《The World Our Feet Must Learn》


 1. Sixflame

    The sentinels had found me again. The giants in the half-light were watching. Always watching, waiting for me to do wrong.


    I tried to focus, blinking away the black spots that danced before me.


    The shadows shifted. No, they couldn¡¯t be sentinels, I had escaped them...


    Cold metal lay in my palm. A weapon?


    No. A kettle.


    I stared at it, my vision clearing. It was an important kettle, but why?


    <i>Starcarver needs his tea</i>, my settling mind offered. <i>Fill the kettle.</i>


    My legs weren''t mine anymore. Someone had replaced my muscles with wet clay, my bones with lead pipes. Each step sent tremors up my weak spine. I was too heavy.


    I staggered forward, desperate to escape the sentinel¡¯s gaze, but I swayed and banged into one of them, my shoulder hitting it hard. I flinched, but the sentinel remained still, indifferent to my transgression.


    Strange. Why so merciful today?


    I kept moving, driven by confusion and lingering fear, heading for a distant pool of light, dragging each step from deep inside until I finally stumbled into the brightness, sending the kettle crashing into another sentinel.


    There was a loud, hollow, echoey clang.


    The sound brought me back to my senses and I touched the thing I had hit. It was a storage unit, not a sentinel. I shook my head. My mind was still emerging from stasis, confusing shadows with threats.


    Laughter rippled from a bright space up ahead. I squinted and saw four figures sitting cross-legged on the floor, sorting through colourful packets.


    "Careful there, Sixflame" called the oldest. "Unless you want to bring a whole storage cabinet down."


    Sixflame. That was me, but who was she?


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    "Land legs still developing?" asked another with a friendly smile. "It¡¯ll take a while for you to adjust. This is your first time, isn¡¯t it?"


    She was Sister¡­Sister Something.


    "My apologies, Sister," I said, trying to hold the kettle less awkwardly. "I''m looking for water. For Starcarver''s tea."


    They exchanged glances. The youngest asked, ¡°Do you think he¡¯s always this nervous? He can barely stand.¡±


    I swallowed. "Where is Starcarver?"


    "Vanguard Starcarver has gone to settle matters with the Hub Administrator," said the first Sister. "Sister Pathsong? Why don¡¯t you give him a hand."


    Sister Pathsong rose to her feet. ¡°Come on, it¡¯s not far. Can you manage to the other side of the hangar?¡±


    "Yes. Thank you." I bowed to her, which was a stupid thing to do because it brought a dizzying rush of blood to my head that almost sent me toppling.


    Sister Pathsong led me through narrow corridors formed by towering cargo containers, which now looked nothing like sentinels.


    "How are you feeling after the journey?" she asked.


    "Fine," I lied. ¡°It feels good to be moving.¡±


    She smiled. "There''s no shame in discomfort. After twenty-eight months in deep stasis with caloric infusion, anyone would be struggling. It''s quite a shock to the body."


    We stopped before a recessed alcove with a water dispensing system. "Here we are. Put your kettle under the spout."


    I positioned the kettle and watched as clear water streamed into it.


    "Tell me," Pathsong said, "what¡¯s your experience as a Torcher? Where was your First Passage?"


    "Um." The weight of the kettle strained my wrists. "I come from Enclave II."


    She frowned. "I¡¯ve not heard of it. Does it have a Torcher tradition?"


    "It¡¯s an...afterthought colony.¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know what this is.¡±


    ¡°A resource extraction colony that was abandoned when profits dropped.¡± I tried to smile. ¡°The company¡¯s evacuation vessels only took those named in the original contracts. Children were classed as unclaimed assets and left to inherit the abandoned workings.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that,¡± said Pathsong. Then she frowned and shook her head. "But unfortunately, if you haven''t learned your birth world through First Passage, then you are not a Torcher. You need to return to Enclave II."


    The kettle was nearly full. I had to adjust my grip. "Vanguard Starcarver said it would be all right," I muttered.


    "I am sure this is just a misunderstanding. We will have a word with him." Her expression softened slightly. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault. Not everyone should be a Torcher. We can find you work here in the Hub instead. I¡¯ve heard they¡¯re in desperate need of strong hands. A simple but honest life." She smiled brightly.


    I was saved from having to answer by the water, which had reached the kettle''s brim. The flow ceased automatically and I lifted the kettle with both hands. Pathsong patted my shoulder.


    "You¡¯ll be careful with that, won¡¯t you? It''s heavier than it looks."


    "Yes. Thank you, Sister."


    Pathsong disappeared into the labyrinth, leaving me alone with a kettle and lingering stasis sickness. I hurried back for my Vanguard, who had rescued me from Enclave II and promised new worlds, would soon be wanting his tea.

 2. The Hub and the Scientist

    Hub Administrator Fey Ayan leaned back in her chair, studying the man who towered before her desk. Starcarver filled her modest office with his presence, his broad shoulders almost blocking the window. Behind him, through the plexiglass, came first the prefabricated structures of the Hub complex, and then the lush surface of Kabus.


    Ayan tapped her stylus against the edge of her desk. "Your documentation is in order," she said. "However, I must insist on an itinerary for your pilgrimage."


    Starcarver''s expression remained impassive. "Administrator Ayan, our path cannot be plotted on your maps. Our feet will be guided by the world itself. And, if you don¡¯t mind, it is called a Passage."


    Across the office, Marlo glanced up from his monitoring station, then quickly returned to his screens. Ayan sighed. Her assistant might as well change his job title to eavesdropper.


    "This world," she said, "is Kabus, a moon of Mosogon. And you Torchers would do well to consider the dangers involved." She gestured toward the window. "Ninety-five percent of the surface remains unsurveyed despite our best efforts. We have no idea what is out there."


    "We understand the dangers," Starcarver replied. "We welcome them with open hearts and minds."


    Ayan suppressed a sigh. "But you must know where you''re going. How will you know what supplies to bring?"


    "We bring our nutrient packs as prescribed. That is all we need."


    Ayan¡¯s monitor flashed updated atmospheric readings. She swiped them away in irritation.


    "Administrator," Starcarver continued, "we require nothing from you beyond authorization. Our needs are minimal."


    Ayan¡¯s eye drifted across his outfit. Starcarver''s tall frame was draped in layers of well-travelled fabric. He had a patchwork vest over an earth-toned jumpsuit, adorned with bits and pieces¡­talismans? Whatever they were, he had them hanging from his short grey hair, too.


    "Your needs,¡± she said, ¡°are not the problem. Kabus has needs, and it might use you to fill them.¡±


    That caught his attention. Starcarver''s weathered face remained impassive, but his eyes narrowed slightly.


    "So far," she continued, leaning forward, "no drone has been able to break the jungle canopy without being entangled. We began surveying some of the closer karst caves and found web organisms that emit reactive spores when disturbed. We don¡¯t know what these spores are exactly because they immediately dissolved our sampling units. And the coastal swamps experience tidal shifts that you can¡¯t even begin to imagine."


    Starcarver studied her with unsettling calmness. "Fascinating."


    "I''m not trying to fascinate you," Ayan said. "I''m trying to warn you that this moon is resisting settlement. The Hub is our third attempt at establishing a foothold."


    Starcarver''s lips curved into the faintest smile. "All will be revealed to us," he said. "What you see as hostility, we recognize as invitation. The greater the challenge, the more profound the Passage." He straightened his already impressive height. "Now, if you could give us permission to depart the Hub, we would be very grateful."


    Behind her came the sounds of furious clicking as Marlo pretended to type a report. Ayan sighed. She had fulfilled her administrative duty by voicing her concerns. What happened to the Torchers beyond the Hub''s walls was, technically, not her concern.


    "Fine," she said slowly. "I¡¯ll send your departure clearance later. I assume you carry a device of some sort?"


    Starcarver inclined his head. "For now, I carry a simple device for just such a purpose. A good day to you, Hub Administrator."


    After he left, Ayan took a deep breath and slumped back into her chair. "They''re all going to die out there," she said, rubbing her temples.


    Marlo swiveled his chair to face her. "That''s their business," he said. "Kabus really needs colonists. We can''t be picky about who decides to set foot on it."


    "There¡¯s only eight of them, Marlo."


    "Don''t underestimate the Torchers," Marlo said. "Remember what happened on Colloid IV? World tsunami, all colonies wiped out. The planetary commission¡¯s salvage team thought they¡¯d be lucky to find corpses. Then wham! There were the Torchers, still making their sacred Passage through waterlogged ruins. Not a single casualty."


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    Through the window, Ayan watched the mist that crawled over the jungle, tinted lilac by the purple glow of Mosogon.


    "Colloid IV is a barren rock planet," she muttered. "Not a vegetated moon tortured by the pull of a gas giant." She turned from the window. "Get in touch with that field scientist. The one who smashed his strataglider."


    Marlo raised an eyebrow. "Ootu? What for?"


    "I want him to do¡­something."


    Marlo smiled. "Oh, do you want him to¡­monitor something?"


    "For now." Ayan returned her gaze to the window. "Let''s see how far faith carries them across that chaos."


    ?


    The social heart of the Hub had been optimistically designated as the "Colonial Reception Center." Now, thirteen years after the initial surge of interest had dwindled to a trickle, the cavernous space was depressingly empty. Tables meant for hundreds now accommodated fewer than a dozen scattered patrons, each determined to maintain maximum distance from the others.


    Ootu approached the vending machine, his gait betraying both his age and his complete disregard for it. He jabbed a thick, gnarly finger at the machine''s interface, cursing softly when it failed to respond. A second, more forceful prod produced a reluctant hum as the dispenser processed his selection.


    "Triple-strength stimulant. Ethanol additive," the machine announced cheerfully.


    "About damned time," Ootu muttered, snatching the cup. He took a sip, grimaced at the synthetic burn, then surveyed his fellow drinkers. There, that figure hunched at a corner table, staring out the window. The perfect audience.


    Ootu really wanted to talk.


    He settled his awkward frame into the chair opposite the man. Judging by his faded insignia, he was a maintenance worker.


    "Fascinating, isn¡¯t it?" Ootu said, gesturing toward the window with his drink.


    The man''s gaze remained fixed on the window, but a slight tilt of his head indicated he knew Ootu was there.


    "Name''s Ootu. Field Scientist. Xenobiology, geology, meteorology, any ology on offer." He took a swig. "I¡¯ve outlived seventeen research partners, three wives, and every prediction about life expectancy."


    The man¡¯s head tilted the other way.


    Ootu took this as interest and leaned forward. "Eight times they''ve tried to retire me. Eight times! And each time, I''ve found my way back into the field." He tapped his chest proudly. "Heart''s been replaced twice. Left lung once. Immune system''s entirely synthetic now. But the brain¡­" He tapped his temple. ¡°Original equipment. Mostly."


    The worker''s eyes briefly flicked toward Ootu before returning to the window.


    "Kabus is my latest obsession," Ootu continued. "The last moon of Mosogon to be colonized, but unlike the others, this one''s got something...peculiar about it. Can''t quite put my finger on it."


    He leaned back, swirling the amber liquid in his cup. "The other six moons? Standard stuff. Extraction colonies on the mineral-rich ones, research stations on the ice balls, luxury compounds on the dull rocky ones. But Kabus..." He shook his head. "Kabus resists categorization."


    The worker¡¯s finger twitched.


    "Take the magnetic field," Ootu said, slapping his palms on the table. "Completely at odds with its ferrous core composition. Should be stable, but it fluctuates in ways that defy known planetary physics. And the ocean ¡ª such tidal extremes! And don¡¯t get me started on the vegetation¡­¡±


    Ootu looked at the man expectantly, hoping he would indicate that the scientist should indeed get started.


    But no such indication was forthcoming. Ootu sighed, then looked at the worker more carefully. His pupils were massively dilated, reflecting the gas giant¡¯s glow.


    "Of course," Ootu continued softly, "there''s also the madness to consider. The Seep. Supposedly affects newcomers within their first year." He touched the worker¡¯s stiff arm. ¡°There¡¯s something on Kabus that¡­trickles into some minds, starts doing things in there. Although¡ª¡±


    "You...you see it too, right?" the worker interrupted.


    Ootu nodded. "Hmm. Yes, I¡¯d say¡ª"


    "SHHHH!" The man raised a finger to his lips. "Don¡¯t explain it away."


    ¡°Not another word about it,¡± said Ootu, reaching for his communicator. It chimed before he had even opened it, and he glanced at the caller id. "Good timing," he muttered, tapping to accept. "Ootu here."


    "It''s Marlo," came the familiar voice of Administrator Ayan''s assistant. "Ayan wants to discuss something with you."


    "She finally approved my request for the deep field?"


    "Not exactly," Marlo replied. "We¡¯ve got a party of Torchers about to go on their Passage. She wants you to accompany them."


    Ootu nearly spilled his drink. "Torchers? Cultists? Fine. When do they leave? Can I get my strataglider back?"


    "No," Marlo cut him off. "It''s still in pieces after you forgot to disengage the terrain-following autopilot and nearly decapitated two people."


    "Minor calibration issue," Ootu dismissed with a wave. "Easily fixed."


    "I¡¯m sure it is," Marlo continued. "Nevertheless, Torchers walk everywhere. They refuse technology. You''ll have to stroll alongside."


    Ootu considered this, absentmindedly watching as his catatonic table companion.


    "Walking doesn''t sound so bad," he finally said. "Gets me closer to the ground¡­but what''s in it for me?"


    "Ayan''s offering you control over next quarter''s research budget."


    "Control?" Ootu straightened in his chair. "As in, complete discretionary authority?"


    "Yep. Full research autonomy in exchange for keeping an eye on the Torchers and reporting back."


    Ootu''s weathered face split into a grin. "Tell her I accept. When do we leave?"


    "Tomorrow at 0500. You might want to go and meet them first. They¡¯re in Hangar 4D.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be there. And Marlo?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°There''s a worker here in the Colonial Reception Center showing advanced signs of Seep.¡± Ootu patted his table companion¡¯s arm. ¡°He needs a psych evaluation."


    "Got it. I''ll have someone there right away.¡±


    The connection terminated. Ootu pocketed his device, drained his drink, and stood. "Duty calls," he announced.


    His companion gave no indication of having heard. But as Ootu turned to leave, the worker grabbed his wrist.


    "Kabus knows you''re coming," he whispered, eyes still fixed on the window.


    Ootu gently extricated himself. "Yes, and I''ll be sure to take readings," he said.