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"SAM," Ryder asked, yanking her helmet off, "how's the water?"
"The toxicity issue is resolved."
The three of them stood grouped beneath the shade of the vault's overhang. Maybe Kadara couldn't beat Eos for heat, but there was something about the humidity in the air that had Ryder lagging. She was usually the first up the rise, the first barreling into combat; today, increasingly, she'd fallen behind. SAM could keep her going, but judging by the splotchy red of her face and the sweat curling the ends of her hair, she would crash hard when they got back to the Tempest.
Just now, though—exhaustion be damned—there was a familiar gleam in the hazel of her eyes. Vetra braced herself.
"I'll race you," Peebee said, already hopping on one foot to get her boot off.
"Not fair," Ryder shot back, but she started working at the seals on her armor, anyway. Her fingers fumbled and pressed at the shoulder, haphazard. "I've got so much more gear—"
"Whose fault is that?"
Ryder let out a frustrated growl. "Would you rather go into every firefight without my rifle—"
"I still would not advise swimming," SAM interjected. "By all appearances, the water is safe, but this technology is unpredictable."
Neither Peebee nor Ryder paused, which was in line with their natures. Ryder had her rifle, her pistol, and one arm unclasped by the time Peebee had shucked her boots, her gun, and her jacket. With another huff of impatience, Ryder started working at the other arm.
"Too slow!" Peebee laughed; she finished wriggling out of her pants and ran for the water.
"Ugh." Ryder dropped the pieces of armor to the ground and started working on the seals of the chest piece, noticeably slower now. It hissed as it came unclasped. She pulled the scalp-tight hood of her under-armor back, too, ruffling her fingers through bedraggled hair. "I was always going to lose that one."
Vetra watched as Peebee dipped a toe in. "I don't see you losing, actually. More like letting Peebee test if it's still fatal or not."
Ryder laughed, bending to get at her legs and boots. "Fair point. And if anyone could survive it—"
A shriek of glee put that question to bed: Peebee had splashed into the pool, which was apparently no longer murderous. Vetra thought that SAM was sulking, actually. His silence seemed particularly stiff.
"SAM," Ryder coaxed, as if she'd noticed it, too, "we gotta take a risk, every now and then. That's what we came for, right?"
"You take risks, on average, 38.7 times per day. Most of them are necessary risks."
Ryder looked sideways at Vetra, a sly smile curving her lips. "I'd guess you don't put this under the category of necessary risks."
"No, Pathfinder."
The legs and boots of her armor popped free, and she left them in the pile with the rest as she began to peel out of her under-armor. Hurriedly, Vetra got busy looking somewhere else. Not that there'd be much of anything scandalous to see, or anything—if Peebee had only stripped down to her underwear, Ryder certainly wasn't going to take more off—but it felt rude, still. To be caught looking.
When was the last time she'd looked at someone and felt that frisson of electricity in her blood? More than six hundred years, at least, and all that passing time had amplified the sensation.
"Hey," Ryder said, from five feet and a world away, "you coming?"
Vetra laughed. "Only if you'd like to watch me drown," she said. Electricity or not, she always had some kind of witty comeback for Ryder. The woman practically demanded it, and Vetra knew how to deliver.
"It's three feet at best. You're tall." She had that note in her voice that made Vetra wish they were face-to-face; Ryder's eyebrows did the most interesting things with incredulity.
"All it takes is one playful shove from Peebee—or you—"
"Please. I would never."
They both laughed, quietly this time, punctuated by the small noise of Ryder getting her limbs out of her under-armor. Vetra marked the ridges on the mountains, rising up around the valley, but it was quiet, peaceful.
"Fuck," Ryder swore.
Hah. Exactly nothing was quiet, or peaceful, around Ryder.
"Problem?"
"I've sweated so damn much I can't even get out of this. SAM, how about you turn that part of my physiology off for a while?"
"She's kidding," Vetra cut in, and then, before she could overthink it, "need help?"
Ryder sighed, a gust of air more like a tropical storm. "Please. If I don't get out of this thing, I think I'm going to die."
"Humans." Vetra turned and kept talking, because otherwise, she wouldn't be able to start talking again. "Drack's right about you."
"What, how squishy and watery we are?"
"Oh, you didn't hear the rest of the conversation you were eavesdropping on? Dramatic, too."
Ryder glanced over her shoulder, likely just to make sure Vetra caught the roll of her eyes. "Please," she said. "Wait until Scott wakes up. You haven't seen dramatic yet."
She was squishy and vulnerable. From this vantage, especially, a bruise beginning to form on her lower back from a fall earlier in the day, her thin skin damp with sweat, the curve of her spine actually visible down the line of her back, disappearing beneath her sports bra. Just the dip, just the impression, but Vetra had to fight the nonsensical urge to force her right back into her armor where she'd be safe. Safer, at least.
She'd gotten the under-armor off of one arm, but she was struggling with the other. Vetra placed a hand on her shoulder and slid her talons beneath it. It peeled away from her skin—not easy, but progress.
And she was burning, under Vetra's hand. Skin not soft but almost tacky instead with a day's long exertion. She pulled her hand back, tucked her fingers tight against her palm.
"Thank you," Ryder said, making quick work of the under-armor now.
Vetra stepped away. "What would you do without me?"
"Starve," Ryder said, matter-of-factly. "Obviously. Now. Do me one more favor and come put your feet in at the edge of the pool, just so we can say we had a bona-fide beach day when we get back to the Tempest."
"A beach day," Vetra repeated, amused.
"A lake day? Whatever. Hey."
Ryder stepped in, narrowing the gap between them again, and reached up to rest her hand on Vetra's shoulder.
"When's the last time you relaxed?" she asked, her voice softer now, face sweet and sincere. Like that last conversation, after their misadventure with Sid. "We've been running from one end of this cluster to the other. You've been going longer than me. Press pause. Enjoy the scenery while it isn't trying to kill us. Thirty minutes, tops."
She'd run out of words—again. She dipped her head in acknowledgment, and Ryder smiled: not the smile she joked or laughed with, but something more private. At odds with her usual, but not false. Vetra believed that smile.
"Hurry up." She patted Vetra's shoulder and took off for the water.
Vetra shook her head—for the benefit of herself, alone—and started working at the seals of her own armor while Ryder splashed a newly-shrieking Peebee with water. By the time she made it to the edge, they'd exhausted what remained of their energy. Peebee drifted on her back across the surface. Ryder did the same, but with her eyes open, watching the sky.
And Vetra watched her, no longer covert. The way she looked, when she thought no one else was looking. Vetra had caught glimpses of it before, usually between stops on the Tempest, but only in that split-second before Ryder caught sight of her. This was something else entirely. She looked...content. Not anxious, or scared, the way she sometimes did in those single instants, but happy.
"Look at this place," Ryder said, despite the fact that her ears were very much submerged. "Isn't it something?"
Wasn't this something—that maybe Ryder had known she was looking all along, and let her see.
"Sure is," Vetra said.