‘It’s not on the map,’ said Borodin.
‘Dunes change all the time. This is a ground assessment.’ Yves had the PADD tilted against the glare as he drove the buggy across the slopes of the dunes, the wheels finding the firm surface between crests.
The sands of Colludia IV’s second moon stretched ahead of them, vast and red. They’d cleared the spaceport twenty minutes ago, and the landscape had wasted no time proving they’d left civilisation behind – enormous, open, indifferent. Colludia IV itself hung in the sky, like it was watching over them.
Wherever the officers of the flotilla were, the planet would see.
Yves patted his shoulder like she wanted him to slow down. ‘Look at the terrain between here and that ridge. Flat. Firm. Cuts forty minutes off the track.’
He pumped the brakes only softly, not wanting to lose ground in either a literal or debating sense. ‘Or it’s soft and we lose the buggy to a sand trap. We got this route from the spaceport -’
‘It’s not soft. See the darker band?’ She angled the PADD at him without looking up. ‘Compacted substrate. It’ll hold.’
‘What makes you -’
‘I’m a geologist, Teo! I’ve surveyed eleven planetary bodies in eighteen months! I know what sand looks like!’
But she was laughing, and he had to slow the buggy because to do anything else would feel like he was forcing the point without a discussion.
She looked at him over the top of her sunglasses, leaning back in the passenger’s seat, hair wild from the drive, relaxed as if this were a country jaunt and not a competition. ‘Trust me?’
Borodin worked his jaw for a beat. Looked at the darker ground. Looked at the track.
They were not the only team to eschew the hover-barge and grab personal vehicles. Daragon and Xhakaza were ahead and had already committed, their buggy following the same route they’d been given when asking around the spaceport settlement.
Neither of them were experts on planetary sciences.
‘If we sink -’
‘You’ll be furious.’ Her grin was impish and self-satisfied. ‘So whatever way, it’ll be funny.’
‘Is it funny to fall out of the race on the first challenge?’
‘It’s a damning indictment of our partnership,’ Yves mused. ‘But so’s not trusting me?’
He turned the buggy off the track.
The ground held. Firm under the wheels, exactly as she’d said, and not only was it a more direct heading, but he could kick up the speed for them to rocket across an open plain of sand.
Air whipped sharper around them, and she had to raise her voice for the wind to not snatch it when she called, ‘You’ve still not told me!’
‘Told you what?’
‘About the Hotspur!’
He gave her a sidelong glance. ‘Of course I mentioned a new ship.’
‘Yes, but not about her.’
His brow furrowed as he studied the ridge-line ahead, the instruments on the buggy they’d hired out of the spaceport, double-checked the ground before them. ‘She’s an Inquiry class. Commissioned 2395, part of the second construction block. State-of-the-art medical facilities – hey!’
She had let her head loll back to mock-snore, then mimicked snapping awake. ‘Teo, I could have read all of that.’
‘By their very nature, the Inquiry is a mass-produced ship; they’re commonplace. There’s little specific to report.’
He’d expected another protest. Not for her to cock her head as she studied him, elbow propped against the buggy door, eyes veiled behind sunglasses. ‘Aren’t you proud?’
‘Of course I am. She’s a fine ship, and it’s an honour to be her captain.’ But he felt her eyes on him and hesitated. ‘Her assignment to the squadron feels simply like a reflection of the unit’s needs. Of the squadron consolidating as a dedicated expeditionary force, where it makes more sense for us to have fewer, more effective, and versatile ships. From the Scylla, I was largely limited to patrol and interdiction duties. The Hotspur has a more varied profile.’
‘Sure. Rourke wanted a bigger ship in his unit. But he could have shuffled you and the Scylla on. Sent you to Jericho’s squadron. Got the Hotspur in with Vornar or Adenor or a new captain. Instead, he secured you a new ship. You’re an asset, too, right?’
‘I don’t doubt that,’ he said quickly.
‘Oh, I know. You? Doubt duty? Doubt thou the stars are fire, first.’ Levity in her voice faltered, and he wondered if she, too, was recalling the play’s subsequent lines.
He cleared his throat. ‘What if, instead, I show you her when this is over? Before we leave Colludia? If we have time.’
She was silent for a beat, and he found himself enjoying it; not for the break in conversation, but the reminder that they could say nothing and still be communicating, still be content in each other’s company. ‘If we have time.’
‘And,’ said Borodin, frowning as the ridge line approached. ‘You can show me the Icarus. I’ve never been aboard a Shenzhou.’
‘I can show you her facilities so you can compare them with the Hotspur’s,’ came the wry reply.
‘I mean…’ He sucked his teeth. ‘It’s an impressive achievement. A ship like that. I always thought you were better than the Bohr.’
‘That was my ship!’
‘I mean – she was an ageing Nova-class! And you were better than the interior survey work she limited you to. Now you’re off on charting projects with the Republic, and…’ His voice trailed off. ‘You’re teasing me.’
‘It’s so easy.’
He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. ‘Yes. Well. Of course I hold you in high regard professionally. I listened to your judgement about the sand, no?’
‘Eventually.’
They reached the top of the ridge, and all bickering died.
The desert fell away below them in a long red sweep, ridge after ridge fading into haze, and at the bottom of the valley, the settlement they’d been told they could make by nightfall sat in a natural bowl of rock, low buildings in the same red clay. Beyond it, the desert simply ran on until it met the sky.
Borodin stopped the buggy. The heat was considerable, even through the thin atmosphere, and once he’d been distracted from talking he’d realised he was sore and thirsty. He reached for his canteen.
Yves took it from his hand, drank, and handed it back. ‘Mine’s in the bag,’ she said without apology at his look.
‘I noticed when we set off.’
‘Then you understand the situation.’ She pushed her sunglasses up. ‘I think we can push on.’
‘We don’t want to stop here tonight? The man at the hire venue said -’
‘We didn’t carve a shortcut to beat Daragon and Xhakaza – and anyone else – just to burn the lead for the sake of our pick of rooms for the night.’
He sipped water again. ‘We have sleeping gear. We can press on until dark and find a sheltered spot.’
‘Exactly. Sleep under the desert sky? Romantic. Except for the sand. And bugs. And sand.’
‘I was thinking it sounds efficient.’
‘Be still, my beating heart…’
But he smiled as he kicked the buggy back into life and brought them on a gentle, looping descent towards the settlement – and beyond, onward through the rolling sands of the moon of Colludia IV.
Somewhere out there was the Shrine of the Fallen Star, their checkpoint destination, a remote spiritual retreat. But that was days away, and for now, all he had to think of was the desert drive, Juliette Yves, and the prospect of a night under the stars.
