Chapter Text
You wake up.
You don't think you were supposed to.
Heart pounding against your rib cage, you blink away the remnants of a sleep you can't remember. The stars lose their blurred edges. Giant's Deep glows a deep red as it crests and begins to inch out of sight. It's the beginning of the loop, and yet, the cannon is still intact. There is no purple light tracing its unpredictable path across the vast, vanishing night sky.
You've seen this a million times before.
After all this time, not seeing it is what baffles you.
You push yourself up. Across the camp, bent over their knees and poking at the fire, is Slate. They look up at you, and you try to seem a little more normal, but it’s been quite a few years since the last time you cared what people thought of you. If Slate thinks your staring is weird, you don’t know what they’d think if they ever hopped in your ship and learned a little something about the universe.
You stand. Slate turns back to the fire. They never address you first, not even on those days you think your mood is clear enough that it warrants a quick, ‘You alright over there?’
Waiting. That’s all you’re good for, and you finally thought you ended it, and yet here you are. Still kicking away, and for what?
There are three or four sentences you have on replay every time you speak to Slate. You step forward, consider pulling out a stick and a marshmallow, then say, “You know the ship is a death-trap, right?”
Slate looks at you, and without hesitation says, “Well yeah, it’s a death-trap, but a really powerful death-trap. What, you suddenly care about safety now?”
You smile and shake your head, because no, you can’t bring yourself to care about safety, especially when you’re supposed to be dead. Your eyes travel until they rest on Giant’s Deep. You wonder if Gabbro is having as many thoughts about this as you are. You consider going there, but something else itches at the back of your mind.
Feldspar. You found them still sitting in Dark Bramble, alone. They have no idea that you chose to kill them and everyone else. You look up at the Orbital Probe Cannon and ponder the meaning behind its failure to fire. Somehow, in the process of collapsing the possibilities, you managed to avoid destroying the universe. But how? Why are you here?
You don’t know if this is real. If not, this is a remarkably detailed hallucination.
Deciding to ask Gabbro if they’re as confused as you are, you head to the elevator and punch in the launch codes. You’re pretty sure Slate calls and asks where you got them, but you don’t respond. You hop into your ship, buckle up, and take off along one of your favorite routes.
Halfway to Giant’s Deep, you pause. You feel a pull, a sense that you’re going the wrong way. You turn your ship as the fully intact probe cannon circles around, and you lock your sights on Dark Bramble.
You don’t know what’s happening, but Feldspar and Dark Bramble occupy every neural pathway in your mind until you have no choice but to turn back. You'll have to leave Gabbro for later.
You hate every second of it. You're not yet adapted to the adrenaline rush that comes from flying directly into the heart of Dark Bramble. You turn on your signalscope to locate Feldspar’s harmonica, and you fly toward it with determination and a healthy dose of anxiety.
One node down. There are three signals for you to choose from, and as in all the previous loops, you choose the signal on the far left. Sometimes it’s correct; sometimes it isn’t. You have a good feeling that this is the right one.
It turns out it wasn’t, but you don’t let that dampen your mood. The last thing you need is unsteady hands. One wrong move could be the difference between seeing Feldspar and seeing the inside of an angler fish's digestive tract, and you can't afford to waste time. You navigate to the middle node and jump through.
You find the husked out angler fish with no further setbacks. It’s been a long time. Although you don’t like it, you know this journey like the back of your hand. (Admittedly, you haven't seen much of your own skin since this journey began.) Landing the ship still takes a bit of finesse, but soon enough you hop out and head into Feldspar’s little camp.
The fog must have concealed you at first, because Feldspar doesn't notice you until you step up and begin packing away their sleeping bag. They sit there, baffled, watching as you hook their sleeping bag over your shoulder and gather up all the remaining cans of food you can find. You wince as you realize none of these creatures are salt fish, and that some of them are still moving…
“Uh,” Feldspar finally says, but you ignore their confusion and focus on taking everything back to your ship. You use the Nomai elevator to settle the supplies and return to grab more.
As you gather their emergency tree seeds and an unlabeled box, you decide to speak, as though you’ve spoken to each other a million times before and not just once. “We’re heading home. Hurry—we don't have much time to waste.”
“Who are you, anyway?” Feldspar appears next to you, and you hold still as they peer curiously into your faceplate. A moment passes as their expression shifts from confusion to realization. “Rheniite? Did they finally make an astronaut out of my lil’ rock?”
You've heard that line a million times and don't care to hear it again, so you shove the box into Feldspar's hands, your lip curling as they stumble. “Gossan misses you. Hurry before they come to get you themself.”
The idea of Gossan coming into this wretched place is enough to get Feldspar moving. They don't question you and gather everything, moving swiftly and quietly, as though they sense they’re running out of time without fully understanding why. They hesitate over the moving things in the can before putting out their fire and walking away. You're relieved you won't have to deal with whatever those things are crawling around in your ship.
It's been eight years since Feldspar has seen or spoken to another living person, and they’re handling it surprisingly well. You expected some resistance or disbelief, but Feldspar had always said they enjoyed the quiet and would wait for you to return home to send someone else.
Looking back, it's silly. Why make the trip home to tell Hornfels when you could have picked them up yourself?
As you let the last of their camp supplies float up into your ship, you acknowledge the futility of it all—Feldspar will just end up right back where they started. You wonder why you bothered packing up their things in the first place.
Maybe it’s to make you feel better, or to make Feldspar feel better. Taking all this stuff with you gives the illusion of permanence.
You settle down in the pilot’s seat while Feldspar settles near your ship logs. You take off, heading away from any potential exit, and hover close to Feldspar’s sparking ship. The damage is extensive, but it's nothing Slate and Esker haven’t handled before.
You grab a rope and tethers. Feldspar watches you out of the viewport of your ship as you tie the rope first to your ship and then to Feldspar’s. The rope should hold. This was part of your training, after all. It's not uncommon for ships to get lost or stranded due to the astronauts' tendency to forget refueling schedules and routine maintenance.
You return to the pilot’s seat and take care to avoid slamming Feldspar’s ship into any of the brambles. You watch for sleeping anglerfish at every turn. You want to avoid repeating this journey if you can.
Finally, you see the night sky.
Feldspar sucks in a breath and holds it. They stumble to their feet and lean forward to take it all in. You watch them. A tear slips from Feldspar’s eye, and you swallow hard, turning away.
You make it back in one piece. Before you even touch down, Slate is already waiting on the landing pad. Their windblown clothes flap as they rush forward. You motion for Feldspar to go ahead, and they look at you, lost in a daze.
Go on, Slate’s excited to see you,” you say, and Feldspar chuckles mirthlessly as they hop out of the hatch. You wait for Slate’s reaction. They let out a confused, guttural sound, and then it becomes a litany of, “Oh, my stars. Oh, my stars.”
You watch from your position over the hatch as Slate grabs Feldspar and pulls them in, holding them and gently rocking them from side to side. You smile and then turn your gaze to the sun.
The sun is still yellow, unchanged even after you spent the better part of your twenty-two minutes inside Dark Bramble.
You swallow a flicker of panicked excitement.
Slate runs off with Feldspar without so much as a glance back at you. It makes sense—you never really left. A quick trip to Dark Bramble doesn't warrant the same kind of welcome for you as it does for them.
While the village gathers to see the face they thought long dead, you unhook Feldspar's ship from yours and take off toward Giant’s Deep.