Chapter Text

Well, healing is slow, it comes and it goes,
A glimpse of the sun then a flurry of snow
The first green shoots and a sudden frost
Oh, something is gained when something is lost
The rot and the ruin, the earth and the worms
Well, healing is slow, it comes and it goes,
A glimpse of the sun then a flurry of snow
The first green shoots and a sudden frost
Oh, something is gained when something is lost
The rot and the ruin, the earth and the worms
The seasons change, the world turns
"Perfume and Milk," Florence and the Machine

Cause I'm here now, and asking
"Melt me down, recast me
Burn me clean
Like glass from sandy ground"
They say there's good grief
But how can you tell it from the bad?
Maybe it's only in the fact
Good grief's the one that's in your past
"Good Grief," Dessa

vertumnalia, year 56 post landing

Solace rolls over in bed, pulling off their eyemask and rubbing their eyes. Dust sunshine sneaks through the edges of the blinds, falling in stripes across the bed.

There's a cup of tea, still steaming, on their nightstand. On their other side, the culprit sits up in bed with a library book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, his reading glasses falling down his nose. When they were growing up, the luxury of having enough paper for books was unfathomable, but these days the colony has a small library.

"Good morning," Cal smiles, leaning over to kiss them on the cheek, "I'm just about finished, do you want it next?"

"Yes please," Solace picks up their mug, "you seemed to enjoy that one."

They can hear someone moving around downstairs — probably Sym. They slurp their tea while they read the feed, which is mostly excitement about the beginning of the Vertumnalia festival and reminders about the various events that week.

"We should get up," Solace says, "we want to be there when the bus from the coast arrives."

Cal sets the book down, smiling. "Breakfast," he agrees, "then we can go meet Vespers at the depot."

Solace kisses him on the cheek, then rises and stretches, heading for the shower. They take a moment to examine the soap — it's a product of the coastal colony, and their daughter had sent it in a care package earlier in the year. They'd asked her to bring more — it's scented with something cool and peppery and invigorating, and although she'd sent multiple cakes, the whole household enjoyed it so much they were down to the very last of it.

On Earth, people had lived apart from their children. It had been normal, for relatives to live hours away, but the idea that it might take a week for them to reach Vespertine or for her to reach the rest of her family had torn at their heart regardless. Although, it's not as hard now as before the infrastructure for calls had been constructed — they call Vespertine weekly, sometimes only to listen as she talks down the line about her students, about local politics, about the weather and the food.

Next year, they'll go and visit her, to sit in the patio of the small house she shares with Cosine and watch the tide come in. The coast is beautiful, and sometimes they consider moving there in their older age. They visit every two years, the whole family does, stuffing their faces and playing in the ocean.

Scrubbed clean and smelling of coastal plantlife, Solace wipes steam off the mirror. Five years ago, the colony celebrated fifty years on Vertumna, and in another five it will have been half a century of peace. Two thriving colonies, working in partnership with the Gardeners as stewards of the planet.

They're older now than their father ever lived to be, and they see him in the mirror more and more these days. Their hair is threaded liberally with grey, lines etched around their eyes and mouth, perhaps more lightly than they deserve.

The canteen is busy when they arrive — Cumulus has a brilliant smile on his face, no doubt because of the impending visit from his lover and two of his daughters. Solace couldn't imagine living so far apart from someone they were so committed to, but the distance seems to have only cemented the relationship between him and Acacia into something permanent, if deeply weird.

"Morning, Milly," Cal beams, "looking forward to spending a week with Catch and the girls?"

Cumulus's smile widens. "Yes, extremely. He's trying to convince me to retire to the coast when I'm finished training up Quill and Indy, though…I'm considering it. Perhaps the whole 'cule could go, I know Vinny enjoyed his last holiday there."

"Do you think Mona would go for it?" Sym asks, pouring sugarbug syrup into his blep.

"She might. Cedratine's going out there because Axiom's doing an excellent job with the creche, but looking at the amount of births she's going to need more help," Cumulus rubs the back of his neck ruefully, "so Ced might go out there to help xem. Last call I had with Nimbus he said Amity wasn't too happy about how much work her partner's shouldering alone."

Solace nods — births in the Vertumna colony have slowed as their children's cohort age into their late thirties and early forties, but on the other hand, rumour has it that Rex is going to become a great-grandfather in the new year. Sol's eldest grandchild turned seventeen in Glow, and it's strange to think of the possibility of Detrivore becoming a mother herself.

This balancing act will likely continue for some time, shuffling qualified colonists around. On the upside, the journey to the coast keeps getting faster and more comfortable, and Sym is currently working on a proposal that would partially automate the process of travelling from colony to colony, which could increase the frequency and speed of trips.

"The creche here can spare Cedratine," Sym replies, "although he is a very congenial colleague and I will be sad to see him go, even temporarily. As will many of the children, I imagine."

Cumulus' smile turns wry. "I remember much the same reaction when Az left," he replies, "but that's life. Well, I won't keep you."

That means they should move on. The canteen opens onto the commons, where Alacrity is sitting with his partner Neoteny. Neo's not showing yet, but Solace has seen a ten week scan. It's their second child, and Solace's fifth grandchild.

"The transport's been delayed," Alec says as they sit down, "fifteen minutes or so. Nothing major, but there was a dillypillar on the route and they had to wait for it to finish passing through. Huge, apparently."

Cal sighs, setting down his loaded plate. "I suppose I don't need to wolf this down then," he says, "more's the better. How's Juno?"

"She's with my parents this morning," Neo smiles, "getting absolutely spoiled rotten. We're probably going to wait until I'm showing to tell her she's going to be a big sister."

Solace nods, mouth full of breakfast. Neoteny is Paramour and Verbena's treasured only child, and they're adoring grandparents to xer child — soon, children. Juniper is probably getting more attention than she knows what to do with.

"Did you make the call about enhancement," Cal asks, "you were thinking no?"

Alec shakes his head. Unlike Anemone, his scales are few and far between, although he has more under his clothes from scrapes and dings doing sports. "We had a chat to Ves about it," he says, "and Dita as well, and we went with no enhancement. I like mine, but it's more about like…connection to family than actual utility?"

"You know how I feel about it," Solace nods to Neoteny, "and your parents had good reasons not to enhance you."

Neoteny shrugs, the corners of xer mouth turning down. "There wasn't enough oversight on genetic enhancement on board the Stratospheric," xe frowns, "my parents both had worse quality of life because of their enhancements. I don't think it's necessary, especially when you have no idea what a child will be like…"

"I'm with you on this," Alec murmurs, gently elbowing his partner, "you don't need to defend this choice to anyone here. Eat your breakfast."

Cal leans over in his chair, looking hopefully at the gate despite the news of the delay, then turns back to the table. "Excited to see Ves? I'm sure she's brought about a million presents."

"Tig's visiting too," Neoteny elbows Alec in return, "so it's going to be a rowdy couple of weeks. Not that I mind, he's so insistent on making himself useful and he's a laugh a minute. Oh! And Asterid! Goodness, the gang's going to be all together."

Cal gives Sol an amused side glance. Between all the visiting relatives, it's likely to be a completely packed week of socialising and activities — Vespertine is already taking Vida's children camping, and Cirrus's house is going to be packed to the rafters with children and grandchildren.

Every year, people Solace has known all their sixty-five years are suddenly gone. Their mother lived to see the youngest of Vida's children walking and talking, and then went quietly in her sleep. Anne got more and more frail and forgetful, and two years ago she too joined the planet's soil. Miles did not live long after her.

The litany of names spoken every Glow gets longer and longer, but what a relief that most of them are deaths of old age now. Every original council member, starting with Tonin and ending with Anne, is now brown soil in Geoponics, well and truly part of Vertumna.

One day, that will be Solace. It will be their name in the litany before the first sunrise, and that of everyone they have ever known. One day, the colony will speak the names of people who will only know Solace and their cohort as a history lesson.

Right now, though, they slip their hand into Cal's as the two of them head through the decorative pillars marking where the colony's gate once stood, towards the station where a gaggle of colonists are waiting for the arrival of the visitors from the coastal colony.

Solace finds a place next to Cirrus and Richter, Cal's arm around their waist. It's hard enough being apart from one of their children, but both Cosine and Integer live on the Coast — Cosy as the colony's Counsellor, and Integer as a surveyor. Cirrus and Richter cared for both of Rus's parents in their final years, and Rus seems have stepped into place as the de-facto head of the family.

They wonder if he might be planning on stepping down as First Surveyor and moving out to the Coast to be with his children. It would be a shame to see him go — they've been on the council together for over twenty years at this point, and Rus is still incredibly hale and loves his job, and Richter's knowledge of xenofauna husbandry is without equal.

The crowd keeps growing — Solace can hear a very distant engine, the sound of a slow-moving intercolony bus. Somewhere off to their left, they hear "Excuse me — thanks — coming through!" and a moment later Detrivore and Osteophage emerge from the crowd. "Grandy," Teo says, relieved, "we found you. Amma can't make it, she had a rescheduled appointment."

Dita rolls her eyes. "Teo," she says fondly, "you know we won't die if you don't find Grandy and Pa in the crowd?"

"I know," Teo makes a moue, "but it'll be easier to find Auntie Ves if we all stick together?"

"Give it a few more years and you'll be looking over the heads of most people here," Solace grins. Teo rubs the back of his neck bashfully — he's a tall, wiry boy of fifteen, shy and sweet-natured. He reminds them of Cal, although it's usually paint under Teo's fingernails rather than dirt.

Dita reaches up to ruffle Teo's hair, fondly exasperated. She's casually dressed, her dusty-green hair crammed into a clip. "You know Auntie would come looking for you first thing anyway," she laughs, "you won't miss out."

Solace keeps needing to remind themselves that Dita turned seventeen this past Glow — she's an adult. She seems so youthful and so carefree, which — this is what they worked for. Vida grew up in the long shadow of the war, of authoritarianism, surrounded by traumatised adults.

Dita was born to parents who only knew war by its shadow, so of course she seems carefree. She is. There are only a couple of people alive who remember Earth, and the generation who were born in space just keep getting older.

This is what their parents wanted, this is what Solace fought for. For their grandchildren to seem so young and so easygoing, with so much less hardship in their lives.

Teo sniffs the air, then straightens up hopefully, and in the next moment a long, segmented Expeditions vehicle rolls into view. It's modelled after a Dillypillar, and there's a decal of one rampant along the side.

It stops, and a middle aged man with black dreadlocks streaked with electric blue leans out the window. "Sorry for the delay," Igneous beams, "please stand back so people can disembark."

The doors slide open with a hiss, then a teal-haired figure jumps down and pulls down a ramp. "Alright alright alright," Integer calls out, spreading his arms wide, "hello, hometown! Hello from the coast! Happy Vertumnalia, and to all-"

"Tig," Cosine cuts across him, quiet but carrying, "if you don't stop carrying on I'll throw up on you."

Integer makes a show of zipping his lips, then reaches out to help Cosine down from the vehicle. A moment later, Vespertine appears in the doorway, already scanning the crowd.

"Vespers," Cal calls out, at the same time as Cirrus waves, beaming. Vespers eyes light on her family, and she immediately begins making her way through the crowd with Cosy in tow.

Behind her, Catch accepts a hand down from Milly and immediately pulls him into a kiss, while their daughter Asterid audibly sighs "Ah, Indy, your eldest is taller than me already! Minnie, do you wanna hug Auncle Indy—"

The crowd parts to let Cosine through, and immediately both of her fathers pull her into a tight hug. "You look well, petal," Richter smiles, "glowing, even?"

Up close, Cosy isn't visibly pregnant. "Van and Rez wanted a second baby," she shrugs bashfully, "so…"

"When're you due," Cal asks, "can't be that far along?"

"She's due in Mid Wet," Vespers supplies, pulling Detrivore into a hug, "it's pretty exciting. No regrets about not doing the parent thing, but being an Auntie's pretty great."

Cosy shoves her lightly, smiling. "I'm being used so Vespers can get all the newborn snuggles without any of the responsibility," she complains.

"I look after you when you're preggers," Vespers points out, "also they'll be my responsibility when they get old enough for school. Teo, stop lurking and get down here."

Teo obligingly folds down to embrace Vespers, rocking her happily side to side. "Hi, Auntie," he beams, "Amma couldn't make it but she'll be here as soon as her appointment lets out."

"I'll be here for a week," Vespers laughs, "I can wait for Vida to do her job that she loves. Gimme a sec—" and then she's off to give Indy a bear hug, while Nimbus quietly disembarks, accompanied by Reliance.

Solace ambles over, leaving Cirrus and Richter to catch up with Cosy. "Governor," they grin, "where's the rest of the clowder?"

"Nougat stayed behind," Nimbus smiles, pulling Solace into a crushing hug, "Her and Amity are working on something really exciting together, and Amity didn't want to leave Ax alone with the kids and everything else. Grady and Rosy are organising a delivery to Provisions, they'll be along in a second."

"And," Ian says significantly, "Dad, you should tell them personally."

Nimbus rubs the back of his neck. "And," he grins at Ian, "I will not be running for re-election. I've done my dash, time for someone young and fresh at the wheel. I'll be staying on at Command, probably going back into logistics."

"Your first love," Solace agrees, "more time for your family and all those projects you didn't have time for because you were building a colony?"

"Quite so," Nimbus grins, "I hear Marz has been wildly enjoying herself?"

Solace gestures back towards the colony. "She's been busy with all her projects," they smile, "did she tell you she's a radio host now?"

Nimbus rolls his eyes. "I've promised her an exclusive interview this afternoon," he replies, "she's also hosting us for lunch, apparently we have a lot to catch up on."

"Marz just knows we brought treats and wants first dibs," Grady snorts, arriving with Rosy in tow, "good morning, Solace, you look well."

"That's because I am," Solace leans down so Grady can kiss them on the cheek, "how was the journey?"

Rosy makes a rueful expression. "It was absolutely beautiful, perfect weather," she says, "but I already miss the coast. I am sweating. We have time to wash up before we're due at Marzipan's place, right?"

"No," Ian deadpans, patting his twin sister on the shoulder, "you have to go eat fancy lunch while skungie, Erosion. Uncle Rus has barred you specifically from the shower."

Nimbus pinches the bridge of his nose. "Yes," he says, "we all have three hours to wash and get changed. Digby's got the rest of the bags, so can you two get yourselves to Rus and Richter's place and we'll catch you up?"

The Dillypillar has rudimentary facilities for washing, but all the arriving Proserpine colonists are going to be spending the morning availing themselves of hot showers and real beds. Speaking of which…

"Ves," they call out, "want to come back home for a cuppa and a shower? Maybe a nap?"

Vespers looks up from where she's showing Dita her camera roll, eyes widening. "Would I ever," she exclaims, "I think I have a second skin of road scunge."

Back at the house, Alec waits next to Sym and Ali. Ali immediately yells "Auntie Ves," racing across the commons to fling themselves into Ves's arms.

"Allotroph," Vespers wheezes, staggering, "you're getting too big to do that. Look at you in your courier blues, you look spruce!"

Ali preens a little, straightening their coat. "I started running deliveries start of this year," they say pridefully, "I gotta go do my run, but I'll be back! Promise!"

"You and I still have to go to class," Teo points out, "and Aunty's going to want a nap. We'll see her tonight."

Cal puts a heavy hand on both their shoulders. "Teo is right," he says, "best to leave Aunty to rest up. Ves and Cosy will be staying with your Amma, so you'll be able to see her any time you like."

"I'll go make sure the room you and Aunty Cosy are staying in is all tidy," Dita nods, "I think Theorem stocked the bathroom and got out sheets but I don't know if she had time to make up the bed."

Ves shrugs, rolling her shoulders. "Your grandparents couch will do fine in the meantime," she smiles, "now I gotta go say hi to Uncle Critter I guess."

"Hey stranger," Alec grins, hugging his elder sister briefly and with feeling, "how was the journey?"

Vespers beams, "I got loads of photos, including the absolutely massive Dillypillar we had to stop for. I'm so ready to take a cold shower and maybe a nap, but first I have presents to hand out!"

"You know we will love you even if you don't come laden with gifts, petal," Cal grins, "and I insist you wash up and put clean clothes on before you start handing them out."

"Okay," Vespers sighs, "twist my arm, why don't you…"

Detrivore and Vida arrive while Vespers is sitting on the couch drinking tea and handing out gifts — more of the delicious-smelling soap, tea, sweets, an adorable sunhat for little Juniper.

"Viridescent," Vespers laughs, rising to her feet, "how are you?"

Vida smiles, crossing the room to embrace her sister. "Same old, same old," she grins, "I see you filled your luggage with temptations to come and visit you next year."

"Oh, she's onto you," Cal rests his chin in his hand, "we were planning on visiting for Sol's birthday…and next Vertumnalia. You don't need to persuade us, you realise?"

Vespers shrugs, unashamed. "I know," she says, "but I can't share all these nice things with you every day, so they stock up! Very simple."

"We do bring Vespers many home comforts when we visit," Sym points out, "we are simply sharing the best of our respective colonies. With that said, I am very fond of this tea, and I am pleased I have been given so much of it."

"Don't ration it this time," Vespers points at him, "I bring you nice things for you to use them and I can send more. I should not have to find out you liked it so much you barely drink it from Ren."

Sym turns his silvery eyes on Solace, already giving him their best unrepentant face. Grappling with mortality looks like a lot of things, including carefully measuring out gifts so they last. Flulu had given Sym a notebook as a gift, and to Solace's knowledge it sits on Sym's nightstand treasured and unused.

"Life's here to be lived," Vida smiles, "also, if I wear the clothes Vespers keeps giving me until they go to holes, eat all the sweets, and drink all the spirits, she gets an excuse to bring me more."

"That's the spirit," Alec sits down next to Vida, nodding to Vespers, "how're all the kids?"

"Giving me and Patina hell," Ves grins, "just how I like it. I'm about to start a unit on post-landing media studies, we've got a bunch of news items to look at. I need to talk to Patchouli while I'm here, actually, she's been very helpful but I'd love the chance to sit down with her."

Vida finishes her cup of tea. "I keep telling Quill to write to you themselves," she says wryly, "they don't regret moving back here to look after their mothers, but they're always asking me for your news."

"I'd love it if Quill wrote to me," Vespers beams, "tell them not to be a weirdo, okay?"

Dita rolls her eyes. "Amma only dates weirdos, Aunty Ves," she says, "it's like a whole thing."

"Detrivore," Vida laughs, "should you be talking about your stepparent like that?"

Dita grins, "I'm just saying, if Ren shouldn't be a weirdo…"

Solace smiles, glancing over at Cal, who seems content to silently bask in his messy, chaotic family. Vida made the decision to co-parent with Theorem in her twenties, despite the apparent end of their relationship. It's not a decision Solace had understood at the time — it had looked like two young women unable to let their first love go.

But as Dita had been born, it had become very apparent Vida and Theorem were a good team, and seemed happy. As time went on, it became more and more apparent their feelings for each other weren't not romantic — deeply committed and steady in some ways, wild and changeable in others.

They seem to go in phases, their commitment sometimes romantic and sometimes platonic, but their co-parenting remains consistent. Quill, meanwhile, had begun writing to Vida as soon as the post was set up. Over time, their correspondence had become more romantic in nature, and when Quill had moved back to care for their aging mothers Vida's children had already accepted them as a third parent.

Vespers lives with Cosy, the two of them happy to live together as friends. Cosy has acted as surrogate twice now to a long-term friend-with-benefits, Vespers has donated her genetics to the roster of possible donor parents, and she often has a datefriend or two. Whenever she visits or calls or writes, she's full of stories about this kid in her classroom or that lover or some new adventure.

"We've made you up a bed," Vida turns to her sister, "would you perhaps like a nap? We can bring you your meal, easy."

Setting her mug down, Vespers rises to her feet. "I could use a sleep in a proper mattress," she smiles, "and some quiet time before the festival."

She wanders off with Vida and Dita, leaving Sol's house. Alec departs to put Juniper down for her nap, leaving Solace and their partners alone in the house.

"I have matters to attend to," Sym smiles, "I will see you this evening?"

"You're excused from work for the festival too," Cal points at him, "don't let me catch you or the Adjudicator working."

Solace looks mock-offended. "I would never," they grin, knowing full well they've done it before and will do it again.

"I will be taking the time to see my daughter," Sym promises, "just one more matter to attend to and then I am on holiday."

Cal gives him a significant look. "It had better be just one more thing," he says, "I'll fish you out of a vat."

Sym laughs. "I promise," he gives Cal a fond look, and then he is gone.

They have most of the afternoon to themselves. Neither of them hold Council positions these days, which was a hard adjustment in many ways. All this free time.

Adjudicator has a nice ring to it. The colony's first judge, applying the legal code and constitution they helped to build. Even then, Solace feels their age more every year, and every year they delegate more and more. They don't plan to retire any time soon, but when they do it will be in the knowledge the work will continue.

As such, they have plenty of time to eat a leisurely lunch and then lounge on the daybed on the patio, drinking iced tea and reading with Cal's arm around their shoulders. The commons is full of colonists — children playing with visiting cousins, Anemone in a broad-brimmed sunhat watching some new sport the Coastal colony have invented played with nets on sticks alongside Milly's younger daughter Noni, a teenager teaching a Vriki tricks.

Solace rests their cheek on Cal's shoulder, closing their eyes. It's warm, and they're drowsy, and their husband is a terribly good headrest so they're just going to rest their eyes for a minute…

Their holopalm buzzes. Solace blinks awake, their head pillowed on Cal's shoulder. Cal makes an inquiring noise as they sit up. "Got a message," they mumble, "hold on…"

Solace opens their holopalm, navigating to their messages with a gesture. There's a few messages, but the one that triggered the alert was from one of the few people Solace will never, ever mute.

Viridescent: Could you come to the house please? I need your help with something.
Solace: Of course, darling, I'll be right over. Do you want me to grab Dad too?
Viridescent is typing…

Solace frowns as they rise from the daybed. It's a yes or no question, surely?

Viridescent: Come alone.

"This is just a Ren problem," they tell Cal, heading inside and up the stairs to their bedroom. Cal frowns, but doesn't object — from early ages, their children often gravitated to a specific parent for specific problems. Some of them are obvious — when Vida was ten and a half, she'd woken Sol in the middle of night to say I have my period — and others less so.

Their Expeditions-issue knife sits in a drawer, largely unused — they are, after all, technically still a member of Expeditions. They drop it into their shoulder bag, head back down the stairs, and across the commons towards Viridescent's house.

Viridescent lives in a lovely, overgrown house designed for larger families — she lives with Theorem and Quill, and their three children. Dita is sitting on the covered patio with her hair tucked up under a colourful scarf, reading her book. She seems unbothered.

"Hi, Grandy," she calls out, "just waiting for my pincurls to set. You okay?"

Solace steps onto the patio, inhaling the smell of Vida's garden — a wild and fecund palace of native trees and flowers, interspersed with a vegetable and herb garden that Dita and Quill look after together. "Yes," they reply, "your mother just messaged me needing help with something."

"Probably a quick mending job," Dita sighs, "I wish she'd check her stage outfit before the day of a performance, you know? Amma, Grandy's here!"

There's a pause, slightly too long, then Vida's rich contralto echoes from the other end of the house. "I'm in my office," she replies, "come in."

Dita unfurls her long limbs like a colourful spider, stretching. "Come on," she says, "I'll put the pot on — tea, Amma?"

"No thank you, darling," Vida sounds calm, but Solace can hear the slight tension in her voice, "maybe a bit later."

Dita frowns a little, looking from the direction of Vida's office back to Solace. No doubt, she can hear that tension too. Solace smiles at her, hoping it comes off as more reassuring than it feels.

Slowly, Dita sits back down and picks up her book, but Solace knows she is certainly not reading it. Good girl. With a flicker of pride, they head inside the house.

Vida's office is at the other end of the house, a sunny room filled with plants and her sister's paintings. Solace makes their way through the lounge and kitchen to a long corridor, past the guest bedroom where they can hear Vespertine snoring softly through the door. The front door has a rather beautiful geometric stained-glass window set into it, throwing coloured shadows on the floor.

Solace pauses, their hand on the doorknob. "Vida," they call out, "I'm coming in."

"Alright," Vida replies, too evenly. They open the door and stop, trying to comprehend what they're seeing.

As well as Vida's desk, with her multiple terminals for holoscreens and one dedicated one for Congruence, the room has a large table Solace knows Vida occasionally uses for clients. It would be a beautiful, peaceful place to come to see a counsellor — the room is full of plants and artwork, paintings from Vespertine as well as strange sculptures and a beautiful and elaborate hand-woven wall hanging.

There are large windows, allowing the sun to fall across the room, including the table and the violent splash of turquoise spilling across the the tabletop to drip onto the wooden floors. Uncomprehending, Solace follows the drips upward to the table, to trickling blue blood, to a pallid hand staked to the table with an Expeditions-issue hunting knife.

Vida sits in one of the chairs, her mass of green waves piled up in a massive fluffy bun, her face a frozen mask of rage. Across from her—

For a moment, Solace thinks it's Sym. The black clothes, the long black hair — but then the head turns, and the features are strange and distorted but so, so familiar.

Solace shuts the door behind them, silent, and tries to find the words. Decades-old anger bubbles up in their chest, still caustic after all this time.

Nearly forty years, and they still haven't forgiven him.

"Try to touch me, or them, or do that thing," Vida says, cold and silky, "and the next knife will go into your eye."

The — he — a face Solace hasn't seen since they were a teenager simply stares up at Sol, mouth slightly agape. It's all subtly wrong — the nose is too flat, the jaw too fine, the eyes too large, like a muzzle flattened and stretched to human-ish proportions.

Solace finally finds their voice. "You have some nerve," their voice sounds far off, shaking with fury, "showing your face here."

"I see there is much of the parent in the daughter," the Gardener that used to be Dysthymia responds, in a reedy and halting voice, "you were always so calm when you were angry."

Nearly twenty years ago, Vida had pulled them aside and said a couple of years Ves and I encountered a Gardener I think used to be Tangent's brother and Sym said to tell you if it happened again. And Solace and Sym had fought, and he'd looked so sad when he told them I had hoped he would not be fool enough to come back and to spare you this.

But he had come back, had been in the woods that day. To this day, they don't understand why. And now here he is in their daughter's home, their other daughter asleep down the hall.

"Go fuck yourself," Solace says abruptly, "you — you sold us out. What were you thinking, trying to come back?"

He looks up at them, eyes flat, for a long moment. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Solace can see his throat working, strangely shaped.

"I mean no harm," he replies eventually, "I came because it's my last chance."

Solace stares down at him, mute. A chasm yaws in their heart, the same one that opened when they realised Dys had hated the colony enough to blow a hole in the wall and leave them all to die. He'd thought the colony so rotted, so unsalvageable, that there was nothing in humanity worth saving.

Vida pulls the knife out of the hand still pinned to the table, curling her lip with distaste. "Last chance to do what?" she asks, looking dispassionately at the smeared pool of blood across the tabletop.

"The Array needs me elsewhere," the Gardener says, "I may not return to this place for some decades."

Vida studies him for a moment. "Commensalist," she says, quietly, "how many is some?"

Solace wonders, for a moment, how and when Commensalist told her his name. "The project I am required for will likely require thirty years or more," Commensalist replies.

In thirty years, Solace will be ninety five. And more…

Their voice sticks horribly in their throat, their eyes burning. They don't remember the last time they saw Dys, and they couldn't have known it was the last time.

"Why?" Solace asks, staring down at the awful, familiar face.

Commensalist looks back at his wounded hand. "I had to see for myself that I was wrong," he says, toneless.

Vida frowns for a moment. "I think," she sighs, "you two should go sit outside. I will clean this up, and I will ask Detrivore to put the pot on. Ren, take the first aid kit, I don't want bloodstains all over the place."

Solace pulls the first aid kit out of a drawer, numb. Commensalist draws his hand back, but instead of standing up, he settles down onto all fours at Solace's hip height.

Outside the front door, Vida's garden just about backs on to the jungle. It's outside where the former colony boundary had once been — there is a paved path leading out to a wider pedestrian pathway, but beyond that boundary the colony fades into the jungle. There's no longer a formal boundary — the colony has expanded, the Gardeners have granted them more space, and these days the colony and the jungle bleed into each other. A juvenile Manticore is sleeping in a sunny patch, curled up on its side like a plush toy a child put down for a moment.

"Give me your hand," Solace says, sitting down on the swing seat, "can't have you bleeding all over the place."

Commensalist sits back on his — it's? — haunches, and allows Solace to handle a strange, long, shaggy hand — it's too thin for a human hand, the three fingers ending in claws, with an overlong thumb, all of it coated in fine pale fur. "This body is only temporary," Commensalist says, while Solace inspects the damage.

It's not too bad. The cut is clean, the knife fine and sharp — it's still bleeding, but sluggishly. "Did she hit anything major?" Solace asks, carefully turning the hand of to examine the exit wound.

"No," Commensalist replies, "this is unnecessary."

Solace frowns at him. "Not all of us can afford to be so cavalier with our bodies," they reply, opening the kit and retrieving antiseptic gel and a sterile needle, "and you'll bleed everywhere."

Outside, they can get a better look at their old friend, in the daylight. Commensalist has a strange mix of a quadrupedal and bipedal body plan, a face that's halfway between a human face and a muzzle with a long shaggy black mane. Upright, Sol thinks, he would be smaller than Dys had been as a human.

Commensalist says nothing while Sol cleans and stitches the wound, wrapping it in a bandage. It's only when Sol has let go of him that it murmurs "You got old, Solace."

"I'm sixty-five," Solace tells him, "that's not that old. I'll likely live to see my great-grandchildren, possibly even to adulthood. Commensalist — Dys — tell me why you're really here."

It's not a question. Commensalist looks out at the jungle for a long moment. "I wasn't lying," it says, "there is every chance I will not see you again."

"And why would you want to?" Sol asks, failing to keep the anger out of their voice.

"You're angry with me, after all this time?"

Yes. Yes, they are. When they realised what they'd done, when they realised why he'd done it.

He'd been their friend. That was the worst part.

Solace had landed on this planet, and had both fallen in love and had their heart broken in quick succession. Vertumna was beautiful, and Solace had snuck out Dys's drain pipe just to stare at the jungle, at the sky. They'd marvelled at the sheer size of the world, the smells and the textures, the feeling of water trickling over their small outstretched hands.

Tammy had barely lived a season, Allotroph is older than she ever lived to be. Tonin. Hal. All of it out of ten, eleven, twelve year old Sol's reach. They'd got scared. They'd fled inside. They'd been a good kid, who did what they were told.

But then the famine had happened. Flulu had worked long hours, smaller and more and more ashen by the day, but Solace had had something they could do even when it terrified them. They'd set their jaw, they'd set their shoulders, they'd swallowed their fear.

They'd been hungry, and frail, and desperate. Sym pulled them out of some bad situations, older surveyors like Verbena or Utopia or Elucidate had pulled them out of others. But they'd found it — the sponge cake, the thing that bought them a few more months.

Solace's parents had hugged them, when they'd learned they'd be fine. And with their arms around her, they'd realised they'd outgrown their mother. Fluorescent had become small, frail, fallible for the first time.

They'd fought to save Kom, they'd hunted for the cure to save their father and they'd failed. But they'd hadn't given it up easily. Every single thing taken from them had teeth marks on it, from Solace hanging on so damn tightly.

They'd loved Dys once — for his intelligence and independence, for his rare moments of gentleness. But he had increasingly disdained the colony, seen less and less in it worth saving.

He hadn't thought the thing Solace loved most to be worth fighting for. Even after the Heliopause had landed, Solace had seen what the colony could be. They'd hated it some days, it's inhabitants afraid and narrow-minded, but it had been home. It had been theirs, all they ever had, all they'd ever known.

And Dys had been prepared to sell every single person in the colony, many of them unhappy but powerless, down the river. Him, and him alone, would be spared and given the chance to become something greater. The rest of them, well… apparently, they were past saving.

Including Solace. Had their friendship ever really meant anything? Had they just been expedient?

They'd been so angry, when they'd learned of Noctilucent's offer. They knew he'd set the bomb, they'd been furious and betrayed, but knowing truly what he had done had twisted the knife.

"Was it worth it?"

Commensalist flinches, like it's been tapped on the nose. The question hangs in the air.

Solace just waits, absentmindedly kicking the toe of their shoe against the wood of Vida's front porch. For some reason, Commensalist — Dys — has come back. He wants something enough to come back to a place he was once desperate to escape.

The door latch clicks, and Dita emerges, carrying a tray. "Amma said tea will fortify everyone's nerves," she says, "and she needs to get ready for this evening so please no more unpleasant surprises like sneaking into her house and trying to touch her okay?"

"Amma…?" The question trails off into a strange, rolling churr, like a Manticore.

"Gardener Commensalist," Solace says smoothly, "Detrivore is my eldest grandchild."

For a moment, Solace sees Dita through unfamiliar eyes. She lacks Vida's imposing height, the strands of hair escaping from her scarf straight and variegated green, ranging from a light dusty sage to a deep olive. She has Vida and Sol's reddish brown eyes, but her cheekbones and the shape of her jaw call to mind her other parent. To her credit, she looks only mildly disconcerted.

"Her other biological parent," Solace continues, "is Theorem, Rex's eldest daughter. Don't you know this already, from the Array?"

Dita places the tray on an end table. "Good to meet you, Gardener Commensalist," she nods, straightening up.

Commensalist makes a soft, chuffing noise Solace recognises as a laugh. "It's not the same to experience something with someone else's imperfect memory," he says, "I know what this girl looks like to Sym. If you'll excuse me…"

It stands, padding towards Dita, who stares the Gardener down before offering her unfurled hands. Commensalist chuffs again, sniffing loudly, then stands on his hind legs.

"I know you," it says, "I know your smell. You're with Expeditions?"

Dita leans back a little, frowning. Commensalist is not tall, standing up — they're about eye to eye. "Yes," she says, "I'm an ecologist primarily."

Commensalist drops back down onto all fours and pads back to Solace, looking at the tea tray. Solace pours him a cup of tea, then dumps an obscene amount of syrup into it. Dita lifts her eyebrows, but does not comment, instead vanishing back inside.

"She was not afraid of me," Commensalist observes, "wary, but not afraid. Did you…?"

Did you give her my augment? "Dita's beloved Poppop is a Gardener," Solace points out, "everyone living here has been living alongside the Gardeners as partners for most of their lives. Detrivore specifically has no reason to fear you, she's had more to do with Gardeners than most."

Commensalist says nothing, reaching out for the mug. His fingers are too long to hold it the way a human would, so he sort of awkwardly cradles it.

"To answer your question," it says eventually, "yes and no."

Solace doesn't respond. What the fuck do they say to that? It was worth it? Congratulations, you got your way, and if things had gone the way you wanted none of us would be alive anymore. Me and my family would not exist. What do you want me to say?

Commensalist drinks out of the mug, a little awkwardly. "I didn't feel I could live as a human any longer," he murmurs, "but I wish that I had. I am sure that the way I felt then was temporary, but it felt unending…but if someone had told me that, and Sym did, I would not have listened."

"You were such a stubborn asshole," Solace replies, toneless.

"Yes," Commensalist replies, with a resigned little shrug, "but when I came back to myself, no longer as Dysthymia but as someone else. I reached out for Sym and found that although I had changed, he had changed more. You had changed more."

Solace pauses thoughtfully. "How long?"

"Twenty years, to be anything close to an individual again. I remember being out earlier, but I wasn't…conscious. And in that time, Sym had spent two decades living among humans," Commensalist continues, "and had become parent to a teenager."

Looking back, that first decade had been difficult for Sym — Anemone had hated him, a lot of the colony hadn't been comfortable around him, and at first he hadn't really understood. He'd never seen the damage up close, never understood his own complicity in every dead parent, every sibling, every friend.

The first time Vida had got a fever, her enhanced thermoregulation had worked against her, her tiny body ratcheting up the temperature to dangerous degrees. Sym did not need to sleep, so he had not, sitting by her bedside as medbay put her on intravenous fluids. They hadn't seen it coming — Cal hadn't got that sick until he was much older, because on board a sick person could be far more easily quarantined.

Sym had said, I don't know what I would do if something happened to her, or her brother, or the baby, because Sol had been pregnant with Alacrity then. Vida had been his child, like Kombucha had been Anne's child.

I do not understand how Antecedent has been able to forgive me. Solace remembers the way he'd sounded saying it, sitting in the open windows with the rainy night behind him, in the dark of Sol and Cal's bedroom with four-year-old Vida sleeping on her father's chest. If anyone harmed her I would never, ever forgive them.

They wonder for a moment if Commensalist resents them. For over forty years, Sym has been their life partner, raised their children. Seventeen-year-old Dys had been head-over-heels in love with Sym, had perhaps dreamed of eternity together.

"You can say "I told you so"," Commensalist adds into the silence. He sounds so much like himself that Solace almost laughs.

"Okay," Solace replies, "I told you so. You didn't believe we could do it and we did."

Commensalist makes a noise, and Solace lifts an eyebrow at it. "You say "we"," it says, after a pause, "like any of that could have happened without you."

"It would have," Solace says immediately, "maybe later, maybe not the same way, but we would have found a way to make it work."

He makes another noise, this one far more dubious. Solace gives him an aside glance, and Commensalist puts down the mug and climbs up onto the swing chair next to then, favouring it's injured…paw, they suppose. It's barely big enough for both of them, with the altered body plan, with his options either being to stare Solace directly in the face or lie down with his shaggy head in their lap.

Commensalist opts for the former. Solace holds their ground, nearly nose to nose with the boy they still wonder if they could have saved. "I couldn't have done it," he says, "but I wish I'd believed in it enough to see it through."

"If you could go back, would you choose differently?"

"Knowing what I do now?" Commensalist asks, "of course. But at the time I could only imagine things getting worse, and dying miserable in a cage. I don't know if there was any way I could have seen what Sym saw…but I wish I'd waited it out."

He sounds more and more like the teenage boy Solace used to know with every passing second. Solace tries to grasp their anger, and finds….not nothing, not exactly. They're still angry with Dys, there's still a tight and awful knot of grief, but there's no more rage left. They wish — they wish things had gone differently.

The litany of their failures, of all the people they tried and failed to bring with them into this future. Not just the dead, but the other failures. If they'd been a better friend to Dys and Tangent and Vace, if they'd been smart enough to realise the brewing dissent from the eventual defectors. If they'd been smarter, worked harder, if they'd spend more time in class, they could have—

"You came all this way," Solace smiles thinly, "to reminisce with me about back when we were both stupid children?"

Commensalist does another chirring laugh. "I think you weren't a child by then," it says, "you were young, but you were no longer a child. No, I came to ask you and one other to reconsider joining the Array."

Solace's heart sinks. They're pretty sure they know who Commensalist means. "My answer hasn't changed in the thirty years since I was first asked," they sigh, "what makes you think I'd change my mind?"

Silence. Solace just waits. They know the the Gardeners have approached some humans, through criteria unknown to anyone except the Array. It's for certain that Solace isn't aware of who some of those people are.

"The only human the Array has ever integrated was a seventeen year old who thought the rest of humanity was a lost cause," Commensalist says eventually, "I don't think I represent humanity well. You're the person that made all of this possible, it's fitting it should be you."

Solace rubs the back of their neck. "Do you think," they ask, "that you are still Dysthymia?"

"Dysthymia is something humans experience," Commensalist notes, "I remember being him. But I do not think I am him any longer. I believe he died, somewhere in the Array. My existence is…fundamentally different to his."

Solace would cease to be, and they would become a custodian of the planet forever.

"Allow me the one selfishness, then," Solace smiles, "of dying as myself. I've served this place for a lifetime. This place can have my meat and my bones when I'm done with them, but I want something left that's mine."

Commensalist chuffs, hot breath washing over their face. Solace wrinkles their nose — it's breath stinks. "Your daughter feels differently," he says, "although not while you and Recalcitrance still live and not until her children are grown."

"Vertumna has fed and sheltered and loved Viridescent all her life," Solace shrugs, "she loves it back. But she also loves this place, and it loves her back, and I can't fault her for trying to have it all. Besides, I can see the utility in her joining the Array as an older woman, with a lifetime's experience of being a human."

Commensalist sighs, like an old dunedog. "A world without you in it," it murmurs.

"I wouldn't be Solace anymore," Solace points out. They try to imagine everything they are diffused through the Array, remembering their old self but no longer considering themselves to be that person. They wonder what it feels like to be Commensalist, to live with Dysthymia's feelings about the people and places he tried to outrun and found he could not.

…They should tell him.

"There's something you need to know," Solace runs their hand back through their hair, suddenly very aware of how much longer it is than when they were a teenager.

Commensalist looks at them expectantly. Solace swallows.

"Tangent died four months ago."

She'd become increasingly reclusive, in her older age. The only reason Solace had known to be worried had been Marz on her doorstep, red eyed, asking Sym is there anything you could do for her? Please.

And Sym had said nothing she will permit. Marzipan, I am truly sorry.

There is a long moment of horrible silence. Commensalist's strange flattened muzzle has pulled into a new expression. He looks how Solace felt, sitting at their father's bedside, listening to his breathing stop. A gulf had opened in them then, a chasm that Dys unknowingly put himself on the opposite side of by thinking his fellow humans beyond saving.

Commensalist jumps off the swing seat, Solace listing and scrambling to stop their tea slopping everywhere. They realise, with a start, that Commensalist has a tail — long and whippy, with a shaggy mane of plant-like matter running down the spine to terminate in a tuft-like growth at the tip. It's lashing, clearly agitated as Commensalist paces through the garden. The sleeping Manticore startles awake, bouncing over the fence and scuttling further into the jungle, where it eyes the Gardener unhappily.

"I'm too late," Commensalist says eventually, "I saw her once, she — she ran from me—"

Solace just watches, frowning. There's nothing they can say, not really. It feels invasive, watching Commensalist grapple with what they realise must be grief.

"Grandy…?"

Solace looks up. Teo is standing on the pedestrian path, looking at Commensalist warily, flanked by Sym and Cal. They can see Cal frowning, and Sym is looking at Commensalist with a complicated expression.

"Commensalist," Solace calls out, "my grandson Osteophage. Teo, Commensalist is a Gardener."

Teo relaxes a little, but not entirely. "Are they coming to see the music tonight — wait," he hesitates, "is they right?"

Commensalist has stopped pacing in favour of lying down in front of the porch, like a sphinx in the Earth history books. "Not like that he's not," Sym says, exasperated, "please choose between paws or hands, you are terrible at forms that won't upset humans."

"It's expedient," Commensalist replies mutinously, "I wanted to have thumbs."

Sym sighs. "Don't think I don't know you generated a distraction just so you could slip past me either," he adds, "if you are going to remain, you should perhaps look either more or less human. Depending on if you wish to be recognised."

Commensalist says nothing. Cal's eyes widen. "Well I never," he says, "that's not who I think it is?"

"I should have come earlier," Commensalist replies abruptly, "why didn't you tell me?"

"Because last I knew," Sym tells him, not unkindly, "you never wanted to see any of these people again. I don't pry into your thoughts or memories in the Array, Commensalist, if you had told me you wanted the news you should have said as much."

Teo watches this exchange, nonplussed. "So, masculine grammar?" he ventures, green eyes wide and puzzled.

Commensalist blinks, like he'd forgotten Teo was there. "Yes," it says, "or the grammar you would use for…a plant, or rock. What did you mean, the music?"

Cal coughs lightly. "Vertumnalia traditionally involves performances of live music," this with a note of pride, "ranging from choral and orchestral pieces to popular music, as well as theatre. The Gardeners seem to enjoy that aspect of the festival, and it is not uncommon to see them observing."

Teo nods vigorously. "My Amma's performing," he says proudly, "with Ren, and Auncle Indy, and Uncle Reliance, it's going to be really good."

As if summoned, Vida leans out the doorway. "Speaking of which," she says significantly, "people should start thinking about getting ready. Quill's going to be home in an hour and they're going to want a proper wash up, and Theorem's en route from Command."

"I see her meetings don't run over when everyone has a festival to get ready for," Teo grins, looking very much like Cal, "very interesting."

Solace snorts. They don't regret their days as the Governor's right hand, but they don't miss them either. They're quite sure Marz feels the same way.

"You are quite welcome to stay," Vida says to Commensalist, "if you behave. Depending on what your current body can digest, I might be able to offer you a meal."

Commensalist stands up and shakes himself. "I will decline," it demurrs, "Solace, would you walk with me?"

"I'll see you out," Solace replies, rising to their feet and stepping off the porch, "I'll be back shortly."

Cal catches their elbow briefly, and for a second the two of them lock eyes. He studies their face for a long moment, and what he finds there seems to satisfy him, because he kisses their cheek and then releases them. "I'll see you back at the house," he murmurs, then he continues past them to walk Teo back up to the house.

"Commensalist!"

Solace turns, and Commensalist lifts his shaggy head to look over his shoulder. Vida is lounging on the threshold, shaded by the porch. She fills the doorway — even though it's wide enough to accommodate Flulu's wheelchair when she was alive, tall enough to easily admit Cal's six-foot-four frame, Viridescent's sheer presence seems to occupy the whole space. Behind her, Vespers is rubbing her eyes, looking down at Commensalist with an expression of startled recognition.

"I'll see you again," she calls out, "but forgive me if I hope that it's not soon."

Commensalist regards her for a moment, turning around fully. "I hope not," he replies, "don't stab me in the hand again."

Teo gawps, and Solace hears Vespers squawk "Vida!" from behind her sister. Vida just smiles broadly, oddly regal with one arm braced against the door frame, posture relaxed and easy. A wild queen wearing patched home clothes with the same dignity as any finery, in the heart of her strange and fecund kingdom.

Without another word, Commensalist turns and pads into the jungle, Solace on it's heels. The two of them walk in silence, the Gardener keeping a brisk pace until Solace huffs a request to "slow down!"

Commensalist stops, turning to look at Solace in disbelief. "I'm not eighteen anymore," Solace sighs, "you'd think you're in a hurry to get rid of me."

They don't understand why they're here. Dysthymia can't have had that sentimental an attachment to them, if he was willing to trade in their death to become a Gardener. But he had asked, so here they are.

They wonder if they'll ever forgive him.

The two of them walk in silence, until Commensalist stops. "Are you sure you won't reconsider?" it asks, turning it's dark-grey eyes on Solace.

"Yes," Solace replies immediately, "although I'm still not certain why you want me to."

A long silence. Solace stands and listens to the sound of birdsong, and rustling in the undergrowth.

Commensalist sits down heavily. "I think," he sighs, "that I am sentimental about the last remnants of Dysthymia's old life. You knew him…I'm not sure if he knew you."

"Mm?"

"My memories of you as Dysthymia are of someone who seemed almost mythic," Commensalist shrugs, "a worthy rival, fearless, one of the few people who understood him. But he knew you would not choose him over the colony, and thought you foolish for it."

Solace laughs a little. "Just a scared kid trying to salvage what I could," they smile, "sorry to disappoint."

Commensalist looks up at them silently, and on impulse Solace reaches down to bury their hand in the thick, shaggy ruff around its neck. Underneath, Commensalist feels strangely delicate, the bones and tendons of his shoulders shifting under Solace's hand. Abruptly, Commensalist's whole weight rests heavily against their thigh, like an dunedog sucking up for treats.

Not entirely voluntarily, Solace's knees fold, and they sink down to sit cross-legged in amongst the leaf-litter. Commensalist slumps against one of their knees, eyes closed.

"I wish," Commensalist says after a moment, "not that I had not been born exactly, but that…I had come later. I think I would have liked being human this way. I wonder, now, how truthfully we remember our sister. She seemed so cold, but— she looked for us for a long time."

Solace silently pets the great shaggy head. They both know it's far too late, so there's no point saying it.

Commensalist stands, and for a moment the two of them are eye to eye. Solace rests their hands on their knees and blinks, realising with consternation that they're going to need to get off the ground.

"I will likely not see you again," Commensalist says, "enjoy your paradise. You've won."

Solace rises, wincing as their knees click. "Funny concept, Paradise," they reply, "I don't think it's something you win."

"No?"

"No," Solace smiles, "you build it. Goodbye, Commensalist. Next time don't sneak into any of my descendants houses."

Commensalist chuffs. "I have learned my lesson," it says, "goodbye, Solace."

Then he turns, and heads off into the trees. Solace watches him recede from view, then turns and heads back towards the colony. Their holopalm buzzes.

Recalcitrance: Are you on your way back?
Solace: yes, about ten minutes out. we didn't go far.
Recalcitrance: Is everything ok?
Solace: Pretty much! We talked some stuff over.
Recalcitrance: Alrighty. Do you want a bath?
Solace: I'm all sweaty, but short on time…maybe a bath later after the evening's festivities.
Recalcitrance: Now there's an idea. Book one of the tubs at the bathhouse?
Solace: Please. Is Sym okay?
Recalcitrance: Annoyed at being outwitted, worried about you.
Solace: Tell him I'd like a hug.
Recalcitrance: From Sym?
Solace: I'm terribly greedy, you know this about me. I'll take two. Or more, if I can get them.
Recalcitrance: Alright. Alec and Neo are learning about getting a toddler dressed for a party.
Solace: Juno can't be worse than our Critter was.
Recalcitrance: Perhaps.

Their chest feels strangely hollow. They're still angry at him, but what good does it do? There's nothing righteous in it, just a terrified eighteen year old who only let go of anything after leaving marks from claws and teeth.

Maybe there's something they could have done, if they'd realised what was happening, if they'd argued or pleaded. But, if they're honest with themselves, they would never have done any of that. If anything, if they'd found out what he planned to do, they would have taken it as a deeply personal betrayal.

Solace would probably have drawn their weapon on him. They would have become his enemy, for being willing to sacrifice them all to escape, or trying to everything they'd worked for cease to matter. Not just a generalised betrayal, but a personal one — all the long days they'd spent together looking for food, for a cure, for an answer.

When they arrive back at the house, Sym is anxiously lurking in the doorway, a mug in his long hands. Seeing Solace, he goes to embrace them, realises he's still carrying the mug and dithers anxiously until Solace takes the mug from him and shoulders past him to place it on the side table next to the coat hooks and the shoe rack.

"Are you alright?" Solace asks, peering up at him.

Sym's shoulders drop, and he sighs. "I wish I could feel uncomplicated about Commensalist," he frowns, "he has grown a lot. But I look at you, and our children, and I think about what might have happened had Dys succeeded…"

"And you blame yourself," Solace supplies. This is well-tread territory for the both of them.

"If I had realised what Noctilucent was playing at…I haven't forgiven them, either," Sym scowls, savage with self-recrimination, "I still — I still care about him deeply, Solace, but…"

Solace steps in, winding their arms around Sym's middle. Sym makes a quiet, wounded noise and wraps his arms around their shoulders, the two of them standing in silence until Solace hears a door open and Cal rumbling "Oh, there you are."

Sym takes an arm off Solace's shoulders and extends it wordlessly towards Cal. Solace hears rather than sees Cal amble down the corridor to envelope both of them up in his arms. Solace is tall, but Cal can fit their head under his chin if he stretches a bit.

Cal, bless him, never once questioned why Solace was throwing everything at trying to find an answer. He doesn't ask questions now, just wraps them both in an embrace and stands fast.

"Your tea's getting cold," Sym mumbles eventually, into Solace's hair.

"Can't be having that," Solace laughs, "okay, lads, pack it in and hit the showers."

Cal snorts, relinquishing both Sol and Sym. "You are the one who needs to wash up," he smiles, "you smell like a dunedog."

Bloody Commensalist. "Yeah, yeah," Solace smiles, "I'll rinse off. Can you get out my good tunic, the one I got last time we visited the coast?"

"I laid out your outfit some time ago," Sym looks smug, "I anticipated you would want to wear it."

Cal grins, clapping Sym on the shoulder. He's already dressed in his Vertumnalia best, although Sol notes he's shoved his sleeves messily over his elbows, as he always does. "Now Solace is home," he says significantly, "you should sit down and I'll put the pot on."

They have a very brief rinse off — they're sweaty and they smell like an animal, but they're not proper dirty. All the same, Solace imagines all the old anger and hurt vanishing down the shower drain, like rinsing off the blood after a fight.

As promised, the outfit they had in mind for the start of the festival has been laid out, and Solace takes the time to re-apply their eye makeup and put on some jewellery before heading downstairs. In the lounge, Cal is helping Sym arrange a scarf around his shoulders, accessorised with a fibula — it's the fashion in the Proserpine colony, although admittedly moreso in the colder months.

Together, the three of them head across the commons, joined by Alec and Neo. Juniper has successfully been wrangled into a little yellow dress, and immediately demands to be held by Sym while Neoteny and Sym talk about the children about to start school.

Vida and Vespers are waiting outside the massive Gardener-created bower that the opening ceremony of Vertumnalia is held at, along with the rest of the family. There's a mismatched lot — Theorem is dressed in the full formal regalia of the Governor of Vertumna, although no doubt she'll be stripping down to her shirtsleeves, Quill has conceded to the occasion by wearing a shirt with no food stains on it, Vida is in her rather dramatic performance outfit with her lips painted deep bloody red, and the children are just as mismatched with the adults and each other.

Vespers stands out by virtue of being the picture of tasteful restraint, although the impression is saved from becoming too prim by her perpetually-tousled hair and the slightly roguish way her best clothes sit on her. "Ren," she says, "Detrivore's been stealing her mother's lipstick so often Vida had to buy her a tube of her own."

"You say that like she didn't ask permission every time, or ask for her own as a birthday gift," Vida laughs, while Dita stick her tongue out, "where's Cosy? Already inside?"

"She had family time this afternoon," Vespers smiles, "just her and her Dads and Tig. They've grabbed us a spot with a good view of the stage."

Oh, bless Rus and Richter. "Sweet, I want to grill Uncle Tig about the geothermal activity on the coast," Dita's eyes light up, "he was saying they found some really interesting things during his last long haul exploration."

"Is that so?" Sol asks, intrigued. The Proserpine colony sits close to a geothermal hotspot — there are natural hot springs, and the colony itself sits inside a caldera.

Quill starts ushering them towards the bower, looking exasperated. "Dita," they sigh, "petal, if I have to listen to you, your mother, your Grandy and Tig talking about mud for an hour I will develop a condition."

"You made your choices, Quill, now live with them," Theorem smiles, clapping Quill on the shoulder and then going up on her toes to kiss Vida on the cheek, "I'll see you guys after all the formalities?"

"Break all their legs," Neoteny says cheerfully, waving her off, "Vida, don't you need to head to the green room?"

Vida sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. "Me and Quill both," she says significantly, "they're drumming."

"Aye," Quill grins, "but everybody will be looking at you, beautiful, not me."

"Quit flirting and go," Alec complains, pretending to shoo his sister and her partner, "go go go."

Theorem heads in one direction and Vida and Quill in another, and it's surprisingly short work to wrangle their remaining children, Neoteny, and Vida's kids into the bower. True to Vespers' word, Rus and Richter are sitting inside on a picnic blanket with Cosy and Integer, a second blanket spread out next to them.

"Dita," Cosy calls out, "you look beautiful! Can I have a twirl, please?"

Pleased, Dita obligingly spins, coppery skirt flaring out dramatically. Cosy smiles, beckoning Dita closer. "I love the hair too, how did you do it? You complained your hair wouldn't hold a curl…"

Dita sits down next to Cosy, already launching into an explanation of something called a "sugar set", while Teo and Neoteny have pulled up Neo's holopalm to show Vespers pictures of the schoolchildren's art projects.

Solace sits down, Cal's arm around their shoulders. The bower provides shelter from the Dust sun, and the grass underneath is littered with families sitting on picnic blankets. There's an outdoor bar, manned by Rex and Mor, and tables set out piled high with food.

Theorem walks on stage in a sweep of Command-blue stole, to shouts of greeting from the collected colonists. "Welcome, welcome," she grins, "and an extra warm welcome to our good friends from the Proserpine colony and my counterpart, Castellan Nimbus. We've had a good year this year — it is my great pleasure to announce that the refurbishment of the creche is nearly complete, and First Steward Corona looks forward to welcoming the colony's children to their new bunkrooms and play areas. Our next project is an upgrade to the schoolhouse, which we will be beginning in Quiet."

"However, I know what you're all here for. Geoponics have introduced a few new crops this year, and we also have a delivery of coastal foodstuffs that the kitchen has cooked up," she gestures to the tables, "so there should be some exciting new foodstuffs at the table this year. As our guests, please allow our friends from Proserpine to help themselves first, but don't worry — there is more of everything coming."

"Auntie," Ali says immediately, "go and eat before you and Teo and Auncle Neo get too busy yakking."

Vespers rolls her eyes, standing up and beckoning to Cosy and Tig. "Come, come," she says, "before you all get talking about geothermal mud or whatever."

"Food, then videos of geysers," Rus laughs, "get your priorities straight, my loves."

As the sun sinks closer to the horizon and Solace is working their way through their second helping, Theorem reappears. As expected, her jacket and stole have been discarded, leaving her in tunic, trousers, and shirtsleeves. "I made sure Vida and Quill got a plate each," she says without preamble, "you guys good?"

"I think I need to go home and have a sleep," Richter sighs, "but I'm also so full I can't move. That was a good meal."

Cal elbows him gently. "Vida's up soon, after her set you'll have room again."

"Come take a walk with me, Rich," Rus smiles, "for both our digestions. They haven't even brought out the desserts yet. We can go bother Nimbus and Grady for pictures of the grandbabies and the gossip about the extension to the greenhouses."

"Oh, twist my arm," Richter rolls his eyes, standing up with a grunt and following his husband towards where Nimbus and half his polycule are holding court.

Theorem watches them go. "I ought to catch up with Nimbus," she sighs, "see who he thinks I might be dealing with this time next year. I owe him a great deal."

"He'll be here for the whole week," Solace assures her, "you'll have time. Sit down, have you had anything to eat?"

Theorem immediately looks guilty. "Mom," Ali complains, "sit down, I'm getting you a plate."

"Allotroph—" Theorem starts, but Ali has already got up and strode off.

"Sit," Sym gestures, "you should be able to enjoy the festivities too. Busy day, I take it?"

Solace gazes off towards the stage. The sun is low, bathing the bower in orange and pink-tinted light, and they catch the age of a diaphanous green-black skirt. Without ceremony, some of the musicians have taken the stage — Quill sits down behind the drum kit, while beside them Interpolate fusses over a keyboard. They note, with pleasure, that Ian is also on stage with a guitar. He's doing a good job of covering his nerve at performing with older and more experienced musicians — although, unlike his father, Reliance doesn't have a tail to give him away.

Then, without fanfare, Vida strides on stage, barefoot with her hair loose down her back. "Good evening Vertumna," she calls out, "I trust you're all having a good evening. We're clearing a bit of a dance floor, as I'm sure you can tell, and I hope to give you all a very good reason to use it."

"Vertumnalia encompasses the longest days of the Vertumnan year," Vida continues, over the strains of music slowly rising in volume, "from here, the nights grow longer, the days shorter, until the darkness of Glow swallows the last of the year. Today we feast, we dance, we celebrate, and we hope that carries us through the rest of the year til the suns rise once more. If this has been a good year for you — celebrate your good fortune. If it's been a hard one, I invite you to sweat it out on the dance floor. Leave it all behind, let the rains of Wet wash it away."

Solace watches the dance floor. Anemone is dancing with Marz and Nomi, and for a moment in the ruddy light of sunset her hair looks ginger rather than the silver Solace knows it is. Nimbus's boyfriend Digby has hauled him onto the floor, with a jaunty wave to Grady where she stands talking to Rex. Vida opens her arms, smiling beatifically, and music crashes into the crowd like a wave.

A moment later, Vida's cthonic contralto joins the wall of noise, Vida herself prowling across the stage. Solace wonders what kind of Gardener she'll make — Vida who decided the best thing she could do for the colony was care for their mental wellbeing, even though everyone could see how strong the pull Vertumna had on her was. Strange, wild Viridescent.

Cal's hand closes around theirs. "Come on," he murmurs, "Sym, you dancing?"

"I think I'll stay with Theo," Sym smiles, "to make sure she eats her meal. Ali's on their way back, it looks like they waited for the kitchens to replenish some of the food."

Solace nods, rising to their feet and allowing Cal to pull them down the hill towards the dancers. Vida has launched into the second song on her setlist, this one faster. Solace knows how this works — the music will get faster and more frantic, Vida cavorting and sashaying with increasing abandon, and then slowly bring the colonists back to themselves before one final vicious and joyful song.

The fact that she doesn't even break a sweat as she stalks across the stage only adds to the impression of…not otherworldliness, exactly. Vida is very much of the world, possibly more than most. The dancing colonists are not transported, they are here, in their own bodies, sweating out anything they have to leave behind.

Solace joins them, listening to Vida singing here I can take up the whole of the sky, unfurling, becoming my full size. The music takes them, subsuming them into the crowd of colonists.

Solace imagines the hurt seeping out their pores onto the dry grass of Dust, the oncoming rain of Wet washing the pain into the gutters and the drainage and the darkness of Glow swallowing it all. They picture it sinking into the ground, to bloom in strange new shapes next year.

glow, year 85 post landing, proserpine colony

"Paramour!"

"Corona!"

"Olivaceous!"

"Ideation!"

"Basorexia!"

Across from Solace, Axiom lifts xer glass and calls out "Marzipan," and his voice only cracks a little. Next to them, Amity squeezes her spouses's hand, violet eyes glittering with unshed tears. Solace gives them both a sympathetic smile.

This is the first year Marz's name has joined the litany. A moment later, Noni disentangles herself from her family to come sit with them, retrieving a hanky and handing it quietly to Ax.

Next to Solace, Vespertine looks solemn. On her other side, Cosy lifts her glass and calls out "Cirrus," her voice unwavering despite the raw grief in her eyes.

late pollen, year 90 post landing

"Are her eyes supposed to be open?" Vespertine asks, leaning on her cane to get a better look in the vat.

Sym cranes his neck a little. Viridescent looks back at him, with an amused quirk of her eyebrow. "I don't know," he admits, "Dysthymia just…went to sleep."

Vespers nods, still looking down at her sister. "She's stopped breathing," she observes, "oh, no — just slowly."

Inside the vat, Vida laughs. Teo leans tentatively on the side of the vat, looking down at his mother's face for a moment, and after a moment Ali stands on their tiptoes to join him. Vida smiles back at them, blinking slowly.

"One last surprise, I suppose," Theorem murmurs, "is it okay if we stay? For a few hours, or until she's no longer responsive?"

Sym frowns. "Things may start to happen to her body," he says tentatively, "they may be upsetting or unsettling. But if you are willing to risk that…"

He looks down at Vida, who simply shrugs, silver hair floating around her like pondweed. "She can hear us," Quill says decisively, and Dita nods from beside them, "that settles it."

—

??? somewhere

Solace stares up at the wormhole, frowning. Yes. They remember this. They remember this night, with the faceless.

They nearly touched something, they know it. The massive eye of the wormhole looking down at them, and the feeling they were on the precipice of something that they turned away from at the last moment to sneak into their quarters and dream strange dreams.

They turn to do the same thing again, to head through the gap in the trees and towards the colony, but it's not there. There's just…trees.

All the same, they know the way home. Solace sets off, into the treeline, taking care to be quiet. There — a gap, and light—

They're back in the clearing, looking up at the wormhole.

Solace takes one step forward, then another. They're dead. They're dead, right? Their memory is fuzzy — they'd been sick…and now they're here, alone with the wormhole.

Slowly, they tilt their head back to look up, and the wormhole opens

not like an eye

like a maw

YEAR 11 ON BOARD THE STRATOSPHERIC

In the bowels of the ship, a newborn infant draws a first lungful of the ship's recycled air.

— WAKE UP AGAIN