Three days later, without any warning, Heshper had called for the second afvrik to approach, ordering everyone, including Aether and Pablo, to untie the skimmer, tent, and supply bins, and move it all over. Heshper was simple done with this ridiculous arrangement and the admittedly arduous task of hand-feeding their afvrik. To make things worse, apparently the second afvrik had been flaunting its freedom, swimming below them, twirling around, and emitting the equivalent of yummy sounds upon ascending from a feeding.
Halfway through transferring the bins, Tunhkset, the second afvrik’s handler, couldn’t keep her animal at the surface. It submerged a couple meters before anything had been strapped down. Most of the bins floated, and the two that sank were quickly retrieved by swift crewmembers. Unhkset apologized (more to Aether than Heshper), submitting her afvrik’s relative youth for clemency, followed by a curt commendation of Heshper’s masterful handling skills.
Now, eleven days into the journey—the past four spent following along the Hynka Country coast—and after several deviations in course to fish in “legendary waters,” Aether had lost her patience on enough occasions that Heshper was no longer speaking to her.
Heshper popped up in the frothy wash at the afvrik’s front, deftly found her footing, and walked to Pablo, sitting against the front of the skimmer. “How much longer north?” Heshper asked, her wide siphon holes sputtering water. “She is getting too cold. Obviously, submerging would help.”
After days of acting as go-between, Pablo no longer seemed concerned with his Livetrans proficiency, and he’d caught on to the key ingredients of Aether’s responses to the point where she now rarely needed to send them to him. And Heshper never seemed to catch on that she was being fed the same formulaic appeasements.
Lying on the skimmer pad, mostly sheltered from wind and mist behind the console riser, Aether saw the Livetrans pop up in her fone, and rolled over on her mat cushion, watching the exchange from the skimmer’s side.
“We apologize for the magnificent afvrik’s discomfort,” Pablo’s PA announced. “And our gratitude to you for your patience and dedication cannot be overstated.” Aether smiled. His BS placation skills were flourishing. “It appears that today is still our arrival day. Only three gaps remain.” He’d also mastered their gauge of daylight time—imprecisely calculated via the sun’s movement, measured with tentacle clubs held together in the air with an almond-shaped gap between the pads.
Hold on, Aether thought. Three gaps?
Was that all? Little more than an hour?
“This is certain? Three and we begin return?”
Vigilant, Aether zipped out an M.
AETHER: Hold reply!
AETHER: Remind her three to arrive, then uncertain time for us to fly ashore and search.
PABLO: Got it.
As if this oft-repeated detail had never been conveyed, Heshper put on a histrionic show of exasperation before sending a crewmember to notify the other afvrik of this “troubling new report.”
On the bright side, Heshper was well aware of their distance from home, and so the threats of turning back had long since diminished to halfhearted grumbling.
Aether stood and observed the coastline 5K off their starboard side, the indistinct cliffs faintly bobbing with the swells. This close to the coordinates, she could very well be passing her people. Though both John and Minnie were sticklers for detail, if the 50th parallel crossed the shore at inhospitable terrain, they’d likely make camp somewhere south of point zero.
She magnified, hazy cliffs sharpening into rich, layered textures of strata—bands of rock, soil, ice, and eroding permafrost. Intimidating surf crashed against a sheer face, white spray misting the air above. If the shoreline remained this treacherous over the next 10K, they’d undoubtedly camp elsewhere.
While a stubborn whisper strove to dissuade Aether, even since before leaving Threck Country (they’ll never make it across Hynka Country), there persisted in her a strange faith—confident perhaps to a foolish degree—affording her a decisive calm as far as John and Minnie were concerned. Even as locusts of doubt plagued her own journey, those two would do what they set out to do. She wavered around 50/50 on Ish.
But here they were! This was truly the last mile. Soon, they might even pick up an emergency beacon.
No more than three minutes after the word beacon floated through her head, a tone sounded in Aether’s ear module, and a little red exclamation point flashed at the top of her HUD. In her peripheral, Aether caught Pablo’s head spin toward her.
“You see that?” he shouted, searching the coastline. Aether nodded absently as the alert opened mapping. “They’re here!”
“What do you see?” Heshper said, stepping onto the platform and gazing toward shore. “You see your people?”
Aether ignored her, focusing on the signal source. Mapping was all screwed up, attempting to locate mountains in the area. The signal wasn’t ground based.
Up?
Aether squinted at the sky, then felt dumb. It was a bounce. They’d aimed a transponder at the atmosphere to extend its range. A very John scheme. A grin spread across her face. She knew he’d pull through.
Heshper was still talking. “… don’t see what you see. Is it this way? There? Will you fly now? Go get people and return.”
Aether faced Heshper. “Not yet. We don’t see them yet, but we know they’re close. We will prepare for flying and go when we have better idea where they are.”
Thirty minutes later, a second alert activated. This one was direct—a skimmer—EV5’s B skimmer. Ish’s. Had they ever found her?
Now they had precise coordinates. Mapping put the skimmer on a nearby beach.
Finally able to give Heshper something to do, Aether pointed. “Please head toward shore. That way.”
Surprisingly absent of grievance, Heshper went to the afvrik’s trailing side and dipped her arms into the two reproductive slits, cilia tickling the tender membranes within, signaling the order to turn. As always, the afvrik complied, gradually shifting course to the precise direction. Behind them, Tunhkset steered the other afvrik to follow.
With everything moved off and away from the skimmer and resecured directly to the holds, Aether was ready to take to the sky. Pablo, on the other hand, kept thinking of more supplies he wanted to bring. What if someone had hypothermia, or frostbite, or gangrene? What if he needed to board someone for a spinal? Once his backpack had filled, he consolidated food into a single bin, and began filling the empty.
“It’s probably a two-minute flight,” Aether pleaded. “If we can’t just bring them back here, I’ll come back for anything you need!”
Obstinate, Pablo shook his head as he inventoried the additional gear. “Nope. Level eight injury. No such thing as overprep.”
“Agreed,” Aether said. “And I’ll refrain from mentioning you’ve had twelve days to prepare for this moment.”
“That sounded like the opposite of refrain. That was frain if I’ve ever heard it.”
Even with talk of serious injuries, a giddiness had charged the air. 27 days had passed since station evac. They were mere minutes from reunifying with family. Aether’s heart thumped like she’d done 20 minutes on a legger. She watched as Pablo went to seal the bin, thought of something, peeked in, slid the lid back on, and pulled it away again.