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It was already dusk when Ryder and Suvi set out from Prodromos, and a cool, dry night had settled over the desert by the time they bumped their way up one of Eos’s hills. Ryder tried to press down her nervousness—she didn’t want Suvi to mistake it for fear about their surroundings. It had taken a little persuasion to pull her away from civilization for the night. She’d waited until it was safe: no radiation, no Kett, but as she watched Suvi pick at the hem of her shirt she wondered if it was too much too fast. Maybe in more ways than one.
Suvi’s eyes flicked to hers. She’d been caught watching.
“Hey, eyes on the road!” she protested, a flush in her cheeks. Ryder grinned, complying, but reached for the button to pop the sunroof. It was an addition few of her companions approved of—Drax liked it for its mobile assault potential—but the seal was pneumatic and the fresh air in places they could find was more than worthwhile. Even more worthwhile now as the wind whipped through Suvi’s hair and she tilted her head backward, a toothy grin on her face.
“I love it,” she said. “You can see the stars. I’m sure Kallo disapproves.”
“He doesn’t know,” Ryder laughed, and Suvi shook her head but didn’t look away from the sky.
“More stars where we’re going,” Ryder promised. The tension had left her body, and it had left Suvi’s too.
Half an hour later they rolled to a stop at the flat summit of one of the planet’s tallest bluffs. Ryder had picked the spot carefully—she had even come the week before to move small boulders to make a campsite (thank you, SAM-enhanced biotics). It was undisturbed now, no people and no wildlife. She’d picked a spot that faced away from the dark but looming Kett complex in the basin. She wanted a night without reminders of what they faced. She wanted to do something she’d planned for as long as she could remember.
Ryder jumped down from the Nomad and stretched, scrambling to help Suvi when the door on her side opened. Suvi giggled, taking her hand and stepping down easily into the dust. She stretched too, then took a few steps toward the edge.
“Careful,” Ryder warned.
“I know, I know,” she protested. Ryder couldn’t help her smile. “It’s beautiful.”
With fresh eyes, Ryder looked out over the landscape of the planet she’d helped tame. She exhaled sharply at the thought, no, tame wasn’t the right word—for something so vast it never could or should be. But there was a tinge of pride, of bubbly excitement, as her eyes followed Suvi’s across the outlines of the bluffs and mountains, over the dunes and through the sandy channels below. Ruins dotted the landscape in clusters, and in the far distance they could see the flickering light of a fire. Hunters or surveyors maybe. It wasn’t kett—too tiny, too warm. When Suvi turned back toward her, Ryder shook her head, smiling softly.
“Thank you,” Suvi said, stepping forward to take both of her hands.
“Hm?”
“I should have been out here sooner. Well, maybe not—guns and danger and all that.” She paused, inhaling softly. “But I’m glad I am now.”
Ryder’s face felt warm.
“Me too.”
Suvi was nearly as efficient as Ryder at setting camp. They popped the tent up easily—she’d had to enlist Vetra’s help in finding a nice one meant for two people—and when Ryder struggled with the fire starter, Suvi nudged her away and took it from her hands.
“Did you do more field work back in the Milky Way?” Ryder asked.
Suvi grinned.
“Lots. I always liked adventure.”
A little breeze stirred the flames that finally sparked in the dip she’d dug, and Suvi let out a triumphant little yelp. Ryder rolled out a canvas a few lengths away, and after another sweep of the camp Suvi came and settled onto it with a sigh.
“Did you bring food?” she asked, and Ryder nodded, tugging her bag over by the strap. She grinned as she dug through its contents.
“Close your eyes,” she told Suvi, who shot her a suspicious look before complying. She’d packed rations—nice ones, mind you—but there was a third foil pouch in the front pocket of her pack. She dropped it into Suvi’s waiting hands, and Suvi peeked one eye open.
“Open it,” Ryder encouraged. She didn’t want to hide her excitement—she slid close to peer over Suvi’s shoulder as she slowly unfolded the packet.
“Strawberries,” Suvi said softly when she realized. “Ryder—“
“Freeze dried,” Ryder acquiesced, but she couldn’t help her wide smile. “From the first batch. People have been talking about them on the Nexus for weeks. I had to bribe one of the aquaculturists.”
Suvi shook her head, a wondered smile on her lips as she carefully extracted one small pink slice.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Try one,” Ryder replied. Suvi hummed, leaning back against Ryder’s shoulder.
“Here,” she offered. “You have the first bite.”
“I got them for you!”
“Together, then,” Suvi negotiated, snapping the piece in two. Ryder took it, her eyes on Suvi as Suvi’s eyes were on the fruit. She brought it to her lips. “Now.”
The berry was sweet and bright as it dissolved on Ryder’s tongue, but not nearly so as Suvi’s face. Her eyes fluttered shut, a soft mmm escaping her lips before she smiled.
“The first strawberries in Andromeda,” she said, eyes still closed. “Just think.”
Taking a breath, Ryder leaned backward, and Suvi came down with her. Flat on her back, she looked up at the stars and then down at Suvi whose eyes had reopened. She took another strawberry slice before grinning up at Ryder from her newfound place against her chest.
“I brought you here for a reason,” Ryder finally said, and Suvi grinned.
“ Other than seduction through strawberries?”
Ryder snorted, but her cheeks felt hot. Suvi giggled. She cleared her throat.
“Yeah.” She drew a breath then looked back to the sky, eyes sweeping its inky darkness. There were fewer stars than she’d always hoped—swallowed up by the Scourge, maybe, but the ones that remained twinkled in the thickening atmosphere. Something about them helped soothe her nerves. “When I was a kid on Earth, my mom and I liked to look for the constellations. We’d go on trips sometimes, just for the night, to preserves where it was dark.” She laughed softly, more of an exhale, and Suvi reached for her hand and squeezed. “I always dreamed of getting to name one for myself. Finding something new in the stars. Everywhere we went, though, the skys were mapped, and they had names in every language. On all the planets I did research on, from the Citadel, the colonies….”
“Not here,” Suvi said softly.
“Not here. Dad promised me I could name the first one.” She shifted. “I’m sure the colonists have done it by now, and—“
“No,” Suvi said firmly enough to take Ryder by surprise. “That doesn’t count. We haven’t written them down yet.” She rolled off of Ryder’s chest to settle at her side, linking their hands between them. “We’ll write this down as soon as we get back to the Tempest.” She grinned, meeting Ryder’s gaze from the side. “Make it official.”
“Okay,” Ryder said, then she laughed, nerves and joy and something that felt a lot like love bubbling up all at once. “Okay.”
They settled back into the blanket, searching the sky.
“We each get one,” Ryder said suddenly, cheeks hot. “I forgot to say.”
“Of course,” Suvi said though. “Together.”
They lay in silence for a while, focussed on their task. The quiet of Eos was a different type of quiet—no animal sounds, no leaves blowing, but the wind played the canyons like an instrument, deep and hollow more than whistling, and it was an almost soothing sound.
“Found one,” Suvi whispered, pointing diagonally across the sky. “Hemionitis arifolia, the Heart Fern.”
“I don’t see it,” Ryder said, and Suvi guided her hand to point toward a bright star.
“That’s the bottom point.”
Ryder followed her finger around the elongated heart shape formed by eight stars and laughed.
“Hemiti—”
“Hemionitis arifolia,” Suvi repeated, snuggling closer.
“Perfect,” Ryder said. It was. It was almost scary, how content she was. How much she wanted to share this.
She searched the sky a while longer. She could pick out triangles and squares, stretched shapes that could be horses or old school rocket ships.
“There,” she finally said. “Near the horizon. It looks like the Tempest.”
“Hm.” Suvi squinted. “It kind of does.”
Ryder cleared her throat.
“SAM,” she said. “Could you make a star chart or something?”
“I’ll add Hemionitis arifolia and Tempest to our maps.”
“Is he always watching?” Suvi asked. She sounded more curious than concerned. “Or listening, rather? Perceiving?”
“I can sort of tell him not to,” Ryder said. She closed her eyes. “I did tonight.”
“Mm,” Suvi hummed. There was a rustling sound. “Fascinating.”
Ryder heard her shift. She opened her eyes to find Suvi looking down at her, blue eyes twinkling with the same light as the stars.
“Here,” she said, holding out a strawberry. Ryder took it, savoring the sweet burst of flavor. The moment it was past her lips, Suvi settled back onto her chest.
“I love you,” she said softly before Ryder could swallow. A tide of warmth followed the strawberry down, flooding through her chest, out her fingertips, ticklish and scary and new and complete. And maybe that was the other reason she’d dragged Suvi out here.
“I love you,” she rolled over so their eyes could meet.
“Yeah?” A smile played on her lips.
“Yes.”
Suvi laughed, a bright sound that carried in the night, and Ryder leaned up to kiss her. It was worth it—the dust and the fear and the Remnant and the Kett—for that smile on her face, for a night like this, and the hope for a million more.