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Five days.
It had been five days since the search for Feldspar was officially called off, and the weight of it hung around Slate’s shoulders like a shawl of lead. The emergency rations in Feldspar’s ship were made to last a hearthian three months. They’d searched for six. The reality of the situation was impossible to deny.
Feldspar was gone.
Slate fell back on what they always did when faced with a problem they couldn’t fix and buried themself in a new project. They stood at their worktable in the middle of their work… clearing, or whatever. After burning down the workshop for a third time, Rutile demanded Slate perform any experimental upgrades outdoors, so they’d needed to lug everything away from the village and anything too flammable. It was fine, though. Dragging heavy engine parts and tools around was distracting, and Slate very much wanted to be distracted right now. Slate cranked the wrench, breaking free the combustion chamber intake valve of the engine on their worktable and tried not to think.
To say no one took the Feldspar news well was an understatement. The new astronauts returned to their previous missions, sending in regular updates, but the playful chatter over the radio had stopped. Slate hadn’t seen Hornfels since they broke the bad news. Hopefully they were getting some sleep instead of chugging blackroot tea day and night to stay awake by the ground control radio. And Gossan… Stars above, Slate didn’t know anymore.
The intake valve fell free and clattered to the table. Slate tossed it into the spare parts bin and started swapping out the gaskets for the new and improved intake valve.
During the search, Gossan had spent every waking moment combing space for Feldspar. The few occasions they were on Timber Hearth only lasted long enough to resupply and for Slate to make repairs on Gossan’s ship. In that time, Gossan hadn’t spoken more than a handful of times to Slate, and only to give status reports on the ship or a curt demand for repairs. At first, Slate just chalked it up to Gossan being as upset as the rest of them, but as the months passed, it felt more like Gossan was pulling away.
The icing on the cake was when Hornfels gave Slate the devastating news that the search was ending. In the emotional discussion that followed, Hornfels let slip that Gossan had stayed in close contact with them during the search, with deep, worried conversations lasting hours.
Not a word of it ever reached Slate.
Gossan, who Slate grew up with. Gossan, who helped bury Slate’s pet kipfish when they were six, who spent patient hours letting Slate ramble on about their dreams and new designs. Gossan, who Slate had held one quiet night and murmured endless soft reassurances to, promising that they would become an incredible pilot of their own merit, not just someone in Feldspar’s shadow. Gossan, who’d given Slate a soft, shy kiss for good luck before their first launch. Feldspar was— had been Slate’s best friend, but Gossan was someone special. Someone… more.
Slate dropped the mask over their face and started welding the new valve in place. They focused on the heat radiating from the welding torch, the sharp, familiar scent of melting steel, the flickering glow visible through the faceplate, the breeze on the back of their bare neck, the weight of their welding mask, anything to stop thinking. It didn’t help.
Six months, and they’d barely exchanged words. Five days, and Gossan hadn’t even looked their way. Slate had already lost their best friend, they didn’t want to lose Gossan, too.
Curse it all.
They finished welding the new intake valve into place and slid the faceplate up. Slate leaned in close, inspecting their work before settling back down to clean the fuel lines.
“Whatcha workin’ on?”
A hatchling peered around a tree on the edge of the clearing, watching Slate with bright saffron eyes. They were clutching a floppy plush toy in one hand and were young enough their ears were still only a few stubby inches long.
“I’m upgrading the intake valve and combustion pistons,” Slate answered. “Should increase fuel efficiency by fifteen percent.”
“What’s that mean?”
Slate closed two eyes to peer down the fuel line and gauged it as clean enough.
“Means a ship’ll get more energy out of the same amount of fuel. Means a ship can go further and still come…” Slate almost choked on the word. For a few precious seconds, they’d forgotten. “...come back.”
The hatchling didn’t seem to notice, still watching from behind the tree. “Oh. That’s good, right?”
“Yeah, that’s good,” Slate said. “You like engines?”
“I like ships.” The hatchling shrugged. “Engines are okay, I guess, ‘cause they’re part of the ship. I like rocks, mostly. Starstones are my most favorite. They’re pretty. And really really hard.”
A pity. None of this brood of hatchlings had shown any real interest in engineering, though liking ships was better than nothing, Slate supposed. They began coupling the fuel lines to the engine.
“You’re gonna have to know how the engine works if you want to fly in a ship. Wanna get a better view?”
“Can I?” The hatchling’s stubby ears flicked in interest and they skittered over without waiting for an answer.
“Sure you can,” Slate said. “Which hatchling are you? I can’t keep any of you kiddos straight anymore.”
“I’m Quarry. And this is Toddle.” Quarry held up their plush toy, which was sewn in the shape of something vaguely quadrupedal and reptilian with four blue button eyes of mismatching hues.
“Good to meet the both of you,” Slate said, the ghost of a smile tugging at their mouth. “Wanna hear how an engine works?”
Quarry nodded.
“Alright, so first the fuel comes in through these lines here…” Slate walked them through the process of a combustion engine, trying to keep the explanation simple, though there were still a few times when the hatchling’s face went vacant as Slate’s explanation went too technical.
“Then the thrust comes from this part here after—”
“What are you doing?” The tone was clipped, more accusatory than curious.
Slate snapped their head toward the sound to find Gossan standing at the edge of the clearing, arms folded and their mouth pressed into a hard line. A flare of hope sparked in Slate’s chest, followed by a coil of unpleasant anxiety in their gut.
“Gossan,” Slate said. “You… You’re here.”
“Obviously,” Gossan said. “And you didn’t answer the question.”
“I’m improving the fuel efficiency on the 4-63 model,” Slate gestured toward Quarry, “and educating the next generation.”
Gossan’s amber eyes flicked to the hatchling. “You should head back to the village, Quarry. It’s not safe to be around Slate when they’re working.”
Oh, so it was gonna be like that, huh? The spark of hope beating in Slate’s chest flickered and faded, leaving behind a smouldering coal of anger.
“They’re plenty safe,” Slate snapped.
“That hasn’t been my experience,” Gossan said dryly.
Slate stomped toward Gossan, leaving Quarry looking between the arguing adults and the engine. Gossan stared up at Slate, unimpressed, even as Slate jabbed a finger at Gossan’s chest.
“If you’re trying to bring up the rutting Attlerock incident again—”
“Language.”
“—then I’m telling you once again that was a fluke.”
“A fluke?” Gossan didn’t raise their voice, but the ice in their tone was sharp enough to cut to the bone. While Slate’s anger was smouldering fire and explosive rockets, Gossan’s temper was cold and biting, as bitter and frigid as the void between stars. “A fluke? Your retro-rockets failed. You sent me up in a death trap with no way to slow down before smashing a new crater into the moon.”
“And yet you came back without a scratch!” Slate shouted, jabbing Gossan in the chest again. “You literally walked out of the wreckage and over to Esker’s camp without a problem. Sure sounds like my ships are safe even in very unlikely retro-rocket failures.”
“Ah, yes. And what was the reason I survived and didn’t split my head open against the cockpit window?” Gossan asked.
Slate clenched their jaw and ground their teeth, hands clenching into fists at their side. Gossan looked up at Slate with apparent calm, but this close Slate could see the tight tension in Gossan’s jaw and a vein throbbing in their neck.
“Could it be because of the safety harness I insisted you install?” Gossan continued when Slate refused to give them the satisfaction of an answer. “Face it. Without me badgering you every step of the way, trying to temper your insanity with the most basic of safety procedures, we wouldn’t have a single astronaut left.”
“There wouldn’t even be a space program without me! Outer Wilds Ventures wouldn’t exist!” Slate roared in Gossan’s face. They gave Gossan a shove and advanced on them as they stumbled backward. “I’ve built every rocket, every ship that sent a hearthian into space. We’d still be trapped on this rock if not for me! I’m the only one who’s succeeded at making a rocket strong enough to escape our gravity. Escape Giant’s Deep’s gravity. None of you would be worth anything if I hadn’t—”
Gossan’s eyes flicked to something over Slate’s shoulder and widened.
“Quarry, no!” Gossan shoved Slate aside and charged past them.
Slate turned around just in time to watch the little hatchling press the big shiny red button on the control pad wired to the engine. The engine revved to life with a roar. A wordless shout escaped Slate’s throat and they lurched forward, but Gossan was already there, shoving Quarry out of the way. With nothing to secure the engine to the table, it flipped forward, ripping free from its fuel lines to smash into Gossan’s head.
Gossan dropped to the ground like a stone, the engine landing on their chest, still burning and tearing itself apart atop them.
“Gossan!!!” Slate leapt over the dripping fuel lines. “Quarry, get back to the village! Get Rutile!”
The hatching scrambled to their feet and bolted.
With the fuel lines severed, the engine died within seconds, sputtering into silence. Slate seized the engine block, heedless of the searing hot metal against their hands, and pulled with all their strength, heart racing in their chest.
“Don’t you dare, don’t you rutting dare leave me too, you shitty stars-cursed void-brained…”
Slate’s arms and back strained, and they heaved the engine off and to the side. Gossan took a desperate gasp of air, and in that moment it was the most beautiful sound Slate had ever heard. A wave of relief washed over them, so intense that it made them dizzy, and they dropped to their knees.
“Gossan? Goss? Hey bud, can you hear me?”
Slate cupped the back of Gossan’s head. Their face was a mess of blood, the crimson splash making a stark contrast against the pale blue of their skin. They breathed sharply through their mouth in heavy, wet gasps and one ear dangled unnaturally, sliced so deep that only a thin sinew of tissue kept it connected.
“You still all in there? Let’s get you up, get back to the village, see if Gneiss can stitch that ear back together. Goss?” Slate’s voice shook. “C’mon, Gossan. Say something.”
Three amber eyes snapped open, the fourth concealed behind the worst of the bloodsplatter, and locked on to Slate’s gaze.
“Whew, there you are!” Slate gave a little laugh of relief. “That one was a bit of a doozy, huh? C’mon, let’s head back to—”
Gossan punched Slate in the jaw. Slate reeled back, falling back onto their rear.
“Hey! What was that for?!” Slate rubbed their jaw, the taste of blood in their mouth.
“Reckless!” Gossan shouted, forcing themself upright. “Careless! Irresponsible!”
“Whoa, hey. Maybe you shouldn’t push yourself there.” Slate scrambled to their feet and reached out to help Gossan up, only to have their hands slapped away.
“Get off me! Don’t touch me!” Gossan snarled. They clambered to their feet, damaged ear flopping uselessly. “You thoughtless, idiotic, inconsiderate bastard! I’m going to say it because no one else will. It’s your fault Feldspar is dead!”
Slate froze like they’d been slapped in the face and a wave of cold dread washed through them. They’d spent the last six months trying to not think about this exact possibility. Slate swallowed, and immediately buried the fear and guilt under a wave of fury.
“You take that back,” they growled. “You take those words back right now.”
“No!” Gossan grabbed Slate by the toolbelt bandolier across their chest. “You know I’m right! Your engines blew up or didn’t work and now they’re dead in space because of you!”
“No!” Slate roared back in their face. “The equipment was fine! You want to talk about being reckless? Feldspar was reckless! More reckless than I ever could be! They never told anyone where they were going or what they were doing until they’d already done it! If they’d just told Hornfels where in the void they were going, we’d know where to search!”
Slate tried to push Gossan away, but Gossan didn't let them, keeping their deathgrip on Slate’s toolbelt. Slate snarled and seized Gossan’s scarf instead, one of a pair that would never be seen again. Slate leaned down so they were almost touching foreheads.
“Feldspar tried to do something stupid without telling us. Again. They either got themself killed or wound up stranded and too prideful to signal for help. Don’t you dare try to blame this on me.”
This close to Gossan’s baleful glare, Slate didn’t see the punch coming. Gossan’s fist hit them hard enough to knock their welding visor clean off.
“You’re deluding yourself! You crashed me into the moon, you nearly killed a hatchling today, and you killed Feldspar!”
Gossan raised another fist, but Slate was ready for it this time. Slate grabbed Gossan by the shirt and threw their weight forward, knocking them both to the ground in a scuffle.
“Take it back!” Slate shouted.
Gossan hit Slate repeatedly in the chest, but didn’t have enough leverage for any real force behind the blows. “No! You’re a danger to the entire village!”
“I am not!”
Gossan was scrappy with dense wiry muscle, but Slate was taller and used their larger size to their advantage, trapping Gossan’s legs with their own and pinning both of Gossan’s wrists to the ground. Gossan snarled and thrashed, but didn’t break free from Slate’s tightening grip.
“You know what?” Slate sneered between panting breaths. “If anything, this is your fault. If you were even half the pilot Feldspar was, you would have found them. You said yourself that you never got through Dark Bramble's ice field to do a proper search. You don’t deserve this scarf!”
Slate let one of Gossan’s wrists go to try and wrestle the scarf off their neck instead. Gossan yelled in protest and lashed out to grab at Slate’s face, covering half their eyes and shoving their head back. Slate scrambled and fumbled for the scarf’s edge and their fingers closed around Gossan’s injured ear instead. With a sick tear and a yelp from Gossan, the sinew of tissue keeping the ear connected ripped free.
Slate froze, staring at the length of severed ear in their hand, and their mind went blank with shock. Gossan took the opportunity to lurch upward and slam their forehead into Slate’s with enough force to make Slate see stars. Before they could react, Gossan had flipped them over, shoving them into the ground and sitting on Slate’s chest.
“I hate you!” Gossan screamed, tears streaming from their eyes to mix with blood. They balled their fists and began wailing on Slate, striking them over and over. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!!!”
Slate raised their arms to protect their face, and the clearing was abruptly filled with shouts all around them. At least three people dragged Gossan off Slate and two more pulled Slate to their feet.
“Easy, easy!” Hornfels was suddenly between them, pushing the two further apart. “Break it up! Porphy, get Gossan to the infirmary. Slate, are you…?”
“I’m fine.” Slate snapped, pulling away from the others. “And I’ve got to clean up this mess, so all of you get out of here!”
They gestured to the remains of the engine scattered across the ground. Hornfels held up their hands placatingly.
“Alright, alright. We’ll head out. I’ll come back to check on you, okay?”
“Don’t bother,” Gossan snorted. Someone, probably Porphy, had draped a blanket around their shoulders. Porphy had an arm around Gossan’s back and was trying to guide them out of the clearing. Gossan shot Slate one last sour look. “You just can’t stop destroying everyone around you.”
“I said break it up!” Hornfels shot back, then sighed. “Look, I’m going to give you both some time to cool down. I’ll meet you back here in a bit, okay?”
“Whatever,” Slate grumbled, and turned away. “Do whatever you want. Doesn’t matter to me.”
Hornfels closed their eyes and pinched the bridge of their nose, letting out a slow breath. “Just… don’t go anywhere, okay?”
Slate gave a grunt in response and Hornfels ushered everyone else out of the clearing. In a few minutes, the commotion was gone as soon as it had arrived, leaving Slate alone in the silence of the clearing. Cursing under their breath, Slate began picking up the pieces of the ruined engine. They moved slowly, bruises blossoming under their clothing from the fight and their hands burned where they’d grabbed the hot engine.
Stupid burns. Stupid engine. Stupid hatchling. Stupid Gossan. Stupid Feldspar. Why’d they have to go and vanish? Everything had been wrong since then. And Gossan! What were they thinking?! Why’d they even bother coming over today? Just to antagonize Slate? Well, that sure didn’t work out for them, did it? Serves them right, to just show up and pick a fight instead of… of just…
The severed ear still lay on the ground, bright blue against the dirt, with a pink sliver of exposed tissue and flecked with crimson blood. Slate stared at it for a long moment, and their anger fizzled out like coals doused in water. Their stomach roiled, and for a moment Slate thought they were going to be sick. They dumped their armful of scrap metal onto the table and dropped down onto a log, staring at the forgotten ear.
Slate reached inside themself for that familiar burn of indignant fury, but it wouldn’t come. Stars, this was worse. Anger was so much easier to feel than whatever this was. This… this grief and sorrow and guilt. Slate started to drop their face into their hands and stopped when they saw the blood smeared on their burned palms. Gossan’s blood. Slate’s stomach clenched. Their eyes stung and a lump tightened in their throat.
What had they done?
“Hey,” came Hornfels' voice from behind them.
Slate flinched.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Just got here,” Hornfels sat down beside Slate. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m fine.”
“Mm,” Hornfels said. They didn’t sound convinced, but didn’t push the point. “I also wanted to find out what happened.”
Slate fell silent, staring at their knees.
“Because something did happen,” Hornfels continued, when Slate didn’t answer. “A few people are asking questions back at the village. A lot more than a few people are jumping right to making assumptions.”
Slate grimaced. “…I was working on the engine and Quarry wanted to know what I was doing. I was showing ‘em how an engine works when Gossan showed up and just… started pitching a fit. Needling me and getting on my nerves. We started arguing and Quarry hit the ignition button before I’d had a chance to drop the inputs down. The engine fired up at full power and without being chained down, it…”
Slate made a vague spinning motion with one hand, mimicking the engine flipping off the table.
“Why wasn’t the engine secured from the beginning?” The disappointment was clear in Hornfels’ voice. Hornfels had the incredible ability to make anyone feel like shit with a single disappointed look, so Slate stared resolutely at the ground instead.
“Because I didn’t need to. I was going to test the fuel efficiency at four percent power, and that would cause barely a rumble, and certainly no actual thrust. I didn’t expect a hatchling to hit the ignition when I wasn’t looking, or for Gossan to run in there and just…”
Slate swallowed around the lump in their throat. Their hands trembled, and they clenched their bloody fists to hide it.
“Could you have deactivated the system before leaving it unsupervised to argue with Gossan?” Hornfels asked.
“I wasn’t thinking!” Slate threw their arms up in frustration. “I was just showing them how it worked and… Gossan just made me so mad, I just…”
“I see. And that’s why Gossan is currently being patched up right now.
“It wasn’t my fault.” Slate said stubbornly.
Hornfels sputtered. “Are you seriously trying to blame Quarry for this? Or are you pinning this all on Gossan? Because to me it seems like there may be a fair amount of responsibility to be passed around.”
“No, not… it wasn’t… this was…” Slate leaned back and grimaced. “I lost my temper, and I shouldn’t have dragged a hatchling into this. But that isn’t what I mean.”
“Then what?” Hornfels was trying to sound patient, but Slate could hear the annoyance creeping into their voice, along with a subtle quaver of worry.
“Feldspar,” Slate said, and their shoulders sagged. “Gossan said it was… but it wasn’t. It wasn’t my fault. We know that ship was working fine for weeks before Felds stopped checking in. It wasn’t my fault. It can’t be my fault.”
Slate’s voice cracked and tears welled in their eyes. They finally met Hornfels’ gaze as the first tear fell.
“Tell me I didn’t kill my best friend,” Slate begged, their voice hardly more than an anguished whisper.
The irritation faded from Hornfels face, leaving only an aching sorrow. They looked so exhausted, Slate realized, navy bags heavy under their eyes, new lines of worry etched into their scales. Hornfels let out a slow breath and put an arm around Slate’s shoulders. Slate let them, sagging into their embrace.
“We don’t know what happened,” Hornfels said softly. “But you’re right that Feldspar didn’t report any malfunctions, and they love giving you shit over that.”
Hornfels was still talking about Feldspar in the present tense. Like they might still wander home someday. Like they weren’t dead. Slate’s gut twisted, but they didn’t have the heart to correct them. Hornfels had taken Feldspar’s disappearance as hard as the rest of the remaining Founders. If this was how they were coping, Slate wasn’t going to take that away from them. They turned their face into Hornfels’ shoulder to hide their tears.
“…Is Goss gonna be okay?” Slate mumbled into Hornfels’ shirt.
“Their upper left eye is too damaged to save, so Gneiss is going to stitch the eyelid closed and let it heal over. They also say the ear can’t be reattached, but otherwise they’ll make a full recovery,” Hornfels hesitated. Slate tensed, and Hornfels began gently rubbing their back. “With their depth perception off, they might not be safe to fly anymore. We won’t know until they’ve recovered some more, and then we can do some testing.”
That’s two pilots you’ve ruined.
The thought came unbidden and pierced Slate’s heart. Another tear sank into Hornfels' shirt.
“…I think it might help if you two sat down and talked. Calmly,” Hornfels said, their voice gentle.
Slate pulled sharply away and rose to their feet, wiping their face with the back of their arm.
“Nah,” Slate said, trying and failing to sound unconcerned. “…Might be better if we never talk again after this, actually. Goss may be right about some things.”
They turned on their heel and walked away.
“Slate, wait!” Hornfels called after them, but Slate didn’t look back, walking out of the clearing and into the trees.
I really do destroy everyone around me.