Somewhere in the Southern Fields Sparks crackled across the deep mauve sky, each mysterious point of light reaching out for contact with another. Always the same patterns, a code waiting to be deciphered. In the shadowy field below, a solitary transport hummed along on its lonely mission to the forgotten mucklands. Descartes was stretched on its back, feeling the rattle in her bones and remembering the old days of sparkonomy, back before night was banished from most of the world. Whatever else came from this mission, it'd been worth it to see that sky again.
Descartes' long, prehensile tail curled and uncurled as she listened to the roar of some wild nightbeast only a mile or so away and the resulting commotion it caused inside.
***
"Keep that damn light off!" Harper ordered. A few of the soldiers growled, revealing their predatory, feline teeth. Their bodies were trained to the peak of muscular perfection and augmented with biometal, yet they cowered around lamps, clutching talismen, frightened of a sunless world they'd never seen. Harper wasn't about to be intimidated by them. He cut the lights himself. "Glowing like a neon sign will only draw attention. If you can't handle it, go back into stasis."
None of them wanted to admit such weakness, or maybe they worried that sleep would leave them more vulnerable. 'Pathetic,' Harper thought, sniffing dismissively. Such a powerful race frozen in fear, enduring chastizement by a rabbitman. It might've been amusing if his career didn't depend on them.
"Spend some time watching the darkness instead of snivelling and sneering," he told them. "It might improve your vision."
He could see a few quivering with indignation. Let them have their rage. It brought out their strength, and that was what he needed. If they didn't shed this phobia, it could jeopardize the entire mission. Dark water, as the name might suggest, could only be found in dark places. Poets said it came from shadow-collapse, when reality became illusion and then nothing but primordial darkness. The introduction of light could remake reality, but it always left a little residue behind, the sweat of goddesses, the amniotic fluid of the universe. That was fine for poets, but scientists... Well, if they had any answers, he wouldn't be out here in this sunforsaken field, searching for an ancient wellspring.
Smoothing his ears back to calm himself, he entered the control room. Only the faint lights of the console illuminated the space, revealing Captain Gurev, who liked to monitor the board even though he had nothing to do with navigation. He was an older soldier, supposedly one of the Lady's early batches, before the labs took over production. Maybe that explained his sense of duty and lack of superstition. Either way, he was one of the few Harper respected.
"Is everything alright?" Gurev asked.
"Hardly, but it's normal, if that's what you mean." He sat down and checked the panels himself, just for something to do. Travel was excessively tedious. "It would help if you kept your people under control. We don't have room for childish night terrors."
"There are beasts in that darkness." He said it only as simple fact. "We should've brought more bodies."
"For a mission to a place we aren't even sure we can find? I should be lucky the Lady gave me this many." He flicked on the map screen and examined their little dot of a vehicle in roughly marked terrain. Numbers glowed in all four corners, updating every few minutes, correcting their course according to magnetic readings and a pre-programmed target. He couldn't interpret any of it, and trusting machines made him nervous. "When was the last time Descartes checked the coordinates?"
"I haven't seen her since sundown."
After a quick search of the interior, Harper knew there was only one place left -- unless the soldiers had eaten her -- and that was the roof. Being navigator, she was up there at some point every night. It was, after all, the only hope anyone had of finding Romulus. Land travel such as this had rarely been done in the pre-Dawn, but air and sea were even more dangerous these days, so here they were, relying on the charts of old sparkgazers and the one laze-about monkey who could decipher their intricate, interweaving designs.
Opening the roof hatch, he called sharply, "Descartes!"
Ever insubordinate, she replied, "Are you requesting me or announcing dinner to the beasts?"
"Have you checked our heading recently?"
"I adjusted our course shortly after sunfall, just like every night."
"And what if an error occurs? What if you misplace a number?"
"If we were that far off, I'd know. Boa the Warrior and Drago the Serpent ride our flanks." She pointed directly up. "And that's Somnio, the Dreamweaver." Her arm shifted to a point ahead. "We need to meet Arbo the Stag."
He peered at the area, waited as the bright lines crinkled and popped across their velvety backdrop, but he could never recognize the same line twice, let alone entire images. "You're certain?"
"The sparks don't lie, Harper. Everything else might, but not the sky."
He grabbed her robe at the shoulder, pulled her easily over the slick surface until he could glare into her eyes. "This is our last chance to win the Lady's grace. If we don't find that city, we may as well march into the sea."
She stared up at him with a frustrating apathy. "I know the constellations to get you there, too."
With a huff, he pushed away from her and descended, muttering, "You had better be right."
***
The door clicked shut, leaving her alone with the cool muckland air. Shifting her eyes, she saw Guatama the Wise, sitting low on the southeastern sky. Somewhere beneath it was the ancestral home of her people. Was anyone still there, biding their scholarly time until another adventurer stumbled upon them? And what of her current destination, Romulus? If the rumours were true, then its inhabitants had been devoured by nightbeasts fleeing the Second Sunrise, but what did rumours mean? No more than myth and hearsay woven in a tapestry of speculation. Anything might be out there.
It must bother Harper, too, though he never spoke of it. He was a man concerned with results, prestige and the power they brought, ready to plow and plunder any enigmatic corner of Ochrasy for his prize. How much the Lady's son.
A shadowy form, wider than the LDV, soared between her and the sky, blacking her vision for several seconds as the smell of dampness, like floating pondwater, wafted through. Something shimmered along the shadow's edges, wings or fins or who-knew-what, and a thread-like tail draped from the rear. It hung as low as the LDV, speeding closer--
It struck, tipping the vehicle precariously. Descartes rolled once and gripped the roof as they rocked back to position. Lights burst from the windows, a foolish move, and tigerfolk snarled their displeasure while Harper's reprimands cut through air and metal alike. The lights went out. The nightbeast was unconcerned, already blending into the distant darkness. They were lucky this time.
Still a little shaken, Descartes briefly thought of going inside, but the rooms were cramped and stank of meat breath. There was nothing to do there but dream of the world. At least here she could see it.
The roof hatch squeaked again, and Descartes lifted enough to meet Harper's gaze. He wrinkled his nose before disappearing, too stubborn to admit that he'd come to check on her. She might not be well liked, but she was indispensable. For the moment.
