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In a distant and unfamiliar star system, on a planet viciously attacked by its own moon, a small group of stranded Nomai work to build a means of survival. It has been multiple revolutions since they crashed here; resolutely, they try not to think about what this means for their friends who have yet to contact them. They build bridges and small homes underneath the crust of the planet. They peer down at the black hole -- curiosity does not waver, even in tragedy. All the while the frequency from their distress signal hums in the back of their minds, waiting, searching, endless.
Eventually the group decides to move. The volcanic moon poses far too great a threat to the structural integrity of their settlement. A safer area is found underneath the north pole of the planet and gravity crystals are forged out of the unique mineral deposits found within the crust. The path is built in three rotations. Everyone is relieved to migrate away from the constant quakes.
Almost everyone, anyway. Filix counts heads as the survivors begin their march up the wall and along the ceiling, and frowns underneath her mask when her number comes up one short.
Filix calls for Thatch, her voice a raspy peal. The envoy, who was taking up the rear of the line, turns around at the sound of his name. Noticing Filix has not yet joined the pack, he types quickly on his communication tablet. Glyphs appear in a spiral on the wall he stands on.
“Is something the matter?”
Filix types her response, and a secondary spiral branches out of the first. “Have you seen Kousa?” she inquires.
Thatch pauses, thinking. His head is level with hers, although he stands sideways in relation to her position, his feet on the dark rock of the wall beside her. It makes for an amusing sight when he tilts his head. “No. She is not with Plume in the front?”
“She is not,” Filix confirms. “Do not worry, I believe I know where she is. Continue; we will catch up to everyone later.”
“Be safe, then,” Thatch says. Filix turns away from the migrating pack and heads up unstable bridges, past warnings and old conversations written into the walls, and onto the barren surface of the planet.
There are many uncertainties Filix holds about this planet. Without an atmosphere, it cannot protect itself from the harmful rays of the sun. The small pockets of oxygen provided by the few native trees they found have been paramount to their survival -- however, all of Smilax’s attempts at propagation have been unsuccessful. And, of course, the greatest threat to the group’s longevity: the planet’s volcanic moon.
It looms just above the curved horizon, glowing with fiery malice as it steadily approaches her position. Scowling, Filix quickly walks towards the ultraviolet beam of the distress beacon. If she is right and Kousa is there, they will not have long to talk.
Kousa is, in fact, at the beacon. She sits underneath a gnarled tree, staring into the blue light as it reaches into the black sky. The distress frequency is loudest here, for obvious reasons. It thrums around in Filix’s skull, purposefully disconcerting, although Kousa seems unperturbed. She has removed her mask, breathing the fresh oxygen of the grove despite the chill.
Filix sits next to her. The other does not look at her. There are no walls here, so she communicates on the ground: “Are you alright?”
It takes a minute for her company to respond. When she does, the symbols emerge slowly, as if distracted: “I am uninjured.”
“In that case, please return with me to the settlement. The migration has begun.”
“I will make it to the north pole in time.”
“That time must be soon. The moon approaches.”
Kousa looks up at the sky, posture shifting to alertness at the sight of a nearby falling meteor before slumping back into its natural rest. “Forgive me, but I will take my chances. I wish to be alone.”
Were it anyone else, Filix would have left them to their own devices. Thatch could handle himself, even if he were to fall into the black hole; Plume is rational and cautious enough to make it to the north pole on his own. Any of the others in the group (except, of course, the children) would be trusted to return to the settlement shortly. But this was Kousa, who was young and often reckless, who was handling the dying of the Vessel and separation from their clan worse than even small Privet. So Filix stays, and Kousa surprisingly does not protest.
Loud crashes sound from a distance away as meteors collide with the surface. Filix tries not to jump as she waits for Kousa to communicate.
Eventually, Kousa lets out a soft huff and types on her tablet: “I am beginning to accept that our friends may be gone forever.”
Filix looks at her in surprise. Her expression is grave, all three eyes watching the harsh light of the beacon. “That is not true. Escape Pod 2 landed on one of the twin planets; surely there are survivors.”
“I am not concerned about Annona’s group. He is a good leader, he will keep them safe. You know that I am referring to our friends trapped in that dreadful place,” Kousa points up into the sky at the -- the not-planet, the wreck, the catastrophe. Its orbital path was aligning with their own, allowing Filix to see nearly into its foggy depths. Twisting, horrible roots holding up a broken ice crust seem to reach for her. She feels her fur stand on end.
“There is a chance that they survived,” Filix says, not really believing it. Kousa does not take the comfort for what it is.
“That chance is miniscule at best.”
Filix does not know how to respond. She’s right, after all.
Kousa suddenly puts her face in her hands. Filix winces, knowing that her wrist is still sprained from the crash and that amount of pressure must be causing her a great deal of pain. Still, she does not move until Filix rests a weary hand on her shoulder. Only then does Kousa look up at her, as if trying to make eye contact through the mask. Kousa’s own eyes are brimming with unshed tears. The sight makes Filix’s hearts ache.
Kousa types: “I am losing hope that Foli is still here. I do not know what to do without her.”
There are many things Filix wants to say. “Don’t give up”, “You are not alone”, “There are many things we do not know for sure.” None of them suffice. Instead, she takes off her own mask and pulls her friend close into her side.
“Survive,” Filix says. “Just survive.”
Kousa grips Filix in a tight hug and cries.
Filix thinks of Annona. When the Vessel crashed, Filix tried to guide the evacuation procedure, hurrying passengers into the Pods and looking out for injured or slower Nomai. There was only one more space in Pod 1 when Annona pushed her inside and sealed the door. It was only by chance that she saw him enter Pod 2. She wonders if he is okay on the twin planet, being that close to the star. Who else made it onto that escape pod? Escall? Melorae? Keek?
Oh, Keek. She thinks of poor Plume. With child, but without his lover or his brother. Even still, he is bravely leading the colony to the northern glacier. A valiant friend and clever leader; Filix expects great things from his child.
She rests awhile with Kousa sobbing into her shoulder, and does not speak until her breaths steady and those mournful bleats quiet. The moon comes and goes without aiming towards them. The second moon, the friendly one, appears and disappears in a blink. She wishes to don her mask against the cold, so she gently pushes Kousa off and types: “We must go. They will worry.”
Kousa sniffs once and nods, putting on her own mask. “Let us go, then.”
They catch up to the rest of the group at the northern glacier. Plume was already using a pickaxe on the ice, instructing others to bring over a plank of wood. Thatch notices their arrival and hurries to them, typing on his tablet.
“You are here!” he writes on a nearby wall, “I was preparing to go search for you.”
Kousa looks like she is about to apologize, so Filix puts a hand on her arm and replies, “Kousa had the good idea to check the Pod for any extra supplies before we moved away from it. Luckily, it seems we already have everything.”
“Clever, Kousa!” Thatch compliments, earnest as always. “In that case, I am going to go help Plume with leading construction. The structural integrity in this area is far more stable than our previous location, thankfully.” He walks off with a nod.
Filix is about to join him when Kousa stops her. She types something on her tablet, pauses, and drops it in favor of pulling Filix into a tight hug.
Filix, taken aback, almost doesn’t return the hug. When her brain catches up to her, she wraps her arms around her young friend. She tries to convey without words her sympathy, her understanding, her grief. Kousa just squeezes tighter.
When they step back, all traces of Kousa’s previous melancholy is gone. She holds her head up high and walks over to where Privet and the other children are trying to organize tools, typing out a playful scolding on their lack of method.
Filix wonders about their future. These children, will they have to grow up here? Will Plume’s child ever know the rest of their clan? Will she ever see Annona again?
She hopes so.