.:.:: FEY AYAN ::.:.

  The headache greeted Ayan before she even opened her eyes. It sat like a patient predator above her temples, waiting for any sudden movement to pounce with full force. She kept very still, taking inventory of her body as memories started emerging from the fog.

  The horizon rising. The strataglider crashing. Marlo and the Hub. The fall. The strange man.

  Matt. That was his name.

  She eased her eyes open. The tent’s interior was mercifully dim, its thin walls filtering the bright daylight to a soft, cool glow. She was lying on something considerably more comfortable than the hard ground she remembered passing out on. Her pack rested beside her. It looked undisturbed.

  “Good, you’re awake.” Matt sat cross-legged in the tent’s entrance. “How’s the head?”

  “Still attached.” The words rasped from her dry throat, drawing a wince.

  Matt pressed a cup into her hand. “Here, have some of this.”

  “What…?”

  “Just water with an analgesic.” He gently touched along the edges of the laceration on her temple. “Nothing too strong, but it should help.”

  She drank, noting a faint aftertaste. The pounding in her head receded almost immediately to a dull throb.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” He studied her with a frown. “You had me worried. Head injuries can be tricky. I thought I’d better let you sleep…”

  “What time is it? How long was I out?”

  “About nine hours. It’s just past midday.”

  “Nine hours?” Ayan sat up carefully. Dizziness swirled briefly but settled as she took the time to focus on her breathing. “I need to get back to the Hub. My staff—”

  “Are doing what they’re trained to do.” Matt’s hand settled on her shoulder. “Don’t rush it. The meds work quickly, but they aren’t miraculous.”

  Ayan shifted to her knees, testing her balance, then got to her feet. The tent swayed alarmingly, but she steadied herself against Matt.

  “Did you manage to get in contact with anyone?” she asked.

  Matt shook his head. “I don’t have comm equipment on me. Us unauthorized visitors prefer to stay undetectable.”

  “Right.” Ayan rubbed her forehead. “Remind me again why anyone would sneak onto Kabus for fun?”

  “Because admission is limited to MDI personnel and credentialed researchers.” He smiled, a brief flash of teeth. “And because places that don’t want you there are usually the most interesting.”

  “You risk MDI’s neural tagging for interesting?”

  “I routinely risk death for experience.” Matt shrugged. “Every corporate moon has its pristine visitor center, its carefully selected viewpoints. I prefer the real thing.”

  “Well, the real thing nearly killed us both last night,” she said, then moved toward the tent opening and stepped outside into the light. Outside, the transformed landscape of Kabus stretched before her, a chaotic sculpture garden of folded and twisted structures.

  “How are you feeling on your feet?” Matt asked, following her out.

  “Stable enough,” she said. “We should start moving toward the Hub.”

  “Yeah, about that….” He shook his head. “While you were sleeping, I did some scouting. The tidal event did extensive damage, and there’s now a massive chasm between us and the Hub. It’s at least half a kilometer wide in places, and what little of its floor I saw did not look friendly. We’ll need to circle around to reach the Hub, which is going to take at least a day, assuming you’re even up for walking.”

  Ayan nodded. “Then we should get started right now.”

  “Yes…” Matt glanced at the sky. “Actually, I think we should wait until tomorrow morning.”

  “Why?”

  “You had a serious injury less than twelve hours ago. Another day of rest would be wise.”

  She considered arguing, then thought better of it. Her legs still felt unsteady, and the headache still hovered in the background, threatened to return if she moved too quickly. “Fine. One more day,” she conceded, then added, “But I need to contact the Hub. Can we go back and look for my comm-unit? I was holding it when I fell, so it can’t be far.”

  “I already thought about that and spent a good hour scouring the area. As far as I can tell, it must have slipped through a crevice. It’s probably beeping its little circuits out down in that ocean below. All I’ve got is a pick-up beacon, and that’s it.” He gestured vaguely at his tent. “Don’t worry, I’m sure your people are more than resourceful enough. They’ll manage without you for one more day.”

  A memory surfaced of the time Marlo had accidentally broadcast personal journal entries to the entire Hub’s PA system instead of adjusting the contrast on his screen. Ninety excruciating seconds of poetic musings that, thankfully, no one had understood.

  But, on the other hand, he’d handled the filtration crisis last quarter with surprising competence, coordinating teams and making sensible decisions while she was trapped in MDI meetings. Sometimes people rose to challenges when not overshadowed by authority.

  “Yeah, I suppose,” she sighed, rubbing her temples. “They’ll manage. But I need to do something productive here. I can’t just sit around while my people are dealing with the aftermath.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “I agree completely.” Matt grinned. “We both could use a meal. I’ve got ample rations. And you could tell me how someone ends up running a place like this. Hub Chief of a Mosogon moon is not exactly an entry-level position.”

  “What makes you think I’d want to share my resume with a self-confessed trespasser?”

  “Fair point.” Matt reached into the tent and pulled out a small cooking unit. “How about I go first? Third-generation translight family, with two years at the Alcubierre-Avoi Institute before dropping out. Found traditional paths boring, started exploring instead. Been to twelve worlds in seven systems. Prefer the wilder ones.”

  “Sounds like a waste of a fine education to me.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe there’s more education out here than in any classroom.” He activated the unit, which began to hum softly. “Your turn.”

  “Security background with engineering on the side. Ended up in crisis management. This position was vacant, and I applied. Kabus has a lot of crises.” She watched him prepare the food. “Had you visited other parts of the moon before the tide hit?”

  “Some,” he said, not looking up. “The lower reaches near the equator are fascinating. Did you know there are regions where the biomass is so thin you can poke through and see the ocean below even without a tide?”

  “I did, actually. I am, after all, in charge of things here. It seems you’ve been busy for someone who’s only been here two weeks.”

  Matt shrugged. “I move fast.”

  “I’d say so. So what do you do when you’re not trespassing?”

  “This and that. Odd jobs. Transport work sometimes.” He handed her a portion of the food. “But enough about me. What’s in your pack that’s so important? You were pretty concerned about it earlier.”

  Ayan took the plate. “Just things for my hobby. I paint. Kabus has some gorgeous scenery. Huh.” She shook her head. “Or at least, it had. It’s all a bit apocalyptic now.” She took a bite of the food, which was far more delicious than standard wilderness fare. “What about your beacon? You mentioned a pick-up?”

  “Scheduled for tomorrow night,” Matt said. “After sundown. I can’t exactly use the official departure facilities….although now I suppose you’re going to want to process me and all that.”

  “Yep. Don’t worry, you won’t be keel-hauled. But I’m curious. What made you choose Kabus over, say, Libun? It’s got plenty of restricted areas for the adventurous, and the gravity’s lower. Easier exploring.”

  “Kabus has a reputation,” Matt replied. “The living surface, the atmospheric phenomena. And,” he leaned forward slightly, “rumors about things beneath the surface.”

  Ayan’s interest spiked. “What kind of rumors?”

  “Energy readings. Unusual formations. Some say the developers aren’t just here for the views and biology.”

  She took her last bite and set the plate down. “I’ve had just enough of this conspiracy nonsense. MDI is very transparent about its development plans. It’s all available for public review.”

  Matt smiled faintly. “Of course it is.”

  “You sound skeptical.”

  “Let’s just say I’ve seen enough corporate operations to know that what they announce and what they’re doing aren’t always the same thing.”

  “And what exactly do you think…” Ayan’s words died in her throat as her gaze drifted upward, drawn by a flash of light above the horizon. The sky stretched above them, pale and scattered with wispy clouds like torn gauze across Caliban’s Star. At first glance, nothing seemed amiss. Then it happened again.

  A glint.

  “What is it?” Matt asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  Another glint, but not in the same spot. Far further to the left.

  Then another, lower down this time.

  Not one thing. Lots of things. But what? Particles? Litter? Ash?

  “Where are you looking?” Matt said, trying to follow her gaze.

  “There.” She pointed. “Glints.”

  “I still don’t see anything.”

  “They’re right there.” Ayan stood for a better view. “It’s like…they’re descending.”

  Indeed, the whole sky to the north was now fizzing with sparkles.

  “Wait, I see them now,” Matt said, rising to his feet. “What are they?”

  “I’m not sure,” Ayan replied, trying to judge their direction and speed. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Well, things have been pretty disrupted by the tide. Perhaps something, I don’t know, is responding to the change.”

  “Yes. Ootu would be fascinated.”

  “Ootu?”

  “Our field scientist. He’s been studying Kabus for over a decade.”

  “I’m surprised he’s missed something so spectacular.”

  “So am I,” Ayan murmured, watching the glints. She noticed that once they descended too far, they no longer caught the light, becoming practically invisible. Gone before she could properly track them.

  A clump of vegetation ahead of them suddenly dipped, as if someone had dropped an invisible weight on it. A swathe of dying fur-ferns and purple-stemmed weeds…bent.

  For a moment, stillness reigned. Ayan frowned, staring at the clump. Without warning, it erupted with glimmers of its own, dozens of brief, brilliant pinpoints dancing across the entire swathe. It was as if an invisible, sparkling shroud had settled over the vegetation, beautiful yet deeply unsettling.

  “What is going on?” She took a step backward.

  Then came a delicate sigh, and the vegetation crumpled inward as the shroud clouded and shrank.

  “I think it’s feeding,” she said. “We should—”

  “What the—” Matt cried as he frantically brushed at his arms. “There’s something on me. I can feel it!”

  “Don’t move,” Ayan commanded, scanning his body for signs of what had alarmed him.

  “I don’t see anything, but I can feel it.” His voice tightened. “Something...it’s covering my skin.”

  Then she saw the tiny glimmers skittering across his shoulders and chest. His arms suddenly snapped to his sides as if bound. His struggles grew more violent, his face contorting in a silent scream as he fought against the unseen force.

  The membrane clouded over with a filmy haze that rapidly thickened, obscuring his form as his desperate thrashing sent him crashing to the ground.

  Ayan stared for precisely two heartbeats, then lunged for the cooking unit, twisted its regulator to maximum output, and hurled it directly at the shroud. The impact sent a ripple across its milky surface and an edge peeled away, momentarily exposing the back of Matt’s head and neck. She seized his collar with one hand and frantically clawed at the membrane with the other, trying to peel the stubborn membrane from his face. The surface clung like wet plastic, chemicals searing her palm.

  With a high-pitched whine, the cooking unit’s overtaxed regulator failed in a flash of intense heat. The shroud shivered violently and released Matt with a sound like tearing silk before collapsing into a wet, translucent, quivering mass beneath him.

  Matt fell to his knees, gasping and wheezing. Angry red welts covered his face and arms, the skin looking parboiled and tender.

  “Matt?” Ayan knelt beside him. “Are you okay?”

  He sucked in several ragged breaths before responding, his voice raw. “What...what the hell was that thing?”

  “I don’t know.” She helped him to a sitting position, her eyes scanning the skies for any sign of more descending glints. “But we need to treat those burns right away.”

  “What were you thinking?” he snarled suddenly, recoiling from her touch.

  Ayan pulled back, startled. “Excuse me?”

  “The cooker.” His voice was tight with barely contained anger, hands trembling as he gestured at the destroyed device. “That wasn’t just equipment, it was my lifeline out here. Irreplaceable.”

  “I was saving your life!”

  “I had it under control.” He pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly. “I didn’t need your—” He winced, a spasm of pain cutting off his words.

  He staggered into the tent and dropped heavily beside his medkit. She followed him in.

  “I apologize for interfering with your dissolution by a floral alien predator,” she said. “Next time, I’ll just observe the process. For science.”

  Matt’s jaw worked silently while he rifled through the medkit. His fingers fumbled with a tube of salve. Finally, he exhaled, shoulders slumping. “You’re right. I’m sorry. That was...” He shook his head. “Pain talking. Not thinking straight.” He squeezed salve onto his trembling fingers and awkwardly dabbed at the burns on his neck, avoiding her gaze. “Thank you. I mean it.”

  “No problem,” she said, watching him struggle. “Here, let me help with that.”

  He hesitated, then handed her the tube. As she applied the salve to the back of his neck, he said quietly, “That wasn’t pleasant.”

  “Well, our field scientist Ootu always says the first person to survive something gets naming rights. So, what shall we call them?”

  Matt was quiet for a moment, then gave a pained half-smile. “Doomshrouds.”