meters the slope became a sheer face of obsidian ice, reflecting darkly. Deep in the ice, dim shapes shifted.
I jumped, too hard, almost overshooting. The far side of the ridge—a sheer fall straight to the plain—opened out beneath me. Wheeling, I caught the edge and hung there, lying across the ridge. Around me a desolate dark plain, broken by the scars of the station and the pit; above me only sky.
I found the dark bulk of Charon, a shadowy absence of stars. Far away over my shoulder hung the sun, a star so bright it seemed a flaw in the blackness, a breach through which the blaze beyond glared through. The empyrean. The primum mobile . Death.
Blind, I turned away. Stars swarmed out of darkness, the galaxy a ghost slanting down to the horizon. There was the Scorpion; over the plain knelt Hercules. I remembered the old story how he wrestled Death at the doorway. And how Death demanded justice.
I reached up, started to fumble with the seal at my collar. Something in the sky arrested me. I saw a shape move there: great chestnut wings spread wide, descending. I turned my face to the ice of the ridge, and found a face pressed close to mine. Not here, it whispered. Not ever. I saw a silver bowl held overhead, a row of candles flickering. Mud squelching under a booted foot, a pair of eggs sputtering in a pan, the underside of a car’s engine, dripping oil. I cried out, my voice smothered in the helmet as images multiplied everywhere. I cried again and they vanished, leaving only darkness.
Before they could return I seized the darkness and wrung it, hard, forcing my own will upon it. I called back that face pressed close to mine. I made it mobile, lit the cold stone of it, softened it, warmed it, calling the blood to her cheeks. What had she heard? Something I had said to her, softly the ears warm now as well, pliable against my lips, my breath moistening them as I whispered—what? She turns, and in her marble lips blood flushes, they part, and out of them I hear—what? Words, in answer to mine, but as I forced the darkness into her image, I could hear no sound.
The image of her wavered, darkening into the greater gloom of Charon: I clutched at it until it came closer, cleared. There are trees pierced through by sunlight: sun and shadow dappling her skin, where beads of water stand. We have been swimming, we are on a beach, she lies on a faded blue towel. I can feel the nub of it beneath my hands. I focus on the beads of water, each lit from within by the sun that pours over us. She lies back on the towel, there is surf crashing nearby and she reaches up, shades her eyes, and reaches—there is a shudder in the ridge at my back, a rumbling far away, great blocks of ice break free and tumble down the scarp. The ice has shifted, broken by the shuddering in me. Broken by her as she reaches toward me and now we shatter: the ice opens, the sky cracks, the bonds of Death are broken. Everything hidden will reveal itself, brought out of emptiness against the power of the darkness and the ice.
Nothing was revealed. The shuddering died away and in the sky the light fainted. I brought her back again: sharper now, the edge of her distinct, the shape of shoulder where I have lain my cheek, the smell that rises from her, the motion of her as she turns, the eyebrows lifting: I seize her there. A fire has burned down to embers on the hearth, outside the window it is dark, the wind is blowing, snow eddies, settling on the sill. I see her rise, she is walking toward a door which opens on a morning late in Spring. At the curb a car is waiting, engine idling, she turns and speaks—
And fades. She fades. I struggled but against the empty sky were only stars, and a red light pulsing on my helmet display. Oxygen @15% .
The sky was empty. Charon had not moved. The sun slumped toward the horizon. The plain was darker.
I stood upon the ridge and looked down on Eleusis. Even
I jumped, too hard, almost overshooting. The far side of the ridge—a sheer fall straight to the plain—opened out beneath me. Wheeling, I caught the edge and hung there, lying across the ridge. Around me a desolate dark plain, broken by the scars of the station and the pit; above me only sky.
I found the dark bulk of Charon, a shadowy absence of stars. Far away over my shoulder hung the sun, a star so bright it seemed a flaw in the blackness, a breach through which the blaze beyond glared through. The empyrean. The primum mobile . Death.
Blind, I turned away. Stars swarmed out of darkness, the galaxy a ghost slanting down to the horizon. There was the Scorpion; over the plain knelt Hercules. I remembered the old story how he wrestled Death at the doorway. And how Death demanded justice.
I reached up, started to fumble with the seal at my collar. Something in the sky arrested me. I saw a shape move there: great chestnut wings spread wide, descending. I turned my face to the ice of the ridge, and found a face pressed close to mine. Not here, it whispered. Not ever. I saw a silver bowl held overhead, a row of candles flickering. Mud squelching under a booted foot, a pair of eggs sputtering in a pan, the underside of a car’s engine, dripping oil. I cried out, my voice smothered in the helmet as images multiplied everywhere. I cried again and they vanished, leaving only darkness.
Before they could return I seized the darkness and wrung it, hard, forcing my own will upon it. I called back that face pressed close to mine. I made it mobile, lit the cold stone of it, softened it, warmed it, calling the blood to her cheeks. What had she heard? Something I had said to her, softly the ears warm now as well, pliable against my lips, my breath moistening them as I whispered—what? She turns, and in her marble lips blood flushes, they part, and out of them I hear—what? Words, in answer to mine, but as I forced the darkness into her image, I could hear no sound.
The image of her wavered, darkening into the greater gloom of Charon: I clutched at it until it came closer, cleared. There are trees pierced through by sunlight: sun and shadow dappling her skin, where beads of water stand. We have been swimming, we are on a beach, she lies on a faded blue towel. I can feel the nub of it beneath my hands. I focus on the beads of water, each lit from within by the sun that pours over us. She lies back on the towel, there is surf crashing nearby and she reaches up, shades her eyes, and reaches—there is a shudder in the ridge at my back, a rumbling far away, great blocks of ice break free and tumble down the scarp. The ice has shifted, broken by the shuddering in me. Broken by her as she reaches toward me and now we shatter: the ice opens, the sky cracks, the bonds of Death are broken. Everything hidden will reveal itself, brought out of emptiness against the power of the darkness and the ice.
Nothing was revealed. The shuddering died away and in the sky the light fainted. I brought her back again: sharper now, the edge of her distinct, the shape of shoulder where I have lain my cheek, the smell that rises from her, the motion of her as she turns, the eyebrows lifting: I seize her there. A fire has burned down to embers on the hearth, outside the window it is dark, the wind is blowing, snow eddies, settling on the sill. I see her rise, she is walking toward a door which opens on a morning late in Spring. At the curb a car is waiting, engine idling, she turns and speaks—
And fades. She fades. I struggled but against the empty sky were only stars, and a red light pulsing on my helmet display. Oxygen @15% .
The sky was empty. Charon had not moved. The sun slumped toward the horizon. The plain was darker.
I stood upon the ridge and looked down on Eleusis. Even
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