Chapter Text

they say there's good grief
but how can you tell it from the bad
maybe it's only in the way
good grief's the one that's in the past
—dessa, "good grief"

early pollen, year 34 post landing

Viridescent rises with the birds, which is how she likes it. Some of her friends tell her there's something wrong with her, but that's not how she feels at all. It's probably genetic, considering her father often wakes before the sun is up and her Ren typically is soon to follow.

Early mornings in the colony are quiet, and now that she has her own tiny quarters, she can go to bed at nine and rise with the sun as much as she likes. She still pulls shifts at Expeditions and Geoponics now and then, and the hours are easy to keep.

So Vida gets out of bed and does her morning yoga, showers and braids her river of green-and-gold hair, and drinks a cup of tea on her balcony. Then, at seven, she puts on her outdoor gear before she leaves her quarters and heads down across the commons to the small terraced house that belongs to her parents.

She's the first to arrive, and naturally her parents are also already awake. The kitchen lights are on, and her father and Sym are in the process of pulling up a couple of extra chairs. The air smells like fresh bread and spices, and before Vida is even in the door Solace is pouring hot blep into a mug.

"Good morning, Ren," Vida grins, accepting the mug gratefully, "Do you think we can eat all the peppers out of the shakshuka before my sister arrives?"

Solace laughs, hands on hips. "When it gets to be after seven thirty and she's officially late. Alec's up, he's just getting dressed, so he'll be down in a minute."

"I am poised the minute the clock ticks over," Vida sits down with her mug, listening to the sound of footsteps upstairs until her youngest sibling comes into view, "ey, Critter!"

"Ey, Vida," Alacrity replies, bouncing on his feet gleefully, "stars, I'm hungry. I think I'm gonna have a growth spurt soon, right?"

Cal laughs, clapping Alacrity on the shoulder as he passes. "Any day now, kid," he grins, "although your donor's genes might screw you over there."

"As long as I'm taller than Vessie," Alacrity says cheerfully, "it'll really tick her off."

There's a scuff in the doorway, then Vida hears Vespertine snort. "Vida can fit me under her chin," she grins, "there's nothing you can do to me."

"Happy birthday, Vespers," Vida cheers, "you were four minute short of me getting free reign to eat all the peppers! How does sixteen feel?"

Vespertine accepts a bowl and a chunk of bread, loading it with hot shakshuka. "Well, Cosy and I got up early to watch the sunrise from the roof of Engineering and drink coffee, so…nice, so far! Not any different."

Her younger sister looks a little tired, but happy. She's dressed plainly but tidily, short blue-and-gold hair neatly combed, bright and alert. "Still up for our girly hike today?" Vida leans her chin in her hand, "Maybe you'll be lucky and see a certain someone when we go pick up your birthday picnic?"

"Still up for it so I can dump you in a creek," Vespers smirks, "or try to. Do we need to grab leftovers for lunch, or have you thought of that?"

"Vida asked Indy and Quill to make you guys a picnic," Sol adds, sitting down with their own bowl of food, "and I think your Pa is probably packing one million extra treats."

Vespers turns a little pink at the mention of Indy, suddenly very interested in her food. "If Pa packs too much I'll just bring it home and share it," she smiles, "everybody wins."

"Don't hold back," Cal points at her, "you're a growing girl, you need to eat proper meals. Vida, make sure she's not so distracted taking photographs she doesn't eat."

Vida salutes, dragging hot bread through a bowlful of eggs and sauce and shoving it in her mouth. Sym sits down next to her with his own plate — Sym doesn't need to eat, but seems to enjoy communal meals, so she's pretty sure he only eats communally or when someone offers him food, to be polite.

"Do you have enough water, and also a first aid kit, and flares, and sunscreen and a communicator?" he asks, tearing his bread into pieces.

Vespers rolls her eyes. "We need to check them out from Expeditions first," she says, "so not yet. Vida's got a packing list and everything."

"Scamps honour," Vida grins, "we will be prepared for anything."

"Vida's an adult," Sol points out, "and Vespertine is hitting her majority next year. They're fine, Sym, you fusspot."

Sym makes a moue, silvery eyes wide. Vida punches him gently on the arm. "I promise we're prepared," she says, "and it's just a day trip. We'll be home mid-afternoon."

"You'll always be babies to me," Sym replies, "although I am sure an experienced hiker such as yourself has taken all necessary preparations."

Vespers accepts a mug of blep, liberally sweetened with sugarbug syrup. "We're just going out to some scenic places to take reference photos so I can paint," she smiles, "not…ah, what was that phrase? Bushwacking?"

"That sounds lewd," Alacrity says mildly, "don't get an ass rash."

"We are not bushwacking or "bushwacking"," Vida says, making airquotes with the hand not holding a piece of flatbread, "so it doesn't matter anyway. We're gonna have a nice lunch and Vespers is going to take one million photos."

Cal significantly places a bottle of sunscreen on the table. "Already sunscreened up," Vespers promises, "you know I don't mess around."

"Neither does the Vertumnan sun," Sol adds, "so make sure you pack some and reapply."

Vida grins, leaning her chin on one hand. Overall, she likes that her parents sweat the small stuff. They trust her competence and decision-making with the big things, but they fuss about extra snacks and sunscreen. She's an adult, and Vespers isn't far behind her, but that doesn't mean she can never lean on them again.

Theorem: Tell little Vee happy birthday from me! <3
Viridescent: Can do, but you might catch us on our way out!
Colloquial: there's lavender and honey caramels in the picnic basket btw from uncle rus and cosy, and i made all her fave snax
Viridescent: Quill that's so sweet, she's probs gonna cry at this rate 😅
Colloquial: if she doesn't want people to do nice things for her she shouldn't be such a sweetiepie lol
Theorem: Also you paid Quill and Indy good kudos to make that picnic so obvs they're not gonna half ass
Colloquial: yeah that too lol
Viridescent: still, mega appreciate it. <3

"Theo says happy birthday, by the by," Vida looks up from her messages, "just in case we don't run into her later."

Vespers smiles briefly by way of response. "Speaking of happy birthday wishes," Alec grins, "has Indy wished you a happy birthday yet?"

"We'll see them at the kitchens on our way out," Vespers replies, too quickly, "so no point in messaging."

Over Vespers' head, Cal points at her and mouths is this anything, and Vida shakes her head infinitesimally. Ves gets flustered talking to Indy, because Indy is very cute, but that's as far as it goes. She knows who Ves would like to be dating, but that's not their parents business.

"I'll see you guys at dinner," Alacrity grins, "Stratus has a box of parts nobody has a use for and he and I are gonna try and build something."

"But your eyebrows only just grew back," Sol sighs, pinching the bridge of their nose, "okay, have fun, please remember to wear face protection. I love you very much."

Alacrity gets up from the table. "Scrape your dishes and put them in the washer before you head out," Cal tells him, before turning to Vida and Vespers, the latter of whom is already rising with her own empty plate, "but you, miss, don't have to do dishes on your birthday.

"It'll keep me busy while Vida has seconds," Vespers grins, "aren't you finished growing?"

Vida grins at her. "You know my enhancement needs the extra calories, Vessie."

Vespers sticks her tongue out. Sol laughs, glancing at Cal, who is steadily working his way through a second helping of his own. "Big bodies need big fuel," they say, "and that's before we stacked an enhancement that consumed calories on top. Speaking of which, are you sure you've had enough?"

"I need to leave room for the picnic," Ves laughs, "I bet Pa and Grandy are putting in extra just in case as we speak."

"They probably are," Cal says reflectively, "well, it'll be a workout carrying it around…you'll be grateful for the extra."

Indeed, when they arrive at the kitchen Sal bursts out, arms spread wide. "Here's the birthday girl," he proclaims, "I can't believe you're sixteen already, it feels like yesterday you fit on my forearm!"

"Okay, we're doing this," Vespers chuckles, reaching up to pull Salutation into a hug. Unlike Vida, she needs to stretch up onto her tiptoes to do so — Salutation is a full foot taller than her, one of the biggest men in the colony.

Sal squeezes her tightly, visibly misty-eyed. Behind him, a willowy figure with a greying indigo braid and a shorter person with red-and-purple hair have emerged from the kitchen. Indy is carrying a picnic basket, an amused look on their face. "One birthday picnic feast," they say grandly, "signed, sealed, aaaaaaand delivered to our best girl."

"Morning, Vida," Ceph grins, "I think we might have, maybe, packed enough food. There's a big flask of that hot red stuff in there, too."

Her favourite! "Fucking choice," Vida hugs her grandparent, leaning her cheek against theirs and rocking them back and forth.

Cepheid laughs, swatting at her. "Don't fucking cuss, terrible girl," they snort, "and don't waggle me around like that either, I can hear my spine crunching."

"I could pick you up and swing you around," Vida muses, "I bet I could lift you."

"Save it for Quill," Indy pats her heavily on the back, hefting the basket, "here, this will keep you from inflicting any further indignities."

Vida accepts the basket, making heavy weather of bracing herself. It's heavy, but not egregiously so. "I've been foiled," she says, "go tell Vespers happy birthday, I'm gonna go thank Quill."

Ceph and Indy both descend on Ves, and Vida ducks through into the kitchen, where Colloquial is unloading a steriliser. "You guys really went above and beyond," Vida says without preamble, "I'm super grateful."

"How grateful?" Quill asks, arching an eyebrow. Vida sets the basket on the benchtop, hooks her fingers under their chin, and leans down to kiss them. Quill giggles into her mouth, grabbing her upper arms for support, and Vida nips at their lower lip playfully before pulling away.

Quill swoons dramatically into her arms, throwing one hand over their brow, and Vida snorts and sets them back on their feet. "That grateful," she smiles, "maybe more, if the food's really good."

"Oho," Quill wiggles their eyebrows naughtily, "I'm getting so kissed later, is what I'm hearing."

"Confident," Vida muses, "we'll see where it gets you. Seriously, though, this does mean a lot to me."

Quill grins, turning back to the steriliser. "I know, that's why I did it. Now get, you're distracting me."

Vida picks up the basket and heads back out, to find Ves waiting, hands folded in front of her. "We gotta go," she grins, "you missed Uncle Milly, and I'm worried if we lollygag around much longer I'll get waylaid again."

"Better skedaddle," Vida agrees, "with enough food to sustain us for three days."

"Please," Sal looks mock offended, "don't insult me. Four to five."

At the Expeditions depot, Utopia is waiting, with a key fob for one of the vehicles in her hand. "Your chariot awaits, sweets," she grins, "don't take it on any joyrides now."

"Vida's driving," Vespers deadpans, "so she's at fault for any incidents."

Utopia nods wisely. "Gotta watch out for that Viridescent," she says, "she's a wild one. You two have fun, I'll expect you back around three or four?"

"At the very latest," Vida replies, "maybe earlier, depending on when Ves gets tired or runs out of photographs. How've you been?"

"Busy," she grins, "just got back from another trip to the coast. I've seen the new colony site, it's really something else."

Vespers' eyes light up, wide and curious. "I hear it's cold," she says, "like, cold as it was on the ship?"

"Yeah, in Quiet," Utopia confirms, "and it's more humid overall. Wet's gonna be interesting, I'll tell you what. Beautiful views, though, we put photos up on the holonet but they really don't do the place justice."

"Wow," Vespers breathes, "I mean — I saw the photos, they're amazing."

Vida busies herself loading the transport with the basket, along with a medkit and flare for emergencies and a huge canteen. There's plenty of potable water out there, much of it safe to drink without even needing to boil it, but best to be prepared.

"Hey, you might get the chance to see it for yourself," Utopia grins, "there'll be trade, and travel, even if you're not one of the initial one hundred."

Vespers blinks. "Uh, yeah," she says, "I guess I could see it for myself…it feels like such a long way away, though."

"I mean, they're starting construction next year," Vida says, "and campaigning for the new Governor, or whatever it is they're gonna call it. I wonder who's gonna run?"

Utopia nods, stroking her chin. "Who indeed," she says, "Vida, you're old enough to vote in Engineering, who's your pick?"

Oh. Shit. "Well," Vida replies thoughtfully, "that depends if my job stays with Engineering. I might be Counsellor Vida with the Stewards, depending on how things shake out. But, um, it depends who the candidates are?"

"Wise," Utopia nods, "do you think Counselling should fall under Stewardship?"

Damn, Aunty Pia with the tough questions. This is why Vida likes her, though. "I think there are arguments for both," Vida scratches her head, "but also, we're looking at rejigging the departments right now, and it's basically confirmed that Quarters is gonna be splitting. So…who knows?"

"Wait, Quarters is splitting?" Vespers asks, wide-eyed.

Vida waves a hand. "Anne barely works in the kitchens anymore. And neither does Corona. Every decision in the kitchens is being made by Uncle Milly. Nan's been disentangling herself from the Kitchens since Quill and I were like…thirteen, fourteen."

Vespers whistles. "I didn't know that," she says reflectively, "I guess the departments made sense when landing happened, with the people they had available. Like, we have the schoolteachers and tutors in Quarters now."

"You would know, nerd," Vida says affectionately, ruffling Vespertine's hair. Vespers has wanted to be a teacher since she was about eight years old, with a certainty Vida envies.

And it's not that Ves has never considered anything else, either. Vespertine is good at a lot of things, and willing to try even more. But like a lodestone, she comes back to the classroom, sitting at a desk teaching Amity and Ranunculus how to write an essay with endless patience.

It's not something she can understand. Vida wants to be a counsellor, but that's a decision. If anything, sometimes, she feels like she's fighting against her nature.

Beyond the colony walls, the Vertumnan jungle stretches out. The planet is vast, far bigger than Viridescent's little home. They're tiny and insignificant, the world wide enough that Vida could spend her whole life turning it over for every secret it holds.

But instead, Vida turns towards the fragile human hearts of her fellow colonists, many of them wounded. Those people deserve care, and years from now Vida and Cosy will be the people providing that care, alongside Congruence.

And when she needs to escape, to rise above the noise of other people's pain, the jungle embraces her. Out here, she can turn off her holopalm and no one can reach her. Not unless she brings them with her, anyway. The wilderness is so vast that they would never find her if she didn't want to be found.

But Vida does want to be found. She always wants to be found. She wants to leave and come back to the people who love her, to lay her head at the colony's human hearth knowing that when she needs to go, the trees and cliffs and ravines will swallow her until she's ready to come back.

The drive out of the colony is quiet. They drive past one of the watchtowers, where Quill's older sister Lexicon sits drinking tea out of a thermos. "Beautiful day for it," she calls out, "take lots of photos, yeah?"

"You betcha!" Vespertine calls back, waving. Vida grins, doffing her sunhat to the distant figure before returning her eyes to the track.

The watchtower slides out of sight, and Lex with it. Vida waits until she's well out of sight before she takes a deep breath. "I went as far as I could get, and the cedars like spires, wasting my god-damned time—"

Vespertine laughs ruefully, leaning back in her seat. She joins in anyway, her voice lighter and breathier and lovely in its lack of polish: "As far as I could get, past the girls late for rehearsal, oh a pirate on the left—"

Vida's the better singer, but that's not the point. The point is out there in the jungle the two of them can be as loud as they want. They don't have to be good, they just need to make noise. If there's anything to hear them, it doesn't care.

"And the cedars like spires, wasting my god-damned time…"

She hears Vespertine fill her lungs in preparation, and throws back her head and howls, "CAUSE IF I AM UNLOVED, I HAVE UNLOVED TOO," and listens to her sister laugh breathlessly, leaning back in the passenger seat.

"AS FAR AS I COULD GET, I WENT AS FAR AS I COULD GET, AND I'M NOT FAR ENOUGH YET! AS FAR AS I—"

Vespertine stops, staring off into the treeline. Vida brakes, frowning. "Vespers, what's up?"

"I thought I saw something," Vespertine says, disconcerted, "just inside the treeline."

Vida frowns, craning her neck to stare into the trees. "Sym," she calls out, "for fucks sake."

"I promise you're not the only reason I'm out here," Sym emerges from the trees, "I have business to attend to in the area."

Vespers facepalms. "Well," she says, pointing, "if you're heading that way, you may as well let us give you a ride?"

"I wouldn't want to interrupt," Sym replies, "it sounded like you were having a lovely time. I'm looking into something nearby, so I won't keep you."

"Oh," Vida sighs, "work stuff. See you later, Envoy."

Sym inclines his head, then vanishes back into the trees. "How did you know it was him?" Vespertine asks, chewing her lower lip.

"Because someone that stealthy is either Sym or Uncle Rus," Vida replies, "and Rus would have come out to say hi."

Vespertine rolls her eyes, and the two of them continue in silence, the track winding through the forest towards the Ridges. The Wresting Ridge makes for beautiful, forbidding views, and strange stark paintings. Vida has one of them hanging in pride of place in her apartment's little lounge, blue and gold and vertiginous.

"Vida," Vespertine says eventually, "who do you think will go to Proserpine?"

Vida gives this some consideration. "Um, in my department? I know Trim and Mia are going. Mona isn't sure, she'll go if they need her. Ida might, but that would mean maybe leaving behind Patch. Stratus says it depends on if Expeditions can spare his wife. What about you?"

"Well," Vespers chews her bottom lip, "Aunty Grady is going, obviously. Auncle Az is thinking about it. Auntie Mor might, it depends if they send Uncle Ben. Cass is staying, but they're gonna need a teacher for the kids…which means either Patina, or they send me."

"Oh, shit," Vida blinks, "they told you that might happen?"

Vespers gestures noncommittally. "They're also talking about a correspondence school," she says, "and I'm pretty sure they wouldn't send me out there before I finished learning everything I can from Cass and Patty and Congruence. But depending on how long deploying takes and how many kids are in the first and second waves..."

Vida pauses, considering this idea for a moment. Her sister, a week's journey away. "…Do you want to go?"

"I," Vespers falters, "sort of. But I don't want to leave you…or Cosy."

Cosine. Vespers' best friend. Vida's fellow trainee counsellor. And, unfortunately, Vespers' unrequited first love.

"The coastal colony is going to need a counsellor," Vida points out, "we can do remote consultation in the short term, but…unless someone younger wants to do it too, and I'm not ruling that out…"

"So, either you or Cosy are probably going," Vespers says, "is what you're saying."

Vida nods, keeping her eyes on the track. "Probably, yeah. Maybe not permanently…but. Yeah."

Vespers is silent. "I don't want to be apart from you," she sighs, "or Cosy. And I know I'll get over it and maybe it would be better if we were apart, but…"

Aw man, teen heartbreak is the worst. "If it's any comfort at all," Vida replies, "it's unlikely me and my datefriends will all stay in the same colony."

She tries not to think about that part. She wants what she has with Theo and Quill to be forever, but most relationships that start when you're eighteen don't last. Vida tells herself this often, she knows it academically, and it feels unfair that she has to hurt in advance.

"That's not comforting at all," Vespertine says sadly, "I hate it. And it doesn't make things with me and Cosy less weird."

Vespertine's voice wobbles a bit. "Oh, Ves," Vida sighs, fishing in her pockets for a hanky, "it's your birthday, don't cry over girls."

"It's so shit," Ves mumbles wetly, "it's not like she doesn't love me, just…not like that. She said she doesn't think she can. And I think she feels guilty about it but that's not her fault!"

Vida halts the vehicle and leans over to wrap her arms around her sister, leaning her cheek on Ves's blue-and-yellow hair. "Does she know you don't think it's her fault?"

Vespers says nothing. "You should tell her," Vida continues, Vespers' hair tickling her jaw, "you should tell her everything you just told me if you haven't already. I know she's meant to be the one studying clinical psychology and all, but you can know stuff and still feel like it's not true."

"My feelings are my fault," Vespers sobs into Vida's shoulder, "not Cosy's. Cosy's perfect the way she is."

"Baby girl, my stupid sprout," Vida sighs, "one more time, you need to explicitly say these things."

Vespers pulls away, taking the hanky and blotting at her eyes. "Cosy said I'm not stupid for feeling that way about her, it happens to most people…just not Cosy yet, maybe ever."

"Cosy is being wise and saying things to you out loud directly," Vida smiles, gently ruffling Vespers hair. She likes Cosine quite a lot, because although Cosine is not the nicest or friendliest person in the colony by a long shot she is conscientious and kind, in the way of someone who has learned to do those things on purpose.

Vespers sniffles, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry I'm being a sad-sack on my nice birthday hike," she sighs, "I just…"

"The day's barely started," Vida pointed out, "we can still have a nice girlie adventure. I believe in us. Come on, we're nearly at the track."

Laughing wetly, Vespers straightens up. "I know what will fix me," she proclaims, "walking for an hour straight."

"That's the spirit," Vida laughs, restarting the vehicle and setting off.

A few times, she sees something in the trees out of the corner of her eye — Sym, being a worrywart. For an immortal Gardener, he sure does worry. Vida sometimes wonders if that's why he worries — if something grievous happened to Sym, he'd be back, but her and her family will live and die and be gone for good.

It suits her, to think that one day the colonists will truly be part of Vertumna, their remains nourishing the earth. They'll be part of the cycle of life here, well and truly. They'll belong to this planet, with Earth as distant antecedent.

She parks the vehicle and dismounts, retrieving the hamper. Vespers stretches, shaking out her limbs and bouncing on the balls of her feet. "You sure you don't need a hand carrying that?" she asks, eyeing the hamper.

"I'll let you know if I need a break," Vida replies, because if she says no Vespers will worry. Vida might not have a physical job these days, but she's still strong. She was always one of the bigger kids, eye to eye with Nana Antecedent by the time she was eleven and spending her childhood shovelling dirt and climbing around outdoors.

People had been surprised when she'd expressed an interest in counselling instead, but those people hadn't been paying attention.

Vespers gets out her camera. Holopalms have cameras, but the lenses aren't very sophisticated, and Uncle Stratus had made building a device that interfaces with a holopalm to allow for fine control of focus and shutter speed a project a few years back. Stratus had build it as a novelty more than anything, but a couple of hobbyists had picked up photography subsequently, Vespers among them. It even has a flash, although it mostly goes unused.

As Vida heads down the path, adjusting her broad-brimmed sunhat, she hears a shutter click. "And if you listen," she says, faux-documentarian, "you can hear the rare shutterbug, in it's natural habitat."

"Fuck right off," Vespers laughs, hitting the shutter again.

The tracks is a quite gentle uphill climb, but the sun is hot overhead and the ascent adds up. Thighs burning, the two girls sit down in a shady patch to drink water and reapply sunscreen. There's gentle movement in the trees lining the track, and Vida hides an eyeroll. The downside of a parent who has lived many human lifetimes is that you never stop being a baby.

Vespers looks happy, at least, heartbreak apparently forgotten as her honey-coloured eyes watch a dorbsmoth sunning itself on a nearby rock. As Vida watches, she carefully moves into a crouch and tries to line up a shot.

Vida sits in silence while Vespers slowly aligns her camera, careful not to disturb the dorbsmoth. She's probably taking more care than she needs to, but Vida won't stop her, because it's sweet. Vespers takes "take only photographs, leave only footprints" very seriously, and she's less stealthy than Vida but she's trying so hard.

The dorbsmoth definitely knows Vespers is there and has decided she is no threat, so it obligingly sits there while she takes it's picture, then flies off. Ves picks up her sunhat, then stretches. "Shall we proceed? It's getting close to lunchtime."

"My stomach's not growling yet, but it's thinking about it," Vida admits, rising to her feet. Ves trots off, bare legs smeared with dirt and sunscreen, and Vida follows after.

Honestly, Vespers' birthday couldn't have happened on a nicer day, There's the ever-present pink haze of Pollen, but otherwise it's perfectly clear and sunny. Vida makes note to make Ves reapply sunscreen in a couple more hours, swigging out of her canteen.

Eventually, the trees thin out, and the Western Wresting Ridge spreads out in front of them. They're at the very edge of colony-stewarded territory — the spot Vida chose means taking the long way around, but the views. There are a few easily-climbable rock formations that look over the whole valley, and some interesting cliffs, so plenty to keep Vespertine happy.

Vida finds a flat spot to spread out the picnic rug, and starts unpacking the basket. There's flasks of blep and of a fruit tea Vida is particularly partial to, containers of cold noodle salad sprinkled with crushed nuts, samosas stuffed with spiced watato, hard-boiled and fried eggs nestled in greens and drizzled with sour-sweet sauce. At the bottom, carefully cushioned in tea towels, is a double-layered container of polenta syrup cake at the bottom and Ves's favourite sweets at the top.

"Cosy did this," Vespertine sighs, looking into the container, "didn't she?"

"She wants you to have a nice birthday," Vida replies, "so…yeah, she did."

Ves chews her lip, gazing into the container, then sets it aside. "Dessert last," she says, dry-eyed and reaching for the samosas, "holy shit, Quill and Indy really outdid themselves."

"Kudos were exchanged," Vida admits, "but something that could be carried, could be eaten cold, and would keep us both going through a day of hiking is exactly the kind of challenge Quill likes doing."

Vespers smiles, finding the cutlery at the bottom of the basket. "I think they succeeded," she says, "so, props to them."

The two girls fall into silence as they eat, washing mouthfuls down with tea. There will definitely be leftovers, but Vida suspects Ves will take some of them to share with Cosy in the evening. If there's a lot left over, Vida might end up with some to share around as well.

She catches movement out of the corner of her eye, further into the ridge, but when she turns to look at it there's nothing. Sym's getting on her nerves a little now — she and Ves took every sensible precaution, she even has a plascutter, for an easy day hike during pleasant weather.

Vespers cleans her hands, then picks up her camera and ambles off, eyeing the distance between herself and the ground dropping away before squatting in the dirt. The shutter clicks, and Vida occupies herself packing up the picnic basket before wandering off into the treeline to take a leak.

When she returns, Vespers is lying on her stomach on the ground, sighting down her camera lens, happily kicking her feet. She looks goofy as hell.

Vida smiles, ambling past her towards a patch of scrub. She recognises some of the plants, including a couple that she could bring back to Aunty Grady in exchange for a kudos or first dibs at whatever tasty thing she makes. There's a foraging bag strapped to her hip, so Vida carefully bends down to snip off a few plant fronds.

"Thanks," she whispers, even though odds are nothing is listening.

Take only what you need. Give back everything you can. You eat to live, and one day this planet will receive your remains and eat you to live. We are part of an ecosystem, my green and growing thing. You are a symbiote simply by living and breathing. Nothing in this world is truly apart from you.

"Hey Vida," Vespers calls out, standing next to an irregularly-shaped cliff maybe twice as high as she is tall, "do you reckon you can climb this?"

Vida looks over. Vespers isn't actually asking can you climb this, she's asking will you climb it for me, and the answer is yes. She unfolds, throws her hat gently at the picnic blanket, then bounces gently on her toes and shakes out her limbs.

Vespers lifts the camera, realising what Vida is about to do half a second before Vida takes a running leap past the clicking shutter, grabbing onto the cliff and hauling herself up, arms burning. The toe of one boot finds purchase, then the next. Momentum carries her upwards, faster than thought. Her hand closes on a ledge, and as she pulls herself up over the ledge it takes a moment for conscious thought to catch up.

Cold sweat slides down the back of her neck, the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck prickling, adrenaline and cortisol flooding her system as every atom in Vida's animal brain screams SOMETHING IS HERE.

But the ledge is empty, and Vida is alone as far as the eye can see. She pushes herself up, gets a knee under her, and unfolds to standing, tossing her braid over her shoulder. The shutter clicks again.

Vida shifts her weight, heart hammering, and takes inventory. She feels suddenly tense, heart racing. Her hands feel cold and clammy, and there's sweat on the back of her neck. And she can't place why, like every fibre of her being had expected something here.

"Vida? Are you okay?"

Is she? "Just a bit of vertigo, I think," she calls over her shoulder. There's nothing up there. There's no reason for her heart to be hammering, for her whole body to be acting like it expects to need to fight or run.

Instead, Vida turns around, bracing her hands on her knees. "See?" she smiles, "totally fine."

Vespers gazes up at her for a moment, then nods. The shutter clicks again. "Do you think you can sit down? I think that would be a cool shot?"

"Oh, easy," Vida replies, carefully sitting down and bracing one foot on a sticky-outy bit of rock, "surely you're done taking photos of me though?"

"I wanted a go at some action shots," Vespers says breezily, "thank you for obliging. You need a spotter getting down?"

Probably not, but better safe than sorry. "Yeah," Vida says, "just in case. At worst I might twist my ankle, but that would be embarassing."

The descent is slower, but even then, it's because Vida's taking care and setting a good example. She's a good climber, always has been, but that doesn't mean she never falls. Also, getting airlifted out by Uncle Digby would be an ignoble end to Vespers' birthday hike.

Vida sits down and swigs more water while Vespers takes endless photos of the landscape, plants, and insects, then accompanies her sisters along a short, scenic loop through what is (in her view) the prettiest part of the ridges.

She's inspecting some oddly-crushed foliage when she hears Vespers cry out. Alarmed, heart racing, Vida unfolds to her feet and reaches for her plascutter to find Vespers' exclamation is about the distant figure of a dillypillar winding its way across the landscape.

As the two girls watch, it comes slowly closer, and Vespers slowly lifts her camera. "It's a juvenile," Vida says, "not quite an adult."

"Like us," Vespers smiles, "maybe it's come to join in on our girly hike?"

Vida laughs, imagining them trooping through the jungle with a Dillypillar in tow, like a children's adventure book. "Nomi should write a picture book about it. It'd be cute."

"Oh my gosh," Vespers giggles, "so cute…hold on…"

Another shutter click, then Vespers lowers the camera. "It's getting close to two," she says, "we should head home."

"Good call," Vida acknowledges, "just…I wanna do something. It's goofy, but it just occurred to me that the acoustics here are going to fuck hard."

Vespers snorts, making an exaggerated "well, go right ahead!" gesture, and Vida straightens up and fills her lungs fill.

Her voice is her instrument. Vida plays guitar too, but she needs nothing but her own body to sing. Her voice is her own, like the burning muscles of her legs, like the joints of her fingers, like her eyes. Her voice is soft when speaking, low and modulated, but she knows what it can do when she is allowed to be her true size.

Vida's voice tears its way out of her lungs, a full-throated chthonic howl that seems too large for her body, to come from some place deep in the earth below her feet—

"I belong bodily to the earth, I'm just wearing old bones from those who came first! There are many more flames when mine is gone, they will build me no shrines and sing me no songs!"

Her voice echoes back at here, eerie. Vida grins, exhilarated.

"-will build me no shrines and sing me no songs!"

Vida frowns. That's…that no longer sounds like her.

She glances sideways at Vespers, who is frowning slightly. "Was that…?"

Was that you?

No. Something is here. Something that is paying attention to her and Vespers.

"We're allowed to be here," Vida calls out, "we're still inside human-stewarded territory. If you have ill intent towards us, harming us constitutes a treaty breach. Please kindly leave us alone, we will be leaving this area in short order."

Vida knows exactly where the edge of human-stewarded territory is. She can see it from here, a jagged set of rock formations like teeth marking the edge of the valley. They're already calling them Solace's Maw.

Vespers bites her lip anxiously, golden eyes wide and frightened.

"-far as i could get, i went as far as i could get-"

It's a strange and choppy voice, like it was assembled from a bunch of holovid clips, light and tuneless. More than that, though, the mere sound of it makes her break out in a cold sweat, every fibre of her being preparing to flee or fight.

Next to her, Vespers freezes, face ashen. Vida grasps her arm and pulls her away, back towards where the hamper sits abandoned.

"We are leaving now," she repeats, louder, keeping her eyes fixed on the direction the voice came from. She still hasn't seen anything, which disconcerts her. There's nowhere a voice that sounded so close could hide.

Probably…some sort of acoustic trick, but Vida's not willing to bet. Vespertine hasn't been trained with a weapon, so it's best not to give her one. Vida spent enough time in Expeditions that they taught her a little, and her Uncle Digby had taught her a little more because we might have peace with the gardeners, baby girl, but humans don't have the greatest track record with being good to each other. Best be safe, eh?

Not that there's much she can do against a Gardener. She's strong, and fast, but the last time she got sick Sym was able to pick her up and carry her to bed like she was a shivering hopeye kitten and not a six-foot-one grown woman.

Vida hefts the hamper on her hip, her other hand hooked around Vespers' elbow, and walks towards the track. "Do you have a flare?" she asks quietly.

"In my shorts pocket," Vespers replies, too evenly.

Vida nods. "Mine's in my foraging bag. Don't hesitate. Okay?"

Vespers nods, breathing shallowly. Unlike Vida, she's bathed in sweat, pupils dilated, but she seems to be mostly keeping it together.

"Come on," Vida murmurs, picking her way down the track, heart hammering. Vespers follows after her, and Vida listens out for anything unusual under the sound of Vespers' breathing and the crunch of dirt underfoot.

There's nothing. All the little hairs on her arms stand on end, because there should be something. The noises of small animals and birds, distant skittering things and the scuffle of dorbsmoths.

But all she can hear is Vespers walking, her own breathing like a bellows in her chest, and the rustle of wind in the trees.

Vida bares her teeth in discomfort. Everything about this situation sets her teeth on edge. A Surveyor she may not be, but she has a feel for the world outside the colony. It's her place, her escape, the place she goes to when she needs peace. It feels like a violation, for this…whatever it is to make her feel afraid in the one place she comes to rise above the noise.

Whatever this being is, she can't tell if it means ill. But it's been following her and Vespers for hours without showing its face, and that's not a sign of honest intentions.

Next to her, Vespers sniffs, but keeps walking. Vida stops for a moment, reaching out to take her hand. Her sister looks frightened, golden eyes wide and a little teary, but she keeps on walking without comment or complaint.

They walk in silence. Vida dares to open her holoeye and check their distance to the map flag for the start of the trail. They're maybe ten minutes from the vehicle. It doesn't feel like they've been walking for nearly an hour, and she wants to think that they're safe, but it's still too quiet.

She clutches Vespers' sweat-slippery hand tighter and speeds up. She just needs to get to the vehicle, off the track, then she can get Vespertine to safety and talk to Sym. It's going to be okay. She'll— she'll do what she needs to do, and—

"not far enough yet…"

Vespers screams a little, recoiling. The sound came from the trees right next to them, uncannily close to Vida's voice in cadence but with a pitch and timbre all wrong. Vida's voice is low and soft, with all the resonance and lung capacity of her father at her disposal only when she wants it. This voice is light and raspy, and it strikes a chord in her memory she can't identify.

Vida's head whips around, eyes narrowing. There's a shadow in the trees, so still she would miss it, but it's too still. It's…smaller than she was expecting. She has to look down a little, at where she assumes its face is.

"Sol," it says.

Vida's blood runs cold. She thrusts out an arm, shepherding Vespers behind her. "No," she says, voice clear and even, "and if you want to talk to the ambassador, you have to go through the proper channels."

Silence. The thing in the trees still hasn't moved. The — the Gardener, she thinks, although she's not sure. Most Gardeners don't want to deal with humans directly, they go via Sym. Maybe an oddly intelligent animal every now and again, but she's never seen one be humanoid outside of Sym.

"Sol," it says again. Its voice sounds strange, halting, more like a sound-bite clipped from a vid than someone really speaking.

"I'm not Sol," Vespers replies plaintively, "they're my Ren. If you need to talk to them, you need to go via the Envoy."

The thing in the trees moves for the first time. It's suddenly closer, still in the shadows, but Vida can see the whites of its eyes. It has a face, but what she can make out makes her blood turn into ice-cold piss. It's strangely flat, the dark-grey eyes too large and too far apart and utterly lightless.

"Ren," it says, in that strange chop-and-change voice, like the syllable was extracted from a recording. A pallid hand reaches out from the trees, towards Vespers.

She should be panicking. She should be running. But those thoughts seem distant, and instead Vida feels calm and dreamlike, like she's in suspended animation.

Vida observes, thinking dully that something is wrong, as the thing in the trees reaches for Vespers. It's arm is too long, the joints hinging together incorrectly, the fingers strange and rubbery and devoid of fingernails.

Vespers blinks, almost sleepily, then shakes herself and shrieks in pure animal terror. She doesn't reach for the flare, or for a weapon she's not carrying. Instead, she thrusts her own arm forward and the camera flash goes off, bright and vicious.

For a fraction of a second, the scene is violently illuminated. The thing in the trees looks like someone tried to shape a human out of clay as an amateurish first effort — the limbs are long and almost liquid-looking, as if sagging under their own weight, the legs too spindly, the eyes too large for the face. It's wearing some sort of full-body garment made of long thin leaves, like a willow. Vespers screams again, high and frightened.

It doesn't blink, pupils shrinking to pinpricks against too-white sclera. The strange and unnatural calm has fled, the creature cringing into the underbrush, and Vida is the most afraid she has ever been in her life.

More than that, though, she's fucking furious.

"You keep your hands off her," Vida thunders, pushing Vespers behind her, "or I'll send you back to the Array in fucking pieces!"

Her plascutter and her knife are too short range, but Vida's hand closes around the flare. It's not supposed to be a weapon, but this isn't supposed to happen.

"Back off," she barks, holding the flare out in front of her, "if you try to touch either of us again, we'll all find out how much this thing hurts when it hits you. "

The thing straightens up, pupils slowly dilating. It's mouth opens, and it's just a hole, with no sign of tongue or teeth.

That unnatural, dreamy calm starts to settle on Vida again, but she's too angry. She can feel the fog trying to soak into her, slowing her heartbeat and her breathing, and she fights it with all the willpower she possesses.

Vida takes the cap off her flare, hands shaking. "Last chance," she says, "leave us alone."

It looks at her, as if finally noticing her properly. It opens its awful blank maw, the wrong size and shape for a mouth, and Vida tightens her grip on the flare and lifts it. Her knuckles creak.

Then her vision goes dark and blurry, and she stumbles backwards, scrambling to right herself and fumbling both the basket and the flare. Both crash to the ground with a sound that rattles her teeth, and a remote part of Vida hopes none of the containers inside aren't broken—

Sym is standing between her and Vespers and the creature, far too still. "That's quite enough," he says coldly, "Viridescent, Vespertine, are you quite alright? Has this — have you been harmed?"

"It tried to touch Vespers and she set off a camera flash in its face," Vida replies, contemplating making a grab for the basket. Vespers is white in the face, flung backwards into the underbrush, but she manages a watery mhm of assent.

"Good," Sym says, still facing the creature, "now. The girls were doing nothing wrong, and you've frightened them quite badly. You, on the other hand, aren't supposed to be here. What were you thinking?"

No response. The creature has retreated into the trees, but Vida can see its eyes, the pupils blown wide. It doesn't move.

"Haven't you done enough?" Sym demands, and Vida's never seen Sym angry before. Frustrated, yes, annoyed, yes, but never angry.

The head tilts sideways, too far and too fast. Vida's stomach roils.

"You made your choice, sugarbug," Sym replies, and he sounds agonised, "these are the consequences. We all have to live with what we've done."

The creature isn't making any sound, but now Vida has a moment to think, it might not be able to speak. She's only heard it echo things said by other people, and she's pretty sure Gardeners don't need to communicate verbally.

Looking at the damn thing makes her break out in a fear sweat, gut roiling, alarm bells clanging at the back of her mind that something is wrong. But Sym doesn't seem afraid, so Vida makes herself stand up. If nothing else, she doesn't want this…Gardener to get the satisfaction of watching her cower on the ground.

"You need to go," Sym tells the thing in the trees, "Sol's daughters are none of your concern."

At daughters, Vida sees it look at her again. There's a pause, then it opens that strange blank maw again, and out comes a voice that sounds like Vida's but isn't — lighter, more masculine, "As far as I could get, I went as far as I could get—"

"That's Ren singing," Vespers says abruptly — she's still sitting on the ground, behind Sym and Vida. Her voice quavers, but her expression is resolute, eyes fixed on the interloper.

Sym turns around to look at them both for the first time. "It is," he sighs, "I suppose that's what did it."

"You need to go," he repeats, without looking at the thing in the trees, "I don't know what possessed you. You're not meant to be anywhere near here, which is what you wanted. Wasn't it?"

Vida watches it stare at Sym for a long moment, then it's just gone. She blinks, and the trees on the other side of the track are empty. Sym's shoulders drop, and he sighs.

"Did you know that…?" Vespers trails off. She's bathed in sweat, skin ashen, voice shaky.

Sym steps over to her, offering her a hand. "It is an old friend," he says, "of sorts."

Vespers accepts the offered hand, and Sym lifts her to her feet. "What did…what did it want?"

"It wasn't willing to admit to anything," Sym frowns, "but I don't think it intended you any harm, or frightened you intentionally. But it's not good that it came here."

Vespers sniffs, wiping her eyes. "Okay," she says, then: "this sucks shit, we said all this stuff about it being fine and then something does happen."

"Under any normal conditions you would have been fine," Sym replies, surprising them both, "and there's nothing either of you did wrong."

"'kay," Vespers mumbles, "I…I'm thirsty. And I hurt."

Sym looks her over, resting the back of his hand on her brow. "Have a little to drink, sugarbug," he says bracingly, "and we'll get you back to the vehicle and home. Cosy and Vanilla were telling me you're all going to play boardgames at the cafe tonight together, that sounds like a lovely party?"

Vespers nods wetly, accepting a miraculously un-dented canteen from Vida. "We're gonna play Root," she says, "I…I don't know if I'll be up to it?"

"Maybe if the bar is a bit loud, you can have them over to the house," Sym nods, "see how you feel once you've had some food and a little rest. That must have been very frightening for you both."

Vida thinks back to the camera flash, illuminating the strange spindly figure in the trees, the scouring away of the fog over her mind and the terror and fury that followed. "Yeah," she says, "are you sure it wouldn't have hurt either of us?"

Sym pauses. "I don't think it intended to," he admits, "it might have by accident. There are things about humanity that are hard to understand if you've never experienced them yourself."

Vespers uses some of the water to scrub her face, then shakes herself. "You asked it if it hadn't done enough," she says, "what…what did that mean?"

For a moment, Vida wonders if Sym won't answer. He has that look adults get when Vida asks an uncomfortable question, like why did Aunty Mor and Vace break up or why does my medical file say I have a family history of postpartum psychosis or who was Arabesque?

"You know when I met your Ren," Sym says after a long pause, "my people were trying to exterminate humanity?"

Vida has heard this story before. Their Ren is the Hero of Vertumna, the person who made contact with the Gardeners and convinced them to offer humanity a chance.

But the way Solace tells it, they were scared most of the time. They were a kid, Vida's age or younger, trying to figure out how to save their home.

Sym sets off down the track, Vida and Vespers following after. "Yeah, we know that," Vespers gives a shaky smile, reaching for Vida's hand. Vida takes it, with a friendly squeeze.

"That means I am complicit in many bad things that happened to the humans here," Sym adds, swinging his arms, "I am complicit in the death of every person who died as a result of our attempts to eradicate humanity. Your grandfather, your Uncle Kombucha…I thought I understood this, when I began to live among humans."

Vida makes an affirmative noise, slowing down so Vespers can keep up with her. Vespers isn't short, but Vida is six-foot-one with a long stride, and Vespers isn't quite steady on her feet.

"But you didn't?" Vespers asks, tilting her head. She seems to be calming down, but the adrenaline crash is hitting her, and she looks exhausted.

Sym hums. "No," he says, "I am still learning about many things. But for someone who lives as we Gardeners do, the idea of an individual being irretrievably gone is not one that comes naturally to us. I still don't fully understand…I think I won't until someone close to me dies. I will, perhaps, be the first of my kind to experience that grief."

"Pardon me if I hope it's a while before you get to," Vida smiles, thinking of her grandparents.

Sym looks over his shoulder at her, smiling. "I hope so also," he says, "I understand that under ideal conditions, a human being can live to be over a hundred. I am crossing my fingers, that I have as much time with our family as possible."

Vespers chews her lower lip. "But…what's that got to do with…that person. It? Is it right?"

"It is correct, and he," Sym replies, "and it made decisions that have to be lived with. You do terrible things in war, and then…the war is over. But you can't undo what you've done. I must live with the knowledge of the harm I caused or was complicit in. He made decisions that he must live with the consequences thereof, too."

"So when you asked…hadn't he done enough…?" Vida asks, cautiously picking her way down the track.

Sym nods soberly, dropping back to walk next to her and Vespers as the trail widens enough to accommodate all three. "There are good reasons for it not to come here," he sighs, "and…for that matter, I don't think we should tell your Ren he came here."

Vida bites her lip. She doesn't tell her Ren everything everything, of course, but if anything happens she knows she can talk to them. Or her Dad or Sym, but Cal gets pretty awkward about some stuff and Sym has never been a teenager, so she talks to her Ren most of all.

Vespers says what she's thinking: "…why not?"

"Because it will hurt them," Sym says sadly, "with no real chance of closure. I would, if I could, spare them the actions of someone who did not realise how badly it would wound them."

Vida and Vespertine exchange discomfited looks. "Actually, if you ever see it again," Sym adds, "do tell them. Once is a lapse of judgement, twice is intent. Hopefully he thinks better of it now."

Vida frowns. "That seems reasonable," she says, "I don't like deliberately keeping secrets from them, or Dad, but if you think it's best…"

"I do," Sym replies, "but I will be the first to admit, I have been wrong before. Ah, here we are — Viridescent, would you like me to drive?"

On the one hand, a break would be good. On the other, she does find driving the Expeditions vehicles relaxing. "I'll drive," Vida says, "but I need you to ferry me some of those rice paper rolls while I do."

"Oh," Vespers says, "yeah, I…I'm hungry again."

"We'll get you something to eat," Sym reassures her, as the trees thin and the vehicle comes into view, "did you at least have a good rest of your day?"

Vespers brightens a little. "Actually," she smiles, "yeah. Quill and Indy and Pa packed so much food, and Uncle Rus and Cosy made me cake and soysweets, and we had a really nice morning. I was just really scared for like…that last hour."

"So, on balance, still a good birthday?" Vida asks, climbing into the drivers seat. Even if they'd never been in any danger, she'd forgive her sister if she wanted to crawl under her blankets and hide for the rest of the day.

Vespers nods tiredly, climbing into the back and fumbling with the basket. "Scariest thing that's ever happened to me," she says, "but…yeah, still good."

"Brave girl," Sym says, retrieving a container, "you shouldn't need to be so tough, but I'm glad you are. Here, do you need me to hold it steady?"

By the time they reach the colony, the colour is back in Vespertine's cheeks, and she's telling Sym excitedly about the dillypillar sighting. Vida parks the vehicle and hands the keys back to Miles, who has replaced Utopia at the Depot.

"Lovely weather for it," Miles remarks, putting the keys back in a lockbox, "I understand you and Cosy have plans for the evening, Vespers?"

Vespers nods, her arms full of equipment to return — a first aid kit and the flares, a compass, waterproof day packs, a large expeditions-issue canteen for Vida to check back in. Miles received it all without comment, silver head bent over the log book, until he reaches the uncapped flare. Shit.

Silently, Miles looks up at her, the flare in his hand and one eyebrow raised. Vida shrinks a little, despite herself — Miles ducks eye contact most of the time, and she wonders sometimes if it's because he doesn't like it or because other people find meeting his unwavering silvery-violet stare too much to handle.

"I thought there was something big in the trees," she lies, "but it was just Sym."

"Frightened the girls half to death," Sym says smoothly, "I always forget how sharp our Vida is."

Miles' expression gives nothing away. She has no idea if he believes her. "Perhaps you are losing your touch in your old age, Symbiosis," he replies eventually, "you used to be able to evade experienced Surveyors very easily."

"I underestimated my daughters," Sym grins, "it will undoubtedly happen again."

"Isn't that the way," Miles sighs, scratching his beard, "well, be off with you. I'll look forward to the photographs."

Vespers nods brightly, raking her sweaty hair off her face. "I'll send you the best ones," she says, "Vida, I'm dying for a shower. Come help me pick out something to wear?"

"Sure," Vida smiles, grateful that Vespers seems to have bounced back. She goes to follow, but a long fingered hand arrests her motion.

She turns around to look at Sym, who has a complicated expression on his face. "Thank you," he says, "for making sure Vespers had a nice birthday. I know you worked very hard on today's excursion, and I'm sure she appreciates everything you've done for her. I'm very proud of you."

Vida blinks, vision blurring. "Thanks," she says lamely, sniffling.

Sym lifts a hand to wipe under her eyes, and she feels that weird pheromone thing he does. It reminds her of…of the thing in the trees, of the strange deadened calm…and…

"Stop," Vida says quietly, "I don't want you to do that to me. Not now. Maybe not ever."

There's a flicker of hurt in Sym's eyes, then realisation. The feeling recedes, and he pats her cheek. "Thank you for telling me, sugarbug," he murmurs, "let me know if there's anything you need."

"Come on, Vida!"

"I should go," Vida mumbles, and Sym smiles gently and then vanishes between blinks.

They let themselves into Vespers' tiny apartment — Vespers, like a lot of the colony's teenagers, lives in the "baby block", a small apartment block spitting distance from the Quarters. It's a taste of independence, but one with help close at hand. Their parents are no more than ten minutes away, and Vida herself is even less than that.

Alacrity will be a baby block kid soon, which is a weird thought. He's fourteen, and when Quasar moves into proper adult quarters Alacrity will be taking his room. Vida moved out in the previous year, and Indy's half-sister Asterid had taken her old room in turn.

Vespers heads immediately for the shower. Vida busies herself with Vespers' wardrobe — Vida is the girly sister, but Vespers has some cool clothes that fit her style and that she doesn't wear enough. She's putting a few options on the bed when Vespers emerges, wearing a dressing grown, blue-and-gold hair sticking up in all directions.

"I think this is cute," Vida brandishes an assymetrical yellow top at her, the front two panels that cross one over the other. The top layer is light-blue netting, complementing the golden-yellow fabric underneath. "With your green pants?"

Vespers looks at the pile of clothes, frowning. "I got taller and the top's a bit too short at the front…"

"It fits everywhere else, right? Just wear something underneath…" Vida rummages through Vespers drawers, pulling out a white tank top with a high neck, "like this? And your green and white slip ons?"

Vespers is already picking clean underwear out of a drawer. "That sounds comfortable," she says, "and like it'll look pretty nice?"

"Maybe there'll be someone cute there," Vida wiggles her eyebrows, "you gotta look your best. Get dressed and I'll fix your hair."

Vida's supposed to be the girly one, but Vespers owns so much more hair product. Vida retrieves something called "medium hold styling clay" (clay? what?) and when she comes back, Vespers is wearing the tank top and trousers, and looking at her holopalm.

"Got a message?" Vida asks, putting the container of hair clay down on Vespertine's desk.

Vespers chews her bottom lip. "No, I was just…looking at the photos. You look cool, and I got some great reference photos, but…"

Vida sits down next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. On Vespers holopalm is the last photo — the Gardener standing in the trees, one too-long hand extended towards Vespers, caught in the moment of the flash going off.

"I'd almost convinced myself it didn't happen," Vespers whispers, "it doesn't look real. Like someone was trying to make a human and didn't know what they were doing."

The two of them stare at the photograph for a long time. "Do you want to delete it?" Vida asks.

"Yeah," Vespers replies after a moment, and then the photograph is gone.

Vespers submits to Vida finger-combing product into her hair, tousling it with her fingertips until it's just a little messy, then puts the rest of her clothes on. "You look cute," Vida says, "go have a nice evening with your friends."

"Bossy," Vespers complains, but she hugs Vida anyway.

Her sister heads towards the bar, where Vida can already see a familiar figure. Cosy, wearing a drapey off-the-shoulder t-shirt dress and chunky knee boots, her multitude of piercings glinting in the afternoon sunlight and her curtain of wine-red braids worn loose. She hears Vespers call out "Cosy, you're early!" and sees Cosy shrug ruefully, standing up from her seat to pull Vespers into a hug.

Well. Ves doesn't need her hanging around. Vida heads back to her rooms to shower and wash her sweaty hair, changing into loose pants and a crop-top and grabbing a shawl before climbing up the stairs to the roof.

The block she lives in, much to her delight, has a rooftop terrace. It's a little windy, and sometimes cold, but it has a beautiful view out beyond the colony. If she leans on the railing, she can just see the outline of the wormhole. It draws the eye, even in the faintest possible outline.

On the other side of the wormhole is a planet Vida has never seen, but whose shadow stretches long over her life. The Vertumna Group sought to start over, but they still carried attitudes and assumptions from Earth. It's not that easy, she thinks, to outrun what you came from.

Even here, the shadow of the war that precedes her is visible to her, leaning on the railing. Sections of the wall have been repurposed into new residential blocks, and if she looks over at the Quarters she can still see the scars from repairs that happened before she was born.

Some of the people, too — Anemone with her scales, ex-soldiers with missing limbs, even Cosy's father deafened in one ear by a scream of machinery when the Heliopause fell from the sky. Her home is haunted, and today she found an unfamiliar ghost among the ones she is accustomed to.

There's the sound of a door opening and closing behind her. Vida doesn't turn around — she's not the only person who likes it up here, after all — until the newcomer steps up next to her. Theorem leans on the railing silently, the wind tousling her light-green-and-black hair.

"That's a thoughtful face," Theorem says lightly, "kudos for your thoughts?"

Vida's mouth quirks up in a smile. "My thoughts are a luxury few can afford," she replies.

Theorem smiles back. "You know I'm good for it?" she mimes transferring kudos, the gesture exaggerated like she's transferring a substantial quantity.

"Dork," Vida laughs, "I was just…in my head a bit. It's going to sound really dumb if I say it aloud."

"Yeah? Just say it, then, get it out of the way."

Vida leans her chin in her hand, looking out at the colony. "I was thinking that…like, the Vertumna Group wanted to outrun Earth, Earth culture, Earth history and all of our differences. But how long is it going to be, before we actually do that?"

Theorem doesn't respond immediately, but when Vida glanced across at her she has a contemplative look of her own. "Maybe when Earth is no longer in living memory," she says, "or the ships…or maybe later, when the founding of the colony's out of living memory and we've properly built something new."

She can always trust Theorem to give this kind of thing serious thought. "I don't think we can," Vida says, "I don't think we can ever run away from where we came from. I can't ignore the fact that the last counsellor we had died by suicide, or that my Ren's the Hero of Vertumna, or that two generations of my family were child soldiers."

Those huge, blank eyes, pupils pinpricks. The sorrow in Sym's face when he had said telling her Ren would only hurt them, and the anger in his voice when he had demanded haven't you done enough?

"That's unusually defeatist," Theorem observes, gently knocking her shoulder into Vida's, "so unlike you."

Vida smiles thinly. "We stop running to escape," she replies, "and start running towards. We pick who we want to be, instead of what we don't."

"There she is," Theorem murmurs, "you know I love you, right?"

Of course. She's known Theorem loves her for a long time, before she knew Theorem was in love with her. It's soothing to think she might still love her, even if their romance doesn't survive. "I do know," Vida smiles, "but enough of that."

"You want company?" Theorem asks.

Vida's selfish, and she wants everything. She wants to keep Theorem and Quill. She wants to go home and crawl into her Ren's arms and tell them everything, so they'll make that fucking thing go away and never come back. She wants to be able to feel that strange wash of calm Sym can do without suddenly feeling nauseous and afraid.

She looks out towards the bar. Tiny, she can just make out Vespers' blue and yellow hair, sitting at a table and laughing. And beyond, out in the wild places that feel a little more dangerous than they used to.

"I'd like company," she says, "maybe you could play some more of that game you were showing me?"

Theorem nods, offering Vida her arm. Vida takes it, briefly admiring the way Theorem's shirt clings to her bicep. Theorem is smaller than her, but dense, solid with muscle built over years of working as a courier and logistician. She can carry Vida like a princess, which is nice sometimes — Vida is plenty tough, but it's nice to know she can be taken care of if she needs it.

Like now, honestly. The two of them curl up in Vida's bed, Vida's arms curled around Theorem's waist, legs bracketing Theorem's hips as she uses Vida's shoulder as a headrest. She's playing a puzzle game, their hearspeaks linked so Vida can listen to the soundtrack. Theorem's weight against her body is grounding, warm and muscular and real.

Eventually, she's going to have to go out there again. She won't, can't let the wilderness be taken from her. It's hers — well, not quite. It doesn't belong to her, she belongs to it. She comes back to this place and to the people she loves, but Vertumna is in her, in the oxygen of her blood.

—

Viridescent walks out into the wilderness again and again, under the wormhole's watchful eye. She goes home to hearth and family, but sooner or later Vertumna calls her back.

She pads through trees, floats in lakes and once or twice in the sea like she's in the womb once more, kneels in the dirt to harvest edible plants and sweet-smelling bark with a whispered thank you.

She listens for the silence, the absence of animal noise, but it never comes again. Perhaps he knows better than to come back.

Vida sings all the same, and listens for the echo.

—

past the signs and the sirens
the sinners and the saints
i went as far as I could get
past the hallowed and the horror
the humbled and the greed
i went as far as I could get
cause if I am unloved, I have unloved too

as far as I could get
as far as I could get
as far as I could get
and I'm not far enough yet

— florence and the machine, "as far as i could get"