holds up two skinned possums with a wide smile.
“Got them from the traps,” she says, and with no further ado she begins preparing the meat for roasting.
We press on as soon as our breakfast is over, but the lightness in the morning sky turned out to be a false hope. By noon, it’s clear there’s a storm bearing down on us. The wind picks up, the temperature continues to drop, and a light flurry swirls around us. We stop to pull out extra layers from our packs and then keep going, battling against the stinging wind as the wayfarer pushes us forward.
“No choice but to push through the night now!” she shouts as evening closes in on us. “We’re less than five kilometers from the base. You can do it!” she howls at Firestone, who looks murderous. Jahnu and I had taken turns with his pack earlier, but Firestone insisted he do his part and had taken it back. Now, it’s clear he needs to give it up again.
“Here,” I say. “My turn to carry your pack.” Firestone doesn’t argue this time, but instead of me taking the full load, Kenzie suggests we split up the weight. She empties Firestone’s stuff, divides it into three piles, and then jams the contents in our packs. “We can leave your pack here, hide it in the leaves.”
“This is as good a place as any to rest a bit,” our guide says. “Might as well finish off our rations.” Huddled together and shivering, we polish off what’s left of the possum. Then she takes Firestone’s empty pack and disappears into the darkness. It’s no time at all before she returns with a set of little lamps, five warming packs, and a packet of dried fruit and nuts that, for all I know, she could have teleported from an Outsider camp. She hands each of us a warming pack and we crack them, releasing the energy, and tuck them under our clothes.
“There’re only three lamps, so you’ll have to share,” she says. “But they’ll help guide us as we walk. We have emergency drop points for supplies in case one of our wayfarers ends up in a bad spot, like this one. I left the extra pack there. It’ll come in handy sometime.” She creases her brows at Firestone, who’s in so much pain at this point he’s stopped swearing. “There’re no good shelters in the area, or I’d say we could tuck in and get out of the weather. We could use your heating tents again, but if the temperature keeps dropping they won’t do much good, and if it snows like I think it’s going to, it will be harder going tomorrow anyway. So we have no choice but to go on.”
Firestone nods through bleary eyes and wipes his forehead with his good arm.
“I'm not dead yet.”
We trudge on.
6 - REMY
Winter 35, Sector Annum 106, 03h44
Gregorian Calendar: January 24
“Hello?” I whisper, for the hundredth time. And for the hundredth time, there is no response.
I twist the dial, searching through the airwaves for any hint of a signal. But there’s nothing. Just static.
Finally, I pull the earbuds out and toss them onto the table. Leaning back, I stare at the array of dials, switches, and wires comprising Normandy’s comm system. I’ve been sitting here for over an hour, trying to connect with anyone in Waterloo’s range, with someone who might be able to tell me what happened to Firestone, Kenzie, Jahnu, and—
“Remy?”
My heart in my throat, I jump out of my chair and whirl around. Eli stands in the doorway, his brows knitted in concern, watching me closely. How long has he been standing there?
“Eli, gods. You scared me.”
He steps into the room and leans against the controls. I plop back in the chair and face him.
“What are you doing?” he says. “It’s four in the morning.”
“You know perfectly well what I’m doing.” I wave my hand toward the radio dials, a vague gesture that I feel Eli should understand. He nods.
The last seventy-two hours have been like one of those air coaster rides back in Okaria’s posh entertainment district. Up and down, up
“Got them from the traps,” she says, and with no further ado she begins preparing the meat for roasting.
We press on as soon as our breakfast is over, but the lightness in the morning sky turned out to be a false hope. By noon, it’s clear there’s a storm bearing down on us. The wind picks up, the temperature continues to drop, and a light flurry swirls around us. We stop to pull out extra layers from our packs and then keep going, battling against the stinging wind as the wayfarer pushes us forward.
“No choice but to push through the night now!” she shouts as evening closes in on us. “We’re less than five kilometers from the base. You can do it!” she howls at Firestone, who looks murderous. Jahnu and I had taken turns with his pack earlier, but Firestone insisted he do his part and had taken it back. Now, it’s clear he needs to give it up again.
“Here,” I say. “My turn to carry your pack.” Firestone doesn’t argue this time, but instead of me taking the full load, Kenzie suggests we split up the weight. She empties Firestone’s stuff, divides it into three piles, and then jams the contents in our packs. “We can leave your pack here, hide it in the leaves.”
“This is as good a place as any to rest a bit,” our guide says. “Might as well finish off our rations.” Huddled together and shivering, we polish off what’s left of the possum. Then she takes Firestone’s empty pack and disappears into the darkness. It’s no time at all before she returns with a set of little lamps, five warming packs, and a packet of dried fruit and nuts that, for all I know, she could have teleported from an Outsider camp. She hands each of us a warming pack and we crack them, releasing the energy, and tuck them under our clothes.
“There’re only three lamps, so you’ll have to share,” she says. “But they’ll help guide us as we walk. We have emergency drop points for supplies in case one of our wayfarers ends up in a bad spot, like this one. I left the extra pack there. It’ll come in handy sometime.” She creases her brows at Firestone, who’s in so much pain at this point he’s stopped swearing. “There’re no good shelters in the area, or I’d say we could tuck in and get out of the weather. We could use your heating tents again, but if the temperature keeps dropping they won’t do much good, and if it snows like I think it’s going to, it will be harder going tomorrow anyway. So we have no choice but to go on.”
Firestone nods through bleary eyes and wipes his forehead with his good arm.
“I'm not dead yet.”
We trudge on.
6 - REMY
Winter 35, Sector Annum 106, 03h44
Gregorian Calendar: January 24
“Hello?” I whisper, for the hundredth time. And for the hundredth time, there is no response.
I twist the dial, searching through the airwaves for any hint of a signal. But there’s nothing. Just static.
Finally, I pull the earbuds out and toss them onto the table. Leaning back, I stare at the array of dials, switches, and wires comprising Normandy’s comm system. I’ve been sitting here for over an hour, trying to connect with anyone in Waterloo’s range, with someone who might be able to tell me what happened to Firestone, Kenzie, Jahnu, and—
“Remy?”
My heart in my throat, I jump out of my chair and whirl around. Eli stands in the doorway, his brows knitted in concern, watching me closely. How long has he been standing there?
“Eli, gods. You scared me.”
He steps into the room and leans against the controls. I plop back in the chair and face him.
“What are you doing?” he says. “It’s four in the morning.”
“You know perfectly well what I’m doing.” I wave my hand toward the radio dials, a vague gesture that I feel Eli should understand. He nods.
The last seventy-two hours have been like one of those air coaster rides back in Okaria’s posh entertainment district. Up and down, up
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