Chapter 11: Chert
"Have you lost your mind?" Chert darts forward and catches Gabbro's arm, a second too late. Feldspar's signalscope glances off the rubble and clatters to the ground. The roots don't move, but that doesn't stop Riebeck from making a strangled sound and edging toward the tunnel entrance.
"That jerk." Gabbro's voice is barely recognisable, sandpaper-thin and shaking with… what? Grief? Rage? Or sheer exhaustion? Chert tugs on their arm, but it's as if they don't even feel it. "It wasn't supposed to end like this."
Oh, no. Chert's never been good at Feelings. They've been biting their tongue for the past few hours, watching as Gabbro runs themself ragged, lest they quench that tiny spark of hope. But it's all been for naught, and now they're going to have to be cruel.
They swallow the sob that threatens to claw its way out of their throat. "Gabbro, listen. It's not safe here. There's nothing we can do for Feldspar now." No, don't think about what that means, or the Feldspar-shaped hole left in the world. Don't you dare. Gabbro needs you.
They half-expect Gabbro to argue, to insist on staying. To, stars forbid, try to dig up that pile of rock with only their hands. But the fight seems to have leached out of them as suddenly as it arrived. They allow Chert to lead them out of the tunnel.
By some unspoken agreement they leave the dreadful mine behind them, with its poison and its barren soil and its broken unidentifiable contraptions, and return to the forest. The trees are a comforting presence, even in the dark. One by one, the astronauts remove their helmets and sink to the leaf-covered ground. There's a distinct chill in the air now. Chert barely feels it through their exhaustion.
"What are we gonna do?" Riebeck says into their hands. Chert doesn't have an answer for that.
"The only thing we can do," Gabbro croaks. They don't seem angry anymore, merely resigned. "We pick ourselves up and finish the mission."
"But without Feldspar-"
"Feldspar's gone," Gabbro says flatly, dropping their helmet beside them with a clunk. "I thought we could… I don't know what I thought. But I was wrong. I dragged you both out here for nothing."
"Gabbro!" Chert hisses as Riebeck's face crumples.
"It's the truth, Chert. This is what we do, isn't it? Whatever Feldspar does, everyone else goes along for the ride. And then people get hurt."
"Stop it."
"You don't mean that," Chert says, aghast.
"Don't I?" Gabbro's hand has drifted to their hearts, resting on top of the fabric of their space suit. "I've seen it happen, over and over. And I might just be the biggest sucker of all."
"STOP IT!" Riebeck roars. Chert and Gabbro stare back at them, stunned into silence. It's a long time before anyone speaks again.
"Stars, Riebeck. I'm sorry," Gabbro says, stricken. "I'm not thinking straight. Of course I don't mean-"
"Just stop." Riebeck hauls themself upright, ears flat. "We should make camp." They start to stomp away through the trees.
Chert scrambles to their feet, Gabbro close behind. "Riebeck, wait! Don't go off alone!" With mounting alarm they stumble after their friend, feet catching on unseen, grasping things in the dark. If Riebeck wanted to lose them it wouldn't take much. They have the bulk to make a path amidst the dense undergrowth. But they stay within sight of Chert's torch.
Still, they don't look back.
·◊◊◊·
They build a campfire without speaking. Cold starlight, offering little in the way of comfort, fuzzes the edges of the little clearing they've found. They eat the food they've brought with them mechanically, tasting nothing. Chert wants nothing more than to wrap themself in their blanket and shut their eyes. Perhaps they'll wake up on board the Traveler. Perhaps everything that's happened is nothing more than a horrible nightmare. It's a hopeful thought, but it doesn't last long. Chert's never been one for wishful thinking.
On the opposite side of the fire, they can see the humped shape of Riebeck beneath their thin blanket, curled up on the ground with their back to them. The sight makes their hearts ache, so they focus their attention on checking over Gabbro. Their eyes are still a little bloodshot, but it's their breathing that worries Chert the most.
"Breathe in."
"I am."
"No, like normal." Chert hovers close, watching as Gabbro's chest expands. They only get so far before wincing and collapsing into a fit of rattling coughs.
"What's the prognosis?" they rasp, when they can talk again.
"Honestly? I… don't know." Chert sits back on their heels, anxiously kneading their knees. "I mean, I'm pretty sure you'll live."
"Reassuring."
"As long as you get some rest."
Gabbro's lip twitches ruefully. "Yeah. I'm sorry for dragging you out here."
"Nonsense. I came because I wanted to." And because, against all reason, that spark of hope had been infectious.
"And for that, uh, little display earlier."
"Yes, well." Chert sniffs. "I'm not the one you need to apologize to." Gabbro looks away, and they can't help but add, more softly, "You… were talking about Sphale, weren't you?"
Gabbro goes very still.
"What makes you say that?" they say evenly.
"I overheard you and Feldspar, in the tower."
"Ah."
Funny, how one syllable can carry so much meaning. The weight of it presses down on Chert until they blurt, "You blame them, don't you? For what happened to your sibling."
Gabbro utters a quiet laugh. "I… yeah. Maybe. I don't know. Sphale worshiped the ground Feldspar walked on. Would they have volunteered to test those rockets if they hadn't spurred them on? Would they have even signed up for the space program?"
"Feldspar… had that effect on people." Had. The past tense hits hard. Fearless, inspiring, irascible, maddening, brilliant Feldspar, gone. Chert's hearts squeeze painfully, and - oh no, they're crying. In front of Gabbro, how embarrassing. They try to pull themself together, but now they've started, it's like holding back a waterfall. They scrub at their cheeks furiously. "Ugh, I'm sorry."
There's no scorn in Gabbro's tone. Only… concern, which just completes Chert's humiliation. "For what? Grieving your friend?"
"Yes!" Chert hiccups. "Well, no - I mean, I'd hoped - I thought I could - I'm supposed to be the rational one, blast it!" They throw their hands up crossly. "I'm doing this all wrong."
"Aw, no. C'mere." Gabbro shakes out their blanket and scoots closer, draping it across Chert's shoulders. They draw the other half around themself. It's a squeeze, with both of them still in their space suits, but their presence at Chert's side is a comfort nonetheless.
"There's no right or wrong way to feel, Chert. You're still in shock. And, in case you haven't noticed," Gabbro lowers their voice, "the rest of us aren't holding it together too well, either."
"I don't think I can do this without you," Chert admits. "You've always been the one to hold the rest of us up, when things go wrong. Like a… a… something sturdy. You know I'm not good with words."
"A Hearthoak?"
"Yes, exactly! And we need that right now, more than ever." Chert's fingers tighten around the blanket. "I need it. It's selfish to ask this of you, but…"
"Hey." Gabbro nudges them softly with their elbow. "It's okay. I get it. From now on, we take care of each other. Right, Riebeck?" they say across the clearing, when Riebeck stirs and sits up. They don't seem to have heard Gabbro. They stare out at the darkened forest.
A ripple of unease travels down Chert's spine. "Um, Riebeck? What's-"
"Shh!" Riebeck's hand shoots up, cutting them off. When they turn back, their wide eyes reflect the flickering firelight. "Don't you two hear that?"
·◊◊◊·
"Riebeck! Slow down!"
Riebeck ducks under branches and weaves between the trees, following no trail that Chert can make out. They show no sign of slowing, let alone stopping. All Chert can do is try to keep up, treading where Gabbro treads in the hopes the taller Hearthian can flatten any particularly spiky plants before they get to them. They can still feel things snagging on their suit.
"I can't even tell where we are anymore," Chert pants. "Everything looks the same."
Riebeck barely glances over their shoulder. "We're getting close."
Close to what? Chert wants to ask, but they can hear it now too; a faint but unmistakable hum in the air, like the waspish feeling before a thunderstorm. And a light, up ahead.
All of a sudden, Riebeck's footsteps falter, and Gabbro and Chert narrowly manage not to run straight into them. Before them lies the source of the light.
"It's a…"
It's a root.
A healthy one, easily as thick as Gabbro is tall, twisting its way among the trees. Through cracks in its bark it glows golden. Distantly, Chert knows they should be terrified - a root that size could squash them into pulp - but something about the light is soothing. And that hum in the air is stronger here, a physical presence.
Tha-thump.
The root pulsates slowly, and the noise hits Chert right in the sternum. Riebeck lets out a gasp, and reaches out to place a gloved hand on its rough surface.
"I feel it," they murmur, their voice filled with wonder. "I can feel the sap flowing through it."
Now that Chert knows what to look for, they can see other lights glimmering out there in the dark. More roots. But… where are they going? They must lead somewhere; any hatchling could work out that much. And, suddenly, so fiercely that it hurts, all they want is to follow that song, to find out where it's coming from. Goosebumps rise on their arms. When they look back at the others, a silent understanding passes between them.
In reverent silence the three astronauts follow the root - and its haunting song - deeper into the forest, accompanied by that slow but steady heartbeat. Here the trees grow more thickly, the undergrowth more lush. Yet Chert and the others find themselves stepping more lightly, taking care not to trample any of the unfamiliar plants underfoot. It feels wrong, somehow, to damage the beauty of their surroundings.
After a while, Chert realizes they don't need their torchlight to see by anymore. A light up ahead limns the trees in gold. It grows stronger as they approach, until they emerge into a vast glade, lit from within and painted in fiery daylight colours. The mossy ground gives way to a deep, sheer hole. Here a great convergence of those pulsating roots disappears over the edge, intertwining in their descent.
And the song.
It rises and falls in time with the roots' heartbeat. It tugs at something deep within Chert's chest. A hollow ache, like homesickness, like distant memories, fills them. It makes them want to run away as fast as they can, but at the same time stay here in this glade forever. Slowly, with painstaking care, they approach the hole and peer over the edge. Deep amidst the knot of roots, somewhere near the bottom, is the source of that warm glow - a core of golden light, a miniature star.
Tha-thump.
The light swells and fades in time with the roots, and the song.
"Oh, my stars," Chert breathes.
"They're all connected," says Riebeck, at their side. There's a minute crease between their eyes, their expression thoughtful. "The forest, these roots…" they sigh, eyes filling with tears. "I wish Feldspar could have seen this."
A weak, tinny sound rises over the glade's song. Chert wrinkles their nose in annoyance, but then stops dead as their blood goes cold. Beside them, Gabbro and Riebeck freeze.
"Did you hear-"
"Is that-"
No. No, it can't be. But Chert would recognize that sound anywhere. How many countless nights have they spent listening to it from a cozy chair, or beside a blazing campfire beneath the stars? Hearts drumming against their ribs, they cast around for the source of the sound. Breathy notes pick out a familiar melody, the words echoing in Chert's head, unbidden; way down in the grove where the waspnettles bite…
They don't notice the figure, hidden amidst a jumble of moss and leaves, until they - quite literally - stumble over them. They pull themself up with a gasp, taking in the familiar scarred face, the dirt-streaked space suit, the discarded helmet.
Feldspar raises their head weakly, the harmonica tumbling from their fingers. The blood caking their bottom lip cracks as they bare their teeth in a smile.
"Took y'all long enough," they croak.