Chapter Text
Calcite likes being compared to Feldspar, is the thing.
They always wanted to be like them. It was hard not to notice—they were so obvious back when Feldspar was still around, trailing after them whenever they were in the village, hanging onto every word they said and every story they brought with them. Everyone saw it. I saw it. Void, even Tephra must have caught it, and they were barely out of water at that time.
They managed to hide in Feldspar’s ship that one time, and could have gone out to space long before convincing Gossan to start their training if Hornfels didn’t think to ask me where they went and I didn’t immediately spill out the entire plan. I thought they’d never talk to me again for spoiling their chances, except Feldspar promised to take them to the ruins on Timber Hearth when they came back, and all was forgiven. They planned to bring back a wall piece, like the one from the Attlerock, so we could study it together and make some progress. We were both giddy with excitement, and half of our sleep time was spent whispering what kinds of things they’d find there. Calcite imagined finding living skeletons and ghosts, waiting to jump out at the sight of movement. They wanted to scare Riebeck with it, I think, but got distracted by the idea of having an undead Nomai we could bring all of our questions to, and then we spent hours wondering how we’d approach having a conversation with them. Would copying the text from the Attlerock be a good enough starting point? What if it said something rude? Calling someone a spoiled egg by accident wouldn’t be a good start.
Then Feldspar didn’t come back.
The sun crawls across the wall and to the desk, then disappears. When it comes back, I give up on sleep and get dressed.
It was impossible not to compare them, is another thing. You just had to see Calcite with a jetpack and Feldspar in a ship to know they were carved out of the same rock. Gossan got that look on their face, when they took to teaching Calcite—like they were seeing a ghost, or something worse. However much Riebeck insisted on preparing for every possibility, they didn’t get nearly as much safety training as Gossan forced Calcite through. They complained about it endlessly when it turned out that getting ready to leave meant they had less time to tinker with the translator or argue about the translation, and laughed off every worry. Their wide grin as they talked about uncovering every secret Nomai had left was the same as Feldspar’s when they were planning their flight.
On the third day after Calcite’s launch—on the third day after they forgot to say goodbye, climbed into their ship, took off and disappeared—there is nothing that I hate more than the comparison.
The village is only slightly emptier than usual, and I have to stop for a chat with Rutile. They don't mention Calcite at all but pat my shoulder in compassion that makes my stomach twist. Porphy must be asleep, and I'm grateful for that. Tephra and Galena look up when I pass, and Tephra calls, “Wanna play hide-and-seek?”
I decline, and Galena whispers, “Calcite always plays with us.” Tephra makes a face.
“They’ll play with you when they’re back,” I promise and leave up the path to the observatory.
Hornfels startles at the creaking of the stairs. “Ah, Hal. You're up early.”
“Couldn't sleep,” I shrug. My chair has been pushed aside in the last couple of hours and I drag it right back. “How is it?”
“Nothing.” They rub their eyes.
“Has Gabbro answered?”
“No.”
Of course they haven’t.
“Your turn to rest,” I say.
Hornfels glances at the heap of blankets in the corner and hesitates. “Have you had breakfast?”
“I'm not hungry.” They have probably skipped dinner too, and I should have thought about it and brought something.
“I'm going to get food,” they decide, but linger at the console, staring at the screens and giving them another chance to show anything new. “If—”
“I'll call you.”
They nod and leave.
It’s quiet alone in the observatory. I reach for the radio’s controls even before the next sunrise, and flick the transmitter on. “Chert, this is ground control. This is, um. This is Hal. Have you found anything? Over.”
“Ah, Hal.” They sound tired. “Sorry, nothing so far. Even if they were here, they’re long since gone. Over.”
I try not to feel disappointed about it. “Are there any traces?”
“That’s what I’m checking now—or, well, I’m checking whether their ship is somewhere here still. Even if they left to explore the caves, it would have to stay on the surface, or near enough to it, but there’s nothing. I’m waiting for the sand on the Ember Twin to recede so I can see the lakebed, but I doubt they went there. I would have seen them if they did. Over.” I don’t know what to answer, and they add, “Sorry, hatchling. They probably took off to some other planet after that. We’ll keep looking.”
“Yeah, they… yeah. Thank you. Out.”
There are no sounds in the observatory except for the wind outside and the creaking of wood. I don’t mind it, usually. It’s a good place to think—Calcite always finds me here, and nothing is quiet when they are around.
I switch the channel. “Riebeck, this is Hal. Are you alright?” There’s no response and I sit up straighter. “Riebeck?..”
“Yes! Yes, I’m here.” Their voice is an immediate relief. “You—um, you spooked me a bit and I almost dropped the radio to, um. It’s fine, though! It’s all fine.”
“Are you still under the surface?” They shouldn’t be. I’ve been asleep for—surely for long enough for them to finish their way up?
“No! It’s just, um, there’s a lot less planet now? Compared to what there was last time I walked here. My ship is all the way out near the south pole, and. There is a big hole between me and it? So I’m trying to find a way around it.”
It sounds absolutely and utterly horrifying, and I am so, so glad to be nowhere near that place. “Please be careful,” I say.
I don’t know what to do if you also get hurt, I don’t add, but maybe Riebeck hears it anyway because they reassure, “I’m doing quite fine though! I reached another Nomai structure. The big lattice one! I’ve been, uh, taking a tiny break here. There are, um, there are no meteors inside, and some oxygen, and a lot of Nomai things! There’s a, this stone, and if you put it inside a slot—I don’t have time to translate what it says, but I think it’s a text we haven’t seen yet!”
Oh, that’s exciting. That would have been exciting. I chew my lip and ask, “How long until you’re in your ship?”
“Um. I—I mean, there’s a straight path from here to the south pole, I think? So, not that long. I’m, um. I’m going to head out soon. When Hollow’s Lantern passes? It’s calmed down a bit, but it’s still, it’s a lot of meteors. And crumbling ground. It would be—not good, if I fell all the way down, haha. …oh, I should really stop thinking about that.”
“You’ve got this. You’ve come this far, right? Just a bit longer to go.”
“Yes! Yes, I, uh, I can totally do that. Though I need to, um. I’m glad to hear from you, Hal, but I need to look where I’m going, and, um, when I’m talking…”
“Focus on coming home safe,” I say. “Okay?”
“Okay! I’m, um. Out.”
I lean my forehead against the console and listen to the silence. Calcite said they’d come visit Riebeck, make sure they’re okay out there and drag them into the Hanging City if they were still getting cold feet at the idea. It was one of the first points in their long list of things to do, even above their desire to hunt down the Quantum Moon and be the first to land there. They have to come back, and make sure they accomplish everything they planned.
Another frequency. “Calcite, this is Hal.” I wait. No answer. “You know, if you don’t show up tomorrow at worst, I will ask Slate to take their high pressure fuel lines design and attach it to a sprinkler. I’ll put a pump in the river, and I will hunt you down and spray you with water until you beg for forgiveness.” No answer. “I’ll be mean and merciless and you’re going to regret this so, so much.” No answer. “But you really have it coming for deciding to disappear on us like this. Gossan will want to ground you, and I’ll support them.” No answer. “You can’t just—You can’t do this to me.”
No answer.
I get up and pace in tight circles around the stairs until I feel like I can breathe again.
Hornfels comes. They carry two steaming bowls of stew and refuse to go to bed until I eat what’s in mine. They notice the transmitter still being on but only ask about how Chert and Riebeck is doing. I relay what I know. They stay in the observatory, huddled in the far corner, and it takes them a while to fall asleep. I angle the receiver dish to point at Giant’s Deep and catch the flute playing its slow, haunting part. (Did it always sound so sad?) When I call Gabbro, there's no response.
Gossan comes, their footsteps heavy on the creaking floors and their expression set to hard fury. Their eyes soften when they notice Hornfels in the blankets and me at their spot, and when they ask about Riebeck their voice is quiet. They don't ask about Calcite, only study the screens like they might hold the most important secrets of the universe. I shake my head. They close their eyes, nod, and leave.
Hornfels stirs when the radio comes to life with Chert’s voice. They say Ember Twin is empty of sand now. They say there's no sign of Calcite or Calcite’s ship anywhere.
“I’ll check on Gabbro again. Stand by,” I say, then radio them, wait for response, point in their direction to hear their music, but it's all silent. “Nothing,” I report to Chert. They say they're going to Giant’s Deep.
Hornfels is awake and messing with the map when Riebeck bursts in with staticky, “I’M IN MY SHIP!!!” I can hear how much they’re shaking through their voice, but it doesn't sound like an I'm-in-immediate-danger panic. Hornfels whispers to me to let Gossan know and talks Riebeck through the flight checks. They should know it all just fine, but they're nervous, and Hornfels is also nervous, and working through a small problem might help.
I find Moraine on their favorite tree and ask them to find Gossan, and try not to feel very useless as they run off. By the time I return, it's Chert’s voice on the radio, and I just catch, “...busted.” There's a flute in the background, barely audible through the howling of wind. Hornfels rubs their temples.
I mouth, “What's wrong?”
Hornfels ignores me. “How much danger are they in?”
“They'd be more safe if they at least agreed to enter their ship instead of lying on top of it," Chert replies and, oh, they are really annoyed. “There are cyclones here all the time, it's anyone’s guess when one comes and throws them against the rocks.”
Gabbro said something about cyclones, when we called them first. Something about them being unpredictable, about some probe cannon—probe cannon effect?—I’m not sure. They didn't make a lot of sense. “Is Gabbro injured?” I butt in.
There's howling silence on the other side and some footsteps. “They don't appear to be—”
“I'm just fine!” Gabbro’s voice is further away, and I strain my ears to hear. “Heyo, everyone. What's the commotion?”
“As I've told you,” Hornfels sighs, “Calcite is missing.”
“Oh, well. That's not good, isn’t it?”
“It isn't.” Hornfels chews their lip and keeps their tone level. “What happened to your ship?”
“Ah. My good friend Swirly, that’s what. I was just done with a day’s worth of exploring and setting up the campfire, when I hear the winds singing—more than they usually do over here. I turn around, and my ship’s already in the sky all without my help.”
“Why didn't you say anything earlier?”
“It's a pretty self-sufficient ship, I didn't think it needed me worrying about it. It's been a while since it came to visit.”
“Okay.” Hornfels rubs their temples but their voice stays even. “Can you get it working enough to fly to Timber Hearth?..”
I try not to feel angry at Gabbro. They are stranded on a dangerous alien planet. It is probably scary. They act blasé about it because they are Gabbro, but that doesn’t mean they're not stuck and in need of some help. They aren't refusing to search for Calcite because they don't care, they don't have a working ship and simply can't help.
Hornfels ends the call with orders to see if they can get Gabbro flying or if Chert is going to have to drag them home. I try not to feel angry at the time wasted. Gabbro is my friend, too, and helping them isn't a waste of time. Even if they sound like they brought it all on themself and like they're not at all concerned about anyone’s fate.
We watch Riebeck’s flight on the map. They take a long way around the sun, avoiding coming anywhere close to it, and by the time they’re on the other side Timber Hearth is halfway to where Brittle Hollow was when they started.
Hornfels notices my shifting in the chair and glancing at the stairs. “You should go meet Riebeck.” They smile. “Make sure they're okay after the flight. I'll send a hatchling for you if anything comes up.”
I estimate that it would take Riebeck until the next sunrise to arrive, but I jog to the tower. I wave at Gossan and Slate, and they nod at me. They're on the opposite sides of the camp, refusing to look at each other. I haven't seen Slate in a bit, and blink in surprise at the deep purple between their left eyes. It doesn’t look like a result of an explosion or an accident. I heard them fight (everyone probably did, except maybe Tektite, Tuff and Marl who’d gone to drag the scout launcher north to investigate something weird) after Calcite’s marker said they were in a dozen places at once before blinking out completely, but I didn't know it was an actual physical fight.
Riebeck comes in for a landing faster than expected, bounces off the landing pad, clips some trees and manages to keep airborne only through a miracle. The second attempt is slower, and I can't see the entirety of it from the ground no matter how I crane my neck, but there is no fire and no sounds of a crash, so I'm guessing it went well enough.
Gossan lets out a breath. “Better than it could have been.”
They move to the elevator, and Slate joins them with a, “I’ll make sure they haven't damaged anything important.”
They bicker while going up, and a few minutes later the elevator comes back. I grab Riebeck in a hug the moment they step out, and press in as tight as I can. They laugh, “Um, hi! You’re, uh, you're doing alright?” they pat me on the back.
“I'm so glad you’re okay,” I mumble into their chest.
“Oh, well, um, I'm glad I'm okay too! I saw the Hanging city, from afar, and didn't fall into the black hole! And I’ve got the, um,” they pat their sides and come up empty. “Wait, I need to get some things from the ship! I took photos!”
Riebeck needs to eat and rest after their journey, and I sneak back to the observatory when they’re stammering through the tale of their adventures to Porphy, Gneiss and the hatchlings. Hornfels says that Chert’s still working on Gabbro's ship but that they hope to get it flight worthy in a day. I explain that Slate insisted on checking Riebeck’s ship all over before Gossan can launch, but just as I finish there's the familiar engine noise outside, and they’re off and away. Hornfels calls to make sure their plans haven’t changed, then shoos me out.
Riebeck likes to sleep alone when Gabbro’s not around, but when they notice me hesitating in their doorway, they wave me in. They talk about the meteors and old pottery and weird stones that project places that don’t exist and I stare at the shadows and lights moving across the floor. “Do you think Calcite is okay?” I ask.
I feel the blankets shift behind me. “I came back okay, and they are a better pilot than me,” Riebeck reasons.
“It's their first flight.”
“Well, yes, but, um, they could beat me with a jetpack even before they went to space.”
“What if they bit off more than they could chew? What if they—they promised to take it slow!” It’s hard to breathe, suddenly, or maybe it has been hard the entire time and I’m only noticing it now. “To make sure the translator works and to come back, not immediately run off to—to wherever it is they went!”
“I’m, um. Not sure if Calcite knows what taking it slow means?” There’s a hint of a smile in their voice.
“I swear, if they decided to fly straight into the Quantum Moon or something…” I mumble.
They laugh. “It would be really like them, wouldn’t it? And anyway, if someone could do what even Feldspar hadn’t gotten around—”
“They're not second Feldspar!””
That came out louder than I wanted. I curl up even more, hiding my face in the pillow, and shiver. Everything feels too quiet and too wrong, and I don't know if I can exist in a world that is like this.
“I, uh, I didn't say they were.”
Riebeck puts a hand on my shoulder and I dig my fingers into the blankets before pushing myself up. “Sorry, I didn't mean to—sorry. I'm going to—I need to clear my head.”
Feldspar’s disappearance is an odd memory. I wasn't affected by it like others were—the founders hadn’t announced it, in the beginning, in the first few weeks of uncertainty and growing alarm I could see in Hornfels’ ever extending time in the radio station but no official news. There weren't any trackers back then, and Feldspar had had a habit of leaving for days without checking in. Their disappearance wasn't sudden and clear, and it took Hornfels, Gossan and Slate so long to decide they weren't coming back on their own, and even longer to accept they weren't coming back at all.
Calcite was the one who told me. They’d climbed the observatory and peered through the roof to figure out what secret no-hatchlings-allowed business the founders were discussing, and came back with wide, glassy eyes. “Feldspar’s not coming back,” they whispered and frowned like that didn’t make any sense. On the next day, they sneaked out of the crater and made their way to the ruins before anyone noticed they were missing. It was the worst I'd seen anyone worry about Calcite, but all they did in response to Gossan’s scolding was grin and demand to be properly trained.
I sleep in the observatory, eat in the observatory, stare at the screens in the observatory. Riebeck finds me when they are rested. After I tell them about the lack of news, they shuffle their feet and say, “About that text I found? I thought you’d help me figure out what it means. I’m not sure I understand, there’s something about the Quantum Moon, but beyond that…”
I hesitate, but Hornfels smiles. “Show us what you’ve got.” They catch my glance and add, “Come on, little curator. Nobody can crack that writing half as well as you do.”
We settle on the floor near the radio station, and Riebeck shows me the photos. “The color was not like regular text! Some was orange, not blue! What do you think that means?”
“We’re going to read and see.” I take note of the names first—neither is familiar—and begin the slow process of unweaving the tightly interconnected words into ideas I can understand. Solanum says, they are… somewhere? In the ship? Solanum is in the ship, and Solanum is ready for something, and the other person, Bells, is excited.
“I’m not sure about this word,” I point at the papers I’ve copied the text onto. “Something to Quantum Moon. Journey-alone. Like pilgrimage, maybe? The first one for this Solanum, and Bells is teaching them how to get there?”
“Oh! So the Nomai went to the Quantum Moon?” Riebeck leans over the papers, squinting at them. “You, need, learn… what’s this?”
I check my notes. “Rule. They were studying quantum rules, to go to their pilgrimage. Bells was teaching them. I wonder if they all go there, or if Solanum and Bells were special somehow?”
“Maybe it’s like coming-of-age!” Riebeck suggests.
“Like how hatchlings are hatchlings until they can drink sap wine,” I agree. “And, look, they’re talking about—Tower of, Tower of Quantum Knowledge? That’s where the lessons have to happen, so maybe they have something written down there! If the Nomai know how to land on the Quantum Moon, Calcite would—”
Oh.
“Calcite would be studying every stone there to learn the secret!” Riebeck smiled. “I wonder why the moon was so important to Nomai? They wrote about it a lot. And if their hatchlings weren’t considered adults until they went there, it means it’s even more significant! Maybe it’s somehow connected to where they came from?”
A hand lands on my shoulder and I startle. Hornfels smiles at me, lips tight, and points towards another photo. “What are these…pedestals?”
“Oh, these! They were in the same room as the stone. That’s how I realized you can insert the stone into things! I put it in, and they, they moved, and suddenly—oh, gosh, it looked like I was in a different place suddenly! It wasn’t familiar at all, and I immediately stumbled back and, and, there weren’t any railings, and I thought I’d fall right down—”
Gabbro flies their ship to Timber Hearth two days later, even if it’s slow and they almost crash into the Attlerock when the connections shortcircuit at the worst possible moment. I’m there when they step out of the elevator, still in their full spacesuit. Riebeck ambushes them with an excited, “I found a Nomai projection stone describing their pilgrimage to the Quantum Moon!”
Gabbro freezes, then pats their back in what has to be an incredibly un-Gabbro-like awkward manner. “Woah, buddy, really? In the Hanging City?”
“Well, n-no, I haven’t gotten that far. There was, uh, and then I had to go back because Calcite, um. But I found their, the, uh, the lattice structure!”
“The gravity cannon?” Gabbro suggests.
“Oh! You think that’s what it is?”
“Pretty sure, yeah.”
Slate interrupts them. “Hornfels said you let a cyclone bash your ship against some rocks?”
“I think it was mostly water. Not many rocks on Giant’s Deep.” Gabbro tilts their head to the side, then looks around. It’s hard to tell what they’re looking at with their helmet on.
“And here I am having to fix it up for you either way,” Slate grumbles. “Haven’t I told you not to ruin my hard work for at least a few weeks?”
“Not that I remember.”
“They didn’t mean it, Slate!” Riebeck chimes in.
I muse. “Doesn’t everyone crash their ships, like, all the time?”
“Yeah, right. Now, all of you, either come help or get outta my scales while I work it to something presentable.”
We go to the village proper and on the way Riebeck pokes Gabbro’s side. “You, um, you’re not gonna take your helmet off?”
Gabbro touches its side like they could have forgotten wearing an entire heavy spacesuit. They pull it off and squint at the stars. They look… like Gabbro, I suppose. Not injured. Tired, like someone coming from an adventure on a planet-that-steals-your-ship-with-cyclones, and maybe a little bit dazed, but I’m not sure. They were always a bit hard to read for me. They take a deep breath and note, “Pines smell good.”
“Porphy says they’re going to harvest the next sap portion soon! Says it’s going to be a good year for them.”
“Sure it will.”
Porphy commands Riebeck and I to drag plates to the campfire set up outside Gneiss’ house, while Gneiss gets the fire going. “Two of our pilots safely back! You don’t know me if you think I’ll be missing an opportunity to play together. Come on, hatchling, relaxing a little is good for all, and there’s nothing like a nice homecoming.”
“Not everyone’s back,” I mumble.
“I know, dear,” they sigh. “When hatchling’s back, we’ll throw a proper party, but come sit by the fire until then, won’t you?”
Hornfels doesn’t come, and neither does Slate, and Gossan’s still gone searching every bit of every planet in the entire system. Spinel’s left to try some other fishing spot, and Marl is still with Tektite and Tuff dealing with that seed. Moraine comes, and their signalscope is quickly used to point at Esker. Arkose and Galena run around in some sort of a game I don’t catch the explanations to, Tephra must be with them, and Rutile tries to convince Mica that they shouldn’t do fireworks just now.
Gabbro settles to the side, leaning back on a tree and playing their flute. It’s the same tune I’ve heard from Giant’s Deep, and it feels out of place with the cheerful melody Gneiss drags everyone else into. I sit down next to them, and for long minutes don’t know what to ask. Or, I know what to ask, and I know the answer, and I don’t want to hear it.
“Have you really not seen Calcite?” I manage finally.
They continue on playing as if I haven’t spoken, and I try not to be angry at their refusal to answer or to care. “Nah.” They pause their playing for a moment. “They haven’t wanted to visit me, I suppose.”
I shift. Gabbro is Gabbro, and sometimes it means it’s hard to know what they really feel. “You would have told us if you knew what happened to them, right?”
“Mm. That depends on what happened to them. If that’s something very embarrassing, they might tell me to never share it with anyone. I’d tell everyone then.”
“I just… I don’t understand. Something has to have happened, right? Except that what could have happened! They were having a night out in the woods, there was no time for anything to happen! It’s not like them to take off without even saying goodbye.”
“Is it not?”
“It isn’t,” I insist. I take a breath to add something, even if I don’t know what, but Gneiss calls me and waves me over. They ask about the whistle I’ve been carving, and convince me to try it out. It doesn’t sound well, but both Riebeck and Gneiss join the simple melody I start, and together it might not even be that bad. Gneiss looks it over and gives advice on what I can improve on with the next carving, and by the time I look up, Gabbro’s already gone.
Riebeck worries when they notice. “Gabbro’s Gabbro, they like being alone,” I say, maybe a touch too harshly. Riebeck doesn’t look convinced.
When Tektite returns, they talk about the seed being a bigger problem than they first thought. That’s when I learn it’s from Dark Bramble—you know, the giant vine that grows in place of the planet it devoured. It took root in Timber Hearth, and as much as they tried to get it out, the blasted thing came right back. “We’ll need something stronger than axes for this one,” they finish.
“Give me a couple of days, I’ll assemble something,” Slate says.
Rutile rubs their chin. “Might be one time where an explosion is a good idea, if things are as dire as Tektite says.”
Porphy nudges me in the side and leans in to whisper, “Good thing Gossan’s not hearing this, huh?”
“Two days is a long time for this thing,” Tektite warns, Marl nodding emphatically behind them. We need to contain it somehow until then—just one explosion might not be enough if we don’t.”
And so we do, as many of us as can be spared from the village’s daily duties. I spend the night in the observatory again, and linger before leaving. There haven’t been any news for days. My presence is not going to change whether the news will come or not—whether Calcite is found or not. I can’t do anything to help here, and there’s some catharsis in smacking the blasted plant with all my strength, leaving axe mark after axe mark until another vine falls off.
“It’s the worst seed I’ve seen, I’m telling you,” Marl rambles between their swings. “Might even be worse than that tree. I bet if I chopped that down, it wouldn’t grow right back out. Look! That one’s got an off-shoot already!” I axe the little thing, and they cheer. “Get it like that, yeah, good! Oh, mind the thorns. That tree’s got children all over, too, you know. Half the seeds in the village come from it. Won’t be a loss if I chop it into pieces, is what I’m saying. It’s not as fast as this thing, of course—how’d it get so much energy to grow like this? You’d think it’d run out, like any respectable seed, or try to grow leaves to keep going, but it’s not doing any of that, is it?.. Here’s what I think, it’s eating other things instead of minding its own business like plants should! There, see, where it went into the ground, the grass’s all weird? Oh, my, I don’t think we’ll get berries from that bush either. Must be the vine’s doing. Or maybe it’s getting some of that energy from that endless space inside of it. Who knows what it could hide there, you know? Nothing a good plant should have at all, anyway…”
The explosion makes the ground shake, throwing dirt and stones and what remains of plants, good and bad, in the air. Tuff is the first to find a charred piece of the main seed, I stumble onto another one. It’s a weird, meaty thing, repulsive in everything that it is. There’s white on it, like the weirdness that was inside got condensed into disgusting flowy goo. It drips onto my fingers and I recoil. That’s probably what Calcite means when they insist that liquids feel terrible on their skin. Would’ve made more sense if they hated this kind of liquid, and not just water they were hatched into, but when did Calcite worry about making sense, really?
I stare at the sky every time I should sleep. If there’s a ship coming, I hope I can spot it from here. I hope Hornfels can send a message out if something happens. I hope something happens. I hope…
I imagine Calcite's return the same way I imagined Feldspar's back then: just as sudden as their disappearance, a ship blipping back into existence only to land immediately and safely. They'd grin as they exit the elevator and laugh off every concern like it was ridiculous to worry about them to begin with. They'd tell a story of brushing with danger and coming out of it unscathed. Gossan would shake them, then hug, then scream at them for scaring all their scales off, and Rutile would run them through every medical exam, and Porphy would open the sweetest sap wine they’ve got, and Gneiss would start another homecoming campfire, and all would be right in the world.
When I imagined Feldspar’s return, I thought about Calcite’s smile losing that weird, manic edge it had after they’d learned they were gone. I hoped they would stop laughing so harshly, and fleeing any conversation that started with, “I worry for you,” and holding me tight at night without explaining what’s wrong, and throwing themself headfirst into danger like it wasn’t about fun anymore, like they wanted to repeat Feldspar’s fate.
When I imagine Calcite’s return, I imagine they’d be busy for a while, explaining what they got up to to anyone who would listen until their tongue is heavy with exhaustion. They’d come to our shared cabin, then, and nuzzle into my chest, and breathe out. They’d whisper the same story again, and this time it would be quieter, slower, murmured to stay just between the two of us. They’d tell me about the mosaics on Nomai floors, show the new texts transcribed in bad handwriting (are there Nomai ruins where they’ve gone to?), complain about the damp crumbling walls and geysers that kept spraying them with water (are there geysers? Is there water?), and wonder what it all must have looked like before our ancestors learned to walk on land. They’d fall asleep next to me, and I would know that all was going to be fine.
I don’t know who Feldspar went to when they returned from their adventures, but I know that Calcite has to come back to me. I’m not sure if they’re going to.
Gabbro's ship is fixed and they launch when Slate says they should take it for a test flight. Riebeck comes to listen to them on the radio, and we point the signalscope this and that way until the flute starts its song on the Attlerock.
"Something's wrong," Riebeck worries.
"Haven't they always liked Esker?" Esker had a truly formidable patience when it came to listening to even the densest of Gabbro's theories. "Maybe they came to visit."
"No, it's not—it's not that. Have you noticed, they were acting. I don't know. Off?"
I shrug. I haven't talked to Gabbro much since their return. I've seen them around sometimes, and heard them around more often. Slate complained about them being of no help with fixing their own ship. Riebeck kept taking two portions of food and disappearing with them in the direction of the flute. I suppose if anyone would know that something was wrong, it'd be them.
"Maybe they're worried too," I wonder aloud. "They weren't that close to Calcite, but..."
"Oh! That, yeah, um, that could be it."
I don't take Riebeck's ability to forget, if just for a bit, personally. They told me about the dream they had soon after Calcite's launch—of a campfire in the woods, and all the travelers gathered around it. "We were going to play," they said. "One last time, before—before something happened. I think it was going to be something bad, but I, um, I wasn't scared. Just a little sad, like it was a goodbye, like the, the opposite of homecoming? We played all together, and Calcite, they, they watched us. And then they turned away and left, and, and I thought: well, that's, um, that's not right. They shouldn't do that. And then I woke up on Brittle Hollow, and I thought, what an odd dream! And as I kept thinking that, Hornfels called, and, um."
If you listen to Riebeck, it's like Calcite went out of their way to say goodbye to them, even if just in a dream. Apparently, I didn't matter enough for even a dream appearance, leave alone a real one.
Chert stops searching all too soon, and I try not to scream that they can't just give up when they report to Hornfels. "I'm going back to Ember Twin after another refuel," they say. "There's something really weird happening with the stars. I thought the supernovae I saw were just a fluke, a weird luck, spotting three in the same day! But they keep going off. We'll need to rerun our calculations. Maybe something's wrong with how we tell their age?"
All stars can go out for all that I care, but I don't say that.
Porphy’s in the cemetery, humming as they work on getting sap from a pine that looks like it might not even be old enough to stomach the resulting wine. There's a stone tangled in its roots, carved with uneven letters and weathered from the change of seasons. I freeze, wanting to turn and walk away, but they notice me and smile. "Ah, Hal! Come to help me?"
"I didn't know you were here." I come closer, brushing my fingers on Larimar's grave. I remember them, if barely—they'd sit me up on their lap when I was still learning to talk, and sing and name everything I pointed at until I got restless and ran off. Hornfels says they taught me that "blasted" meant "something you really like", and laughed when I swore at everything and everyone after that. They died only a few weeks before Calcite hatched. I remember the other names, but not who they were before they became trees and carved stones.
Porphy watches me. "Wanted some quiet?" They guess. I shrug. "I often come here when the village gets too much. Well, it hasn't been so quiet here lately. Gabbro always knows how to find the best hiding spots, and Slate dislikes coming here enough to give them even more reasons to choose this place. They can be good company, though, for when you want quiet. Say, hatchling, has something happened to them in space?"
"Some cyclones on Giant's Deep." I frown. "Did they act... off?"
"Hard to tell, with that one." They brush the bark in thought, then smile. "Hey, hatchling, has someone shown you how to tap trees yet?"
"Isn't this one too small?"
"Just big enough to be safe. Vish, the old sap, made me promise I'd tap their tree as soon as I could. Make sure I don't get better than them before their batch. Said they'd come to fan the ghost matter if I made it too sweet, ha! Joke’s on them, I think I've mastered my methods by now anyway."
"I'm sure they'll find your wine to be perfectly below their criteria," I smile.
"Oh, hush. The challenge is part of the fun!"
They show me how to make a hole just right until the sap starts dripping through and into the bucket they secure around the trunk, and I think about how odd it is that the most recent grave is from long enough ago that a tree planted on top of it can already be tapped. It's not expected to stay like this for long. Tektite and Spinel keep arguing who'd go feed the earth next, and each is determined to outlive the other, and both are doing great at that. Rutile says they'd be first, done by the next explosion, and Gneiss laughs that they can't say that because who else would stop the hatchlings (they call the founders hatchlings, still, and I don't think they'll ever stop) from setting the entire village ablaze? Gneiss plans to live forever, or at least until nobody wants to make music anymore, and that's just another way to say the same thing. One day, they all will be resting in the roots and grass, feeding the world that fed them. We all will, one day, and someone might come to test the sap made on my bones.
"Is it weird," I ask, "that Feldspar never got a grave?"
They look at me for a long time. "Gossan didn't want it. They..." Porphy shakes their head. "It's hard to move on from something like this. Harder than when you expect it and have time to prepare." They brush the bark and smile at the tree, then sigh. "We know what to do when someone dies on Timber Hearth. What to do when someone was ill before death or when they weren't, and what plants and songs help them move on after death. Nobody knew how to approach a death with no body. Nobody knows."
I'm silent and they hesitate, mull over something before reaching to take my hand. They speak, carefully, slowly, like they're afraid the words aren't words but sharp thorns, ready to pierce and rip through. "Would you want Calcite to have a gravestone?"
They pierce and rip, and in the blood I'm hit with an image—a stone, carved with letters that spell a familiar name, but there's no body underneath, and no chance of their return. There are trees, and grass, and berries ripening with the change of season, and they aren't there. There are texts Riebeck brings back and pottery shards, and a path to the Quantum Moon found and made real, and Calcite's not there to walk it. There are sunsets and sunrises, carved whistles and tasty food, there's music and campfires, sap wine and the dance of planets, there's all of it, the entire universe, except for one missing piece. My whole life, except they won't be there to live it with me.
"Shh, shhhh, hatchling, it's okay, I've got you," Porphy says, and I don't remember when their arms moved to wrap around me, or when I started sobbing. I wail into their chest, clinging tight, and they stroke patterns into the skin of my neck. "I know, I know, little one. You don't have to answer. Shhhh, you're okay."
"It's not fair," I manage through trembling sobs.
"It's not, hatchling. It's so, so unfair. It hurts so much when those who have so much longer to live have to leave early."
"They're not—I don't know if they're dead," I sob, and beg the universe that they aren’t. "I don't know if they're coming back."
"And it's worse, isn't it?" They whisper.
I don’t know if it’s worse, but I know that it hurts so, so much.
Gossan comes to refuel and leaves even before I learn of their visit. Hornfels talks to them on the radio, and they say they’re going to Dark Bramble. Nobody has ever gone there, which means it’s the only place nobody has searched. Hornfels tries to say it’s dangerous, and they don’t listen, and then the radio cuts off as their signal doubles, triples, showing like they’re in the dark bramble and in three separate places on Timber Hearth. Hornfels is pacing in circles when I bring them hot drinks, and we sit together, listening to the silence.
“It’s bad there,” is all Gossan says through the radio when they’re back as suddenly as they disappeared. Hornfels tells them to come home, and I imagine they grit their teeth as they say, “I can’t.”
Their ship’s trajectory is weird on the map, uneven like they might have crashed. “Your death won’t bring them back,” Hornfels says.
“I can’t give up on them, Fels. I can’t. Not again.”
“And I can’t lose you too. Don’t you understand?”
Their ship limps to Timber Hearth and lands heavily, tilting to one side with the landing gear taken clean off. Slate doesn’t yell at them for damaging a good ship. Gossan doesn’t yell at them for not designing the ship better. I stay in the observatory, staring at the radio that won’t come to life with any news, because nobody’s searching anymore.
Nobody’s searching.
Riebeck’s going to have their ship again soon, and they talk about what they plan to do. They’re going back, and this time they’ll be braver and more prepared, and they’ll go to the Hanging City, and bring back everything they can. It’s a pity they won’t have a translator with them. Have I thought, perhaps, about creating another one? They shut up when they see my face, and when later I’m staring at the pages and pages of paper, notes sprawling in Calcite's bad handwriting, schematics of the tool I can’t possibly make alone, Hornfels sits near me, and hugs me as I cry into their chest. There’s no rush, they say. I don’t have to do this at all if I can’t.
“They had food for a month,” I whisper.
Their grip tightens when they hear, and I know they know what I mean. “Yeah.”
It’s early in both of our days when Gabbro’s ship moves across the map and disappears. Hornfels stares at the point where it just was, pale and wide eyed. They stare at me. There’s an eternity where I can’t move, can’t think, with only one thought pulsing through my entire being: not again. Then they say, “Get Gossan,” and I’m running.
I can’t get through the explanation without stumbling over words. I’m crying, and all that comes out is “they’re gone”, over, and over, and over. Porphy covers their mouth in silent horror. Gneiss asks, “Who?”
“Gabbro,” I finally manage, and that gets Gossan moving as fast as I did a moment ago.
“...DISAPPEAR!” I hear even before I climb up the stairs. “SHIPS AREN’T SUPPOSED TO JUST DISAPPEAR!”
“Esker hasn’t seen them crash,” Hornfels says. Their eyes are still wide and hollow. They stare at the map, but I’m not sure if they’re seeing anything. “They would have noticed if Gabbro went to the planet—they didn’t. There’s nothing at their last location. It’s just off Attlerock’s orbit, there’s—”
“Quantum Moon?”
“...It wasn’t anywhere near when—”
“It wasn’t anywhere near Calcite, I know, but was it here?”
Hornfels blinks. They check. They breathe, “Yes!”
Gossan turns on their hills. “I’m going to hunt down that blasted rock.”
“Wait! You know it’s impossible to land on it, when Feldspar tried—”
“I DON’T CARE.”
It’s quiet in the observatory. It’s quiet in the observatory. It’s quiet in the observatory. It’s quiet—
Gabbro returns as suddenly as they disappeared, blips into existence, and when I come running down the path their ship’s already touching down. Slate’s the only one already there. They look bad. They wring their hands and crane their neck up. The elevator doesn’t come. It feels like minutes, hours, months, even if the sun still hasn’t come out. The wind carries voices from above, but nothing I can hear enough to understand.
Slate wonders if they should go up and drag Gabbro back down themself, when finally, finally there’s movement. Slate steps forward grimly, waiting at the tower with their arms crossed. The elevator comes down, and Gabbro—
No. I expect it to be Gabbro, and it takes me too long to realize the spacesuit isn’t the same. I get stuck wondering whose it is. Gossan? But no, theirs is shorter, and, the scarf wrapped around their neck, it’s not like anything I’ve—
“Calcite?” Slate croaks, and, oh. Right. They wore this suit, didn’t they? They practiced in it. I watched them practice. I watched them return from their practice flight with Gossan, dressed like this. I watch them walk out of the elevator and brush past Slate, and freeze the moment they see me. Tilt their head to the side.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
It’s the voice that does it. Hoarse and accusatory, but familiar, and I thought I wouldn’t hear it again, and I thought I would never see them again, and I don’t know if it’s real, if they came to say goodbye in a dream, if they’re going to disappear again, and I don’t care. I launch forward and hug them tight. “Idiot”, I want to say, and “you scared me”, and “how”, and “why”, and “what happened?”
They are stiff under my arms. They feel solid. They don’t return the hug. They laugh, and it sounds wrong. They say, “Yeah. I’m not dealing with this,” push away, and with a short burst of fire from their thrusters, they’re gone.