and it just makes me more worried. “Sorry, I don’t know why I said that.” 

“W-What are you saying?” I stutter, pressing my fingers against the strings to stop playing, my focus now pinned on their low voice.

“This one is weird,” Gabbro’s voice grows heavier. I hear them, but I don’t know if they heard me. “Hal called me too, I think,”

“Gabbro?” I ask, and all I hear for a reply is one long exhale.

“Are you..? What’s wrong?” Tension sharpens my voice, Gabbro’s  sudden shift is concerning, something is wrong and I can’t figure it out. My stomach twists like a tangled rod, and I don’t know what to do, or how to help. 

“I don’t know how to help.” I admit, softly adding on “I don’t know what you’re saying– did something happen to Hal? Is that why they called you?”

“No,” Gabbro answers quickly, surprising me. “It was them saying… well it was something,”

“You don’t remember?”

“It's getting hard to lately.”

“Why? Should you go see Rutile?”

“Nah, it’s not something to worry about,” Gabbro waves me off, repeating with a distracted mumble “I’m jus’ thinking out loud, shouldn’t worry too much about it.” 

“Well. Uh. That usually never stops me from worrying,” I note, feeling all at once that I’m screwing this up completely. Gabbro is my friend, they’ve helped me more times than I can count on my hands, and I'd like to think I’ve helped them too, but I have never heard them talk like this before. 

It was Spinel, or Porphy who’d swoop in and take Gabbro away when they would get stuck unmoving . Gabbro would come back, talking again, joining us when we’d play at the creek or anywhere we weren’t supposed to be. The terrible days for them were never shared with me, and eventually as we got older they stopped having them. 

This might be a terrible day for them, but now Gabbro is alone on one of the most dangerous planets. No heroes to take them out of it. 

“Do-Do you want to go home?” I offer, scrambling on something to say, “I think. Uh. You need a break from Giant’s Deep.”

“...” I could pull a seam from how tightly I’m pulling at the inside of my gloves, the knot in my stomach twisting each second I don’t hear a reply.

“Yeah,” Gabbro’s voice shakes , “Sure, I’ll go home.” 

I don’t know if they’re lying, so I starting talking but– 

–Then, nothing. The quiet hum of electricity in my ears is the goodbye Gabbro never says, radio disconnected. I’m left alone, confused and worried, Grip tightening around my banjo like it-

“What was that?” Eclo interrupts– 

“AAAAH-!” Shouting, I fail forward and twisting backwards to look at Eclo as they cover their visor with their gloves. They straighten from where they were hiding behind me, and I have no clue how they got there, or how I didn’t notice. 

“Don’t do that!” I heave, pressing a hand to my heart and kneeling on the ground. Today’s been too much already, and I’ll be grateful to have actual company when my heartbeat stops drilling into the side of my head.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Eclo hops over the rock I was just on before they scared the scales off me. They nearly topple over, leaning precariously to the left before righting themself, the heavy pack they’re wearing obviously is something they are still trying to get used to.

I haven’t seen them all suited up before, and I only know it’s Eclo because it really wouldn’t be anyone else. No one would design their helmet to look like a boring ol’ regular mining helmet, but the most recognizable thing is their scarf; torn green fabric they took from Feldspar’s cabin. 

I missed this trouble maker. 

Okay, I think I’m over being scared now. Maybe.

“You launched!” I cheer with only a little hesitation, “That’s great, good job. You-” I lose my next word as I notice the tiny deflation of their sagging shoulders, and the rolling of their head. “Crazy timing. Right? Uh- Do you know what happened? No, you don’t. Is that why you’re here? To.. ask me?” 

They let out an amused huff, stealing my seat on the rock. “Well, I know you were talking to Gabbro,” They stretch, then very casually ask, “What’s wrong with them?” 

“Oh. How much did you hear? Of that?” I ask, hoping it wasn’t too much. I stand back up, but they’ve taken my seat, so I tower over them, fiddling with the seams of my gloves. 

“Most of it, you didn’t really notice me at all for a while.” Is anyone going to act normal today? They seem so relaxed despite the situation, and if I was them and on my first solo flight and an outage happened I would be petrified. “Did they call you?”

“No. I. . . called them.” It’s a little nerve wracking to know they were listening for so long, and I don’t know if they saw me panic or not, maybe they didn’t if they didn’t overhear all of it.

“Why?” Eclo tilts their head innocently, looking up at me.

“Because… of the outage?” I say confused, watching them watching me.

“There was an outage?” Eclo echoes, tilting their head the other way now.

“Did? Did it not happen to you? I thought it was everyone. Maybe. Gabbro said it happened to them.” I babble, adjusting my gloves after all the twisting wrinkled them.

“I mean- maybe I didn’t notice?” Eclo’s attention is burning holes into me, I don’t think they even once look away from me.

“It was. Uh. Pretty noticeable.” I shrink under the spotlight.

“Can you describe it?” They ask, a deep note of curiosity in their voice, and not a hint of worry or fear.

I gulp. “The display turned off, and I couldn’t hear anybody with the signalscope. It lasted a few minutes. It was really short now that I… think about it.” 

“Huh,” They echo the same hum Gabbro did earlier, though less empty and much more intrigued. “That didn’t happen to me, not once.” 

“Oh,” I say, intelligently. That makes sense why they aren’t nervously flitting about like they do when things go wrong, and it’s a little comforting to have them seem so immovably cool about this. It probably should be the other way around with how much older I am to them, but– again– when does ‘should’ ever mean anything. 

“Okay!” They grin, springing up and almost falling. Again. But I catch them by their arm this time, steadying their lopsided weight distribution. That's really dangerous here with the– uh– that below us. Undeterred, they give me a few pats and announce,  “Thanks- I’m going to change my plans.”

“Oh?” I repeat, a little caught up in their infectious excitement, “What are you going to do?”

“I was going to go to the city, figure out a way to the tip-top somehow-” That makes me dizzy to think about. One, they’ve already been to the city. Two, there’s a ‘tip-top’. And three, they’ve already been to the city !

“-but that’s strange. The ‘outage’ and Gabbro was being weird in your call,”

“How- do you know? Was my sp-”

“-I couldn’t hear them, but there’s no way anything normal is going on if you suggested them to see Rutile,” Eclo explains easily, as if them recounting information they weren’t supposed to hear isn’t slightly uncomfortable at all. 

They hiss, and correct themself, not really taking a breath as they speak quickly, “normal is subjective. It isn’t normal to me-”

“-But anyway. New plan. I’m going to go visit Gabbro,” They gleam, apparently proud. Eclo has to lift their arms up quite a bit to grab my shoulders, and I blink down at their golden visor. I can’t see their expression, but I’m assuming it’s... hyper.

“Thanks, bud! For letting me know, it really helps,” They drop their hands, pausing just a second before spinning towards the rocky exit (and entrance) to my camp. They’re moving so quickly they are almost gone by the time I’m able to stammer.

“W-Wait-!”

Eclo does, I was almost expecting with how energetic they are that they weren’t going to. They turn only slightly towards me, not fully committing their focus. “Yeah?”

“..What-?” I chew on my words a moment, feeling a little ashamed I’m even going to ask this. “Uh. What was the city like?” 

“...” A moment’s pause, Eclo shifting their weight before speaking with a lowered tone, darker and heavy with something too layered to describe, “why don’t you see it for yourself?”

I feel defensive all of a sudden, voice snapping a little as I retort, “I am going to. Eventually.” 

“Don’t overthink it,” They advise with a softer tone, and a little bit of guilt, shoulders dropping again. “Try it, I think you’ll be surprised.”

“If you don’t-” They are quick to add on, quieter now, “I’ll just tell you another time.” 

I don’t know how to reply to how they cruised through three different emotions, bringing me with them. I watch through the pin-hole of my helmet as they turn back around, and ultimately I didn’t have to reply.

“Don’t overthink it!” Eclo repeats, calling out as they hurry away. Quickly vanishing behind the rocks, and it doesn’t take long at all for their footsteps to vanish as well. 

◈

Oh, hearth.

Oh, hearth.

Oh, hearth.

Gossan is in my earpiece, asking for updates, and I’m still trying to comprehend what they told me. The Ash Twin exploded which caused the outage –Hornfels theorizes– sent debris flying everywhere, but mostly into Ember Twin and Chert managed to escape, thank the stars.

Chert told them that Eclo was caught up in the explosion too, and they couldn’t get Eclo’s signal, but I just saw them barely a minute ago. 

It doesn’t make sense, but I don’t have time to think about it with how scared Gossan sounds.

I need to find Eclo.

I pack up my hiking gear, stomp out the fire, and bring an extra tank of oxygen. I don’t want to run here, with crumbling shaking platforms and the littering of gravity crystals threatening to trip me up at any misstep, but Eclo is going to their ship– which has no signal for some reason– and my only hope to catch up is running which means extra oxygen use. 

I really shouldn’t have let them leave, I knew with the outage we should’ve stuck together and waited! Oh, you’re so stupid, Riebeck.

“The debris from the explosion could be anywhere and would be imperceptible until it’s too late to avoid it,” Hornfels chimes in with harrowing news, both founders pressed up near the microphone to communicate with me. 

“Where do you think they landed?” I hear the rapid clanking of a keyboard alongside Gossan’s almost out-of-breath talking, “How long will it take you to get to the surface?” 

The buzzing in my head and heart are louder than the questions. I can feel the bump bump bump of my heartbeat in my throat and ringing in my ears as I look up at the gravity crystals I’m going to have to run up. 

“Riebeck!”

“S-Sorry!” Oh, I hate this. I hate this so much . My legs feel weak, the cliff faces looming over me, vaguely illuminated by a weak purple glow. Brittle Hollow’s geological structures haven't been studied beyond mine and Feldspar’s experience of ‘watch your footing’. The rocks here are jagged and cracked, and if you aren’t looking down you’ll stub your foot on an elevated lip and–

–fall.  

“I-I don’t know if I can do this,” 

“You can.”

“No! No. No I can’t, oh- Why- Why!”

“You-”

⬙

“You can do it! Steady your breathing! I know you can do this, Riebeck!” Gossan’s voice rings clearly thanks to the radio in my suit, despite the violent woosh of the drill in rapid spin. They’re in the zero-g cave with me, but I can only see glimpses of their flashlight as they hug the wall, staying as far away from the equipment as they can without leaving me alone. 

My knuckles burn clinging onto the arm of the drill, stomach twisting, and I squeeze my eyes shut against the nausea of it all.  

“I can’t! I’m-” I feel air get caught in my throat, and I can’t bring any back in. The cold terror shoots through my body, my hand jolting and nearly losing grip. 

I’m five years into training, I’m weeks away from my own first solo flight, but only if I pass this terrifying, incredibly dangerous test. The (controlled) out-of-control spin ‘satellite’ threatens to break ribs, knock you out, or maybe even kill you if you let go and get caught in the goliath spinning arms of this machine. I’m meant to climb inside, and turn it off. 

I can’t move. 

It doesn’t matter if my eyes are open or closed. All I see replayed over and over is my body flung backwards and smashed, caught up and torn as metal replaces my skin, my bones. 

Or I escape, and I’m lost to space, no ship to secure myself to, not enough fuel or air to get to safety, and I fail and I die, and there will be nothing to remember of me besides-

“Five years is a lot of time to waste!” My radio crackles with the gravel of Feldspar’s well-worn voice and the huffs of effort as they maneuver around “What are you doing still at the starting point?”

“Feldspar!” Gossan grins, their thrusters hissing as they move, “I thought you left already?”

“When I heard you two were down here, I had to see them kick this test in the butt! Can’t believe you didn’t tell me, shame on you,” Feldspar tsks, echoing in their helmet.

“I did tell you.” Gossan grumbles, the two founders meeting up, somewhere above- or below- or around. I don’t know anymore.

“You did? When? Agh, must’ve been a while ago if I don’t remember.”

“-AAAuAAAAAAAAAAAH!!” 

“-Oop, hold on a moment, gotta pep-talk my buddy,” I don’t know what they do, but their voice pitches louder, almost enough to silence the roaring wind produced with each spin. “What’s the problem? Why haven’t you moved?” 

“I- I- CAN’T!” Shame is quick to greet me, digging underneath my veins to tell me that I am a fool , and a coward. This should be easy, as naturally as it came for Feldspar, or I should be smart enough like Chert when they completed this test in under three minutes.

 “Get outta your head, Riebeck. You’ve got dreams to follow, and you ain’t letting them get trapped down here in this cave.

“I know you can do it, but more importantly you know you can do it.” Feldspar speaks with infectious confidence, it helps that I can’t really hear anything else. They continue, all warmth, all pride, “and you’ve been trained by the best of the best. . .then you got some training from me when I found the time.”

Nearly deafened under the machine and Feldspar’s elevated voice, Gossan laughs.

“Five years, and I’ve seen you tackle scarier things than any of the training we’ve thrown at you,”

Doubt is immediate, I haven’t done anything courageous, or dealt with horrifying situations outside of controlled practices, and even those I always barely pass.  

“I heard you went out during the coldest storm of the year, all fog and rain and ice, looking for the two dumb hatchlings who got themselves lost, and you went alone ,” Feldspar pierces through the screaming in my head, they are nothing but a blurry figure I can barely see, but I still feel like they’re in front of me, lighting up the path. 

“No visibility, no help, you could’ve frozen out there, but you did it, and you found the hatchlings- cause only you knew where that hide out was!” 

“You are brave! You decided to become an astronaut despite being terrified, you’ve been doing this for years, defeating that fear over and over, so are you going to tell me now at the end of it you’re going to give it all up?!”

Shining brighter than the stars, Feldspar shouts loud enough that they make everything else disappear, “It isn’t about not being scared, it’s about taking that step despite it!” 

I lift my hand up, screaming, and grab the pipe ahead of me, launching myself forward.

⬙

My thrusters boost me just enough for the gravity crystal to grab ahold of my legs, and everything turns- technically- upright. Nauseating for a split second, I blink as fast as I can once my shoes hit solid ground, a death grip on my jetpack controllers. 

“I’m going-! I’m going-!” Terrified, and a little thrilled, my legs move without me thinking. I run up the walls like a carpenter spider running away from Gneiss’ broom. The image, despite the circumstances, makes me laugh.

“You’re-? Okay! Keep going!” Gossan says bewildered, but relieved and continues to talk in my ear, “Get to the top, tell us if you see them.” 

If I look down- or to my left. I’ll see it, the sleeping death of a powerful black- 

I don’t move my head, keeping my sight strictly glued to the next rocky platform, until I’m throwing myself upwards, tumbling as gravity flips over and I land on a steady, normal floor. 

Lifting my head, the first thing I see is the scratchy old mural left behind, the paint aged and dull, and still so beautiful. The next is the arch revealing the unseen bridges to the city I still haven’t visited despite the passage of time allowing me many, many opportunities to do so.

The few gaps in the planet’s crusts allow beams of sunlight through. The crystals and the ice glow brilliantly, and I curse myself for never looking outside my camp until it’s too late. Fear kept my gaze on the floor, when really, I should’ve been looking up. 

I turn away, and rush towards the far edge of this alcove. It’s a bigger jump to reach the crystal, which was hellish coming down, but the jetpack does the work to propel me upwards.

Gravity flips again, and I land kneeling on one foot, which is so much better than the faceplant I was worried about. My heart is still pounding in my ears, and a very very scared part of myself is still screaming down at the first gravity crystal. I let it stay there. 

“Where are you, Riebeck?” Gossan pipes in. 

“I’m-” heaving through heavy breaths I run to the next crystal, then the next. “-Almost to the top!” 

The broken platform is a few steps away. I bend my legs and jump, failing my arms to right myself before I crash onto the old Nomain structure, but there’s no room or time and I land on my side with an ‘ ompf !’ and a groan. 

“What happened?” Gossan snaps, tension and worry making them more on edge than me.

“Nothing- nothing. I’m good, there’s a-” I pause, wondering if there’s time to explain it fully, and no there isn’t “Jump. But I’m almost at the- uh- stairs.” 

“Okay, okay good, keep going, be careful.”

I’m starting to get dizzy from how many times my sense of equilibrium flips. The next gravity crystal I land on my hands and knees, my ears aching, and I crawl the short distance to the stairs.

Wobbling, I take two steps at a time, swallowing against the nausea. Either time or culture lead to many of the Nomai structures to have absolutely no guard rails, which I could’ve studied if I had actually done my job. 

The tree pushes through most of this crumbling building, empty of most furniture. The only way in and out is the large gouge in the roof. My tired legs complain as I jump, thruster in full. 

Emerging from below, it’s been some weeks since I’ve been up here. My gaze goes up, tracing the edge of this crater, searching for the hulking build of Slate’s latest ship.

“I’m- I’m on the surface,” I huff, out of breath, catching the sight of a small plume of smoke that leads down to my old campfire. A jolt of panic hits me, I didn’t put out the fire good enough, I could’ve burned down precious ancient history because I wasn’t careful enough-

“What do you see?” Gossan asks, and I answer without thinking. 

“Fire.”

“What?!” The terror in Gossan’s alarm is enough to pitch the mic.

“No- no! I’m sorry no- It’s my old camp, it’s not. It’s not them. Sorry!” I quickly stumble over my words hurrying to correct myself before Gossan has a heart attack.

“ Riebeck! ” The disapproval is obvious, I wince.

“Sorry,” I repeat, readjusting my grip on the thruster controls. “But uh- No, I don’t see their ship, but I uh, can’t see much from here, I’ll go up higher.”

There isn’t much else to see from outside the little village(assuming it’s a village), there’s no ship, and the horizon gobbles up the rest of my view. 

“They aren’t here…” Doubt, guilt, failure tastes bitter, I wasn’t fast enough.

“Don’t give up yet.” Gossan steadies their voice, but I can still hear the anxious frayed edges in it. “We don’t know where they landed, and as long as you get close enough you could connect to the local frequency.”

I nod, they can’t see it, “Okay.” 

I try the radio, it’s only noise, and I switch back quickly. “What way do I go? How..? How am I supposed to know which direction?”

“We can’t, we’re guessing. Use your scout, or start moving, but anything is better than giving up,” The familiar words become a pang in my heart, Gossan never gives up, at least, until they have to. 

The surface isn’t safe, even though the volcanic storm has slowed there’s still the danger of it starting back up at any point, or loose stones falling down below. Taking my scout launcher off of my back, I aim and fire at the ground. Structural integrity is high enough I’m comfortable taking my next steps along the planet's surface. 

This repeats. 

Gossan keeps asking if I see anything, I don’t. 

I end up somewhere I’ve never been before, far in the distance glows a Nomai structure that looks a little like a snail, much whiter and far less geometric than the other buildings, but I don’t think I should near it or explore it. 

My oxygen has a quarter left, and I have an extra one, but I really don’t want to resort to struggling to screw in an oxygen tank while I’m running out of air if I have a choice.

“I think. . .” I begin, biting my tongue, “I missed them.”

Wind rushes by and past in a howl before I hear Gossan’s somber reply, “I think so too.”

“Sorry,” I feel inclined to apologize, I really shouldn’t have let them leave in the first place.

“It’ll be fine,” They say– I think– to comfort us both.

“What- uh- what should I do.. Now?”  My own breathing echoes around my helmet, I watch the bar decrease with it.

“...” Gossan pauses, thinking on it, “We’ll come up with a course to get you home, find a safe place to stay and-” 

There’s muffled speaking in the background, before they continue “Hornfels will update you on what to do.”

I recall the scout, raise the launcher high, and fire. From what I saw when I flew by this planet is that there’s often many alcoves of breathable air thanks to the hearty trees living despite this weak atmosphere. 

The rapid clicking of the picture button lended me sight to a lowered section of the ground, littered with trees, and a flat Nomai structure. Air and shelter, I start walking, feeling the ache of my muscles slow me down. 

“Are you- Are you going to talk to Gabbro?” Maybe I shouldn’t have asked that question, because I hear the tightness in Gossan’s voice as they reply “We have been.”

“Oh.” I don’t want to know why Gossan’s upset at Gabbro, my adrenaline is crashing, and failure stings fresh in my mind. It’s not a weight I feel strong enough to carry right now. 

“I can’t stay here?” It sounds like a childish whine, but I finally feel like- in a few hours at least- I could explore the city.

“A planet exploded , Riebeck,” Gossan deadpans softly, “I want everyone home.” 

There’s no reason to argue that, and it’s stupid to have thought otherwise. 

“Okay.” I answer, trudging forward.

“We’ll contact you when we have more information.” 

“Okay.” 

I mute after that, feeling the exhaustion of all the waves of worry, and fear that kept on coming. 

The hiss of oxygen filling allows me to take a deep breath comfortably. I’m at the edge of this giant crater, falling in slow motion and stumbling when I hit the ground. Eighty percent integrity is good enough, I won’t stay here for long when it’s that low, but my legs are begging for me to sit down. 

The platform in the middle is pretty close to the ground, a window making up most of it, and one of those boards with Nomai writing on it. Stairs too, but I’m not going to deal with those. 

A large strange looking rock is far off, there’s something on the top of it, but I can’t quite see at this angle.

I sit, and watch as Hollow’s Lantern flies past, still docile. This moment's pause allows me to see what Gossan really meant about the explosion. Far, far off in the distance, dancing with the sun and nearly out of sight, a planet that looks like neither of the twins moves easily through space. The different debris, I assume, creates bands of different colours all moving around. It looks a little like Giant’s Deep, if it was made of rock and sand instead of dense clouds. 

When I look back down again, the strange rock has changed positions. 

I blink, it’s gone. 

Oh, stars below, is there going to be anything normal about today? It’s like the rock that’s in the museum– the one that would move when you looked away– except this one is much larger and much darker.  

It moves someplace else every time I blink, and then I notice the trees are moving around too. Air catches in my throat, and for once it isn’t fear. 

I’ve lost my chance to see the city, or the northern dome. I’m here right now at another point of interest for the Nomai’s strange history, and I really really don’t want to go home empty handed.   

I pull myself up, and march towards the rock– which vanishes because I blinked– I turn around, and march to where it is now , this time always keeping one set of eyes on it. 

It is enormously tall, and is both sharp and rounded in places. As I approach, I can see my reflection clearer than the cleanest mirrors. I am not a geologist, but I’m guessing this could be some type of volcanic glass, could it even be classified as a rock if that’s the case? I wouldn’t know, but it is interesting, and someone at home would be delighted to know about this. 

Despite myself, I watch my own reflection. I'm hunched, and honestly looking a little haggard. 

Then, my reflection waves at me. 

I didn’t wave. I didn’t even move.  

The darkness speaks towards an impossible space, the me in the reflection turns around- I do not, I’m frozen in place, unblinking, and horrified.

I stop breathing entirely when something else walks out from the dark, standing next to my reflection, a ghost, something I have only seen laying dead on the ground. 

A Nomai space suit tilts it strange masked head at me.

I blink inherently, then, a natural reaction.

“Oh, FUCK !” Also, a natural reaction.