Chapter Text
You are dead for the last time.
Memory rushes to you in glowing purple threads that latch themselves to the fibers of your brain. A surge of flashing lights, images from another timeline, run fresh through your mind. In a powerful feat of Nomai engineering, the code integrates seamlessly with the rest of your thoughts.
Here is what you remember.
—
You wake up.
Slate is still on the log, idly poking at the fire with a stick. You throw yourself from your sleeping bag and stand in front of them. Your shadow on the rock looms above you both.
“I’m in a time loop,” you announce.
Slate blinks at you. Then, the corner of their lip turns up in a smirk.
“No, I’m serious. I can prove it,” you say.
“You have a bad dream or something?” Slate chuckles.
The next part you’ve rehearsed at least a hundred times, to the point that it comes out almost too coolly. “I don’t have a lot of time for this, but I’ll prove it right now. I have the launch codes.” You walk up to the control panel in the elevator and input the codes, which have become ingrained into muscle memory by now. The console whirs to life. “Your first thought is, hey, how’d you get those if you haven’t even talked to Hornfels?”
Slate opens their mouth, but you talk right over them.
“Then you think, is this some kind of weird launch-day prank? Did Gabbro set you up for this? Which, no, they didn’t, although they are involved in this—I’ll explain that later—because the point is that in twenty-two minutes, at the end of this time loop, the sun will explode and immediately kill everyone in the solar system, including me and you. But I have a solution to save everybody. I need your help to gather everyone on Timber Hearth and wait for rescue.”
Slate takes a moment to think on this. Exactly seventeen seconds.
“You’re lucky I don’t have you grounded for medical reasons,” you both say at the same time. Your tone is a high-pitched mockery of theirs. Their face twists into a confused frown. “Okay, you’re freaking me out now,” you both say again.
“We don’t have time for this,” you say, staring up at the stars flickering above you. You bounce on your toes a little to shake out the nerves.
Slate lets out a puff of air. “Alright, fine. Let’s say I believe you. This type of thing seems a little elaborate to be a prank, anyhow. What, exactly, do you want me to do?”
You can’t help it. Every time you get it right, you crack a little smile. You extend a hand out to them.
“C’mon, let’s walk and talk. Can you round up everyone in the village and have them gather at the bottom of the elevator?” you ask. “And ask Hornfels to radio Chert. Have them say there’s been dangerously increased solar activity, and Chert should return to Timber Hearth right now. Those words exactly. Then I’ll have Gabbro and Riebeck come pick you up soon.” You steer Slate towards Mica up on the hill and pat them on the back. “Cool? Cool. I’m going to get Gossan.”
“Pff, alright,” Slate says. “You’d better not be messing with me, though, or I’ll have your head on a marshmallow stick, I’m serious.”
You roll your eyes and wave a hand at them behind you. That’s one part of the plan done, at least. You hurry down the path towards the Zero-G cave for the next step.
As you run through the village, blowing past Porphy stirring their pot and Rutile grouching in their chair and Gneiss plucking out stray notes, you catch sight of the central geyser shooting out a jet of cool water. The mist glistens in the sunlight and lands on your skin in a fine rain. For a moment you think about how much you will miss that feeling. Before this, you had spent the last few loops just wandering around the village, pretending like you still lived here. You helped Marl carry piles of lumber, played hide and seek with Tephra and Galena, repaired that old mining tool in the cave, whittled sticks ready for marshmallow roasting. Of course, every time, the fiery blue ball of light would come roaring back to undo everything and everyone, but it was nice to imagine it. Imagine life, one last time, on Timber Hearth.
Your loops for reminiscing on the pine trees and the geyser mist are over, though. You shake your head free of those sentimental feelings and march up to the Zero-G cave.
Gossan is harder to convince than Slate, but you’ve devised a strategy. First, you ask them to think of a number, any number—the answer is three hundred and six, for some reason. Then you guess a bottle cap flip correctly five times in a row. Finally, you guess their most closely guarded secret, which is that they cheated at their sap wine ceremony and privately threw up the night’s contents in a bush behind the waterfall cabin. (Nobody else knows this. Not even Feldspar.)
By now, they’re willing to come with you on your ship. You ride the elevator up in silence and enter the ship and Gossan watches you lift off with ease, almost as if you’d done it about twenty-four thousand times by now. You take them to Brittle Hollow and touch down at an opening in the planet’s blue crust. Below you, the black hole thrums, swallowing everything in its familiar hunger.
“We’re getting Riebeck, then getting half the villagers back home.” you explain, swivelling back in the cockpit seat. “I needed you to pilot their ship because we’re going to Dark Bramble.”
“Dark Bramble?” Gossan asks. Their voice is unusually quiet.
“I know it sounds daunting, that no Hearthian has ever been there before. But I have. I’ve mapped out the layout pretty extensively to find the fastest route to the Vessel. I’ve flown through it so many times, I could probably do it with my eyes closed.”
“Do I get a proper explanation for any of this, or am I just going to have to guess?” they mutter.
Through the glass, you gaze out at the Hourglass Twins passing in front of the sun. By this point the sand is siphoning off Ash Twin heavily now. “Soon.”
You pop out the hatch and drop down onto the dark rocky surface. Your own breathing is metallic and hollow in your ears. With a shaking finger on the controller, you boost over to Riebeck’s camp, following the warm notes of their banjo. You slingshot over the black hole and catch yourself in the gravity well and sprint towards their fire with quick taps to your thrusters. You slide up in front of them fast enough to make the trees sway and the fire billow. Startled, Riebeck fumbles their next note with an off-key twang.
“Oh, stars!” they gasp.
“Hi, Riebeck. Yes, it’s me. I finally launched and all that. Brittle Hollow’s great, lots of history here,” you say, waving a blasé hand. “Listen, you’ve got to come back to the surface with me right now. Gossan’s with me on my ship, and they’ve gotta pilot yours because I know there’s no way you’re going to fly through Dark Bramble to get to the Vessel.”
“Um… what?” Riebeck mutters. “I’m sorry, I think I’m a bit confused… Gossan’s here? And Dark… Dark Bramble?”
You tug at their arm to get them to stand. “Let’s just say I’m gonna show you a really cool piece of Nomai tech soon. But if you don’t come now, it’ll vanish,” you say. “Follow me.”
Getting Riebeck back to the surface is one of the trickiest parts of the plan. They absolutely refuse to use their jetpack over the black hole, and they’re slow getting up the gravity crystal wall. You tell them they can close their eyes and you’ll guide them along the path, but about halfway through they realize that navigating vertically up a wall above a giant singularity is even scarier blind. And, of course, the random explosions of pyroclastic debris bombarding the planet do absolutely nothing to help their poor heart. You have to let them stop to hyperventilate a couple of times. You try to teach them Gabbro’s calming breathing technique, but they’re hearing none of it. It always hurts to hear their frantic gasps for air, knowing how frightening it is for them, but you also know you have no other choice if you want to save them. So up you climb, little by little, until you reach the top.
You help them out of the gravity crystal workshop and look south. “It’s a straight shot back to your ship from here,” you tell them. “I’ll have Gossan meet you there. Watch out for the meteors, too.”
“O-okay…” they mumble. They start to trudge towards the south pole.
“Hurry,” you urge, and they pick up the pace.
You boost back to your own ship. Gossan is still inside, rummaging through your spare equipment.
“You’ve really got to be more organized,” Gossan comments.
“Sorry. In my defense, Slate was the last one in here messing with stuff,” you say. “Take anything you want.”
Once Gossan has gotten suited up, you relay the rest of the plan.
“Once you get back to Timber Hearth with Riebeck, go back to the launch pad. The rest of the villagers should be waiting for you by now. Take half of them—it’ll be a tight squeeze, but it should work—and Gabbro will take the other half. Don’t forget to swing by the crater to grab Tektite and the moon for Esker,” you instruct. “From there, follow Gabbro through Dark Bramble. Space acts pretty weird in there, and there’s anglerfish, but they’re blind, so just be gentle with the thrusters. There will be a big ship. That’ll be our way out of here.”
“Got it,” says Gossan. “Timber Hearth, Dark Bramble, get Tektite and Esker, follow Gabbro, easy on the thrusters, big ship. Is there anything else I need to know?”
You smile. “Nope, that’s it.”
Without thinking, you grab them in a hug. Slowly, they wrap their arms around you, too.
“Thank you for trusting me, Gossan,” you whisper. “I promise, this will work. And if it doesn’t, then I’ll just keep trying until it does. We’re going to be okay.”
Gossan pats you on the shoulder. Past the reflection of their helmet, you can see a faint, crooked smile. “Look at me, taking orders from you now. You really aren’t the same person I saw yesterday, are you.”
Sometimes you forget that in their mind, no time has passed at all. Only hours ago, they’d wished their newest trainee good luck on their first solo flight, expecting nothing more than perhaps a quick jaunt to the Attlerock to test out the translator. What was an entire year of discovery and horror for you was absolutely nothing for them. They wave goodbye and drop down from the hatch. You buckle up again and blast off for the Twins.
By this point in the loop, enough of the sand has transferred off Ash Twin that the double towers are now fully exposed. The sun beats down behind you, angry and hot and threatening to burst. You gingerly land your ship by the equator, careful to only bounce one or two times, before hopping out and boosting towards the Ash Twin warp tower. You hide under the nearby ledge until the massive column of sand roars its way to you. Steeling yourself, you jump forward.
For a moment, you are turned inside out. Your atoms are individually stretched and threaded through the singularity and then reconstructed perfectly in an instantaneous flash. Around you, the planet’s core churns, its twinkling star-like shell spinning in a dizzying never-ending loop. Looking up, you see the casing for the Advanced Warp Core, whirling tantalizingly right above your head.
You will return for it in the next loop. For now, you head back through the warp pad and return to your ship.
Your next stop is Giant’s Deep. You switch on the autopilot and recline back in your seat as you watch the haloed green gas giant draw closer and closer. You turn on the signalscope and listen for the comforting baritone of Gabbro’s flute. Pinpointing their island, you descend below the thick cloud layer and swing your ship towards it.
Gabbro and their hammock are in their usual spot, swaying in the pouring rain. You maneuver the ship between the trees right in front of them. They don’t seem to react to the fiery jets that rock their hammock violently.
You pop out and stand next to the gravity well, jerking a thumb towards it. “It’s go time.”
“I was just getting comfortable,” they lament, dragging themself to their feet.
“You still set up the hammock?” you ask with a hand on your hip.
“I had some time.”
You both clamber inside and take off. You fly in methodical circles above the roiling surface of the ocean, in search of Gabbro’s lonely floating ship. While you scan the water and dodge the cyclones, Gabbro takes the time to resume their flute-playing.
“You remember what to do?” you say.
“Yep, yep. Timber Hearth, then to the Vessel,” they reply. “It’s not too late to change to the Stranger, just saying. Fewer fish. Or… y’know, you could just go to the Vessel by yourself.”
“We already talked about this. We’re taking everyone to the Gloaming Galaxy,” you huff. “Everyone that we can.”
“Right.” The flute lets out a long, lazy note.
You catch it drifting near the base of the north pole cyclone. Their ship looks almost identical to yours, which you think they might find some philosophical meaning in that you can’t discern right now. You hover right above it. Gabbro stashes their flute and stands above the exit hatch.
“See you soon, buddy.” They salute, then drop down.
You see their lean form make a graceful splash into the dark sea below. Once you confirm they’ve grabbed onto the ship, you turn around and soar back up through the clouds.
Finally, you will make one more stop: Feldspar’s camp. You lock your ship onto Dark Bramble and flex your fingers above the controls. Despite countless runs through the hazy fog and Hearth-knows-how-many deaths at the jaws of the anglerfish, you still can’t help but feel your nerves twitching on end at the sight of the bramble’s opening. Just because you’re used to it doesn’t mean dying doesn’t still hurt. And when the time comes on the next loop, on the one life that matters, you won’t be able to afford any mistakes.
You don’t need to anymore, but as you begin your tense drift through the fog, you still flick on the ship’s signalscope to listen for Feldspar’s harmonica. The music beats the guttural breathing of the anglerfish in your ears, at least. You hold your breath out of instinct and drift slowly through the opening of the first inner node. Then, once cleared from any danger, you roll your sights onto the second, leftmost node, and shoot forward.
Through the knotted hole, you spot the dim light of Feldspar’s camp. Sickly and off-color, though alive pine trees greet you in the bones of the dead angler’s maw. A crackling fire and pulsing gravity crystal shine in the center of the grove. You guide your ship above the camp and drop down into the gravity field. As usual, Feldspar is relaxing against a log, harmonica pressed up to their helmet. They sit up when they see you.
“Whoa! Where’d you come from?” they say. “No one’s come here in… well, ever, actually.” They gesture around vaguely to the fog that surrounds you. “That makes you the second Hearthian to ever reach Dark Bramble—after me, of course. Well done!”
Gabbro is the third, you think. And at any moment now, Gossan will be the fourth, along with all of the other Hearthians who currently exist. Still, you’ll always take some pride in the distinction of being number two. You approach Feldspar to let them see past the golden sheen of your helmet. They squint and lean closer, then pat their knee.
“Say, it’s you!” they exclaim. “They made you an astronaut? And you haven’t blown yourself up yet, good for you!”
“Yeah, ha ha,” you laugh awkwardly. “I’m pretty good now. I saw your ship is fried. Let me guess: anglerfish?”
“Heh, got it in one,” they chuckle. “Kind of hard not to, once you’ve seen one of those fish all up close and personal-like.”
“No kidding.” You pace around the fire, absentmindedly gathering up the rations and marshmallow tins they’ve left strewn about. “I found their nest.”
“A nest? So that’s where the blasted things come from, is it?” Feldspar mutters as they climb to their feet. “Stars above, if I still had a working ship, I’d be sorely tempted to go show ‘em what’s what.” They stare up at the blinking blue light of their craft in the distance. Their shoulders droop as they let out a sigh.
“Hey, I know your ship is busted, but mine still works just fine,” you suggest coyly. “We could go check it out right now. How long have you just been sitting around here, anyway?”
“Too long, that’s for sure. I like your spirit, hatchling!” You can hear the grin in their voice.
With no hesitation, they jump up to your floating ship in the trees, pry open the hatch in one swoop, and swing inside. Fortunately for you, they don’t need any urging to get going on a new adventure.
“Alright, show me what you’ve got, little buddy,” Feldspar says as you settle down into the cockpit.
You grip the controls tightly and fly out of this node. Feldspar leans against the wall next to you, making no effort to hold on even as the ship tilts towards the glowing red light in the distance.
You flip the signalscope back on and, to your relief, pick up the Travelers melody coming from the nest’s direction. Though hesitant, muted, you catch Riebeck’s banjo, Chert’s drums, and pips of Esker’s whistling. Thank the stars, the plan is working. Feldspar takes the opportunity to join in on their harmonica. You sit back and let a heavy sigh escape your chest.
“What’s with the music?” Feldspar asks between notes.
“Um, we’re doing something all together,” you answer, hesitant. It’s vague, but you really have no idea how to explain it in the little time you have left.
“What d’ya mean, ‘we’?”
“Like, everyone. Everyone from Timber Hearth. Don’t worry about what they’ll think of you right now. We have bigger things to worry about at the moment.”
“You’re not telling me something. You know I don’t like that one bit.”
Before Feldspar can say any more, you pass through the red mist of the nest node. Three lights, connected to three hungry anglerfish, wait for you right at the entrance. You instantly release all controls and shove yourself backwards. Feldspar gasps.
“You don’t say,” they whisper.
The heaving, wet breath of the anglerfish echoing in your ears is deafening, seeming to even drown out the music coming from the signalscope feed. Their long incisors glisten with saliva and condensation in the wan light. Feldspar leans out, helmet pressed against the cockpit window.
“Can’t they see us?” they wonder.
“They’re blind,” you say.
“A-ha. So the blasted things do have a weakness.”
The sound of growling subsides as your ship passes carefully behind the deadly trio of anglers. Once the danger has passed, you lay on the thrusters again, following the signalscope through a hidden node—the Vessel’s node. The silhouette emerges first, then sharpens into the gleaming white body of the Nomai craft.
Feldspar leans out even further. Their body partially obscures your view. “What on Hearth…”
“It’s called the Vessel. I found it while I was exploring Dark Bramble,” you say. This, at least, is true, and easily explained.
“Hatchling, this is amazing.” You’ve never heard their voice sound so quiet, so reverent. “It’s massive. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
You spy Gabbro’s and Riebeck’s ships parked at the broken opening. You guide your own craft next to theirs, then snatch the trough of little green plants sitting next to the control panel and head to the hatch.
“Follow me,” you tell Feldspar.
“Bringing some little friends?” they ask with their head cocked to the side.
You ignore them and drop down. You float over to the port of Riebeck’s ship and give it a few short raps with your knuckle. The hinge swings open, revealing Gossan and Riebeck and the dozens of eyes of huddled villagers locked squarely onto you and Feldspar.
You hold the plant up. “There are trees inside, but there’s a short spacewalk through the hallway first. There’s no air, and not everyone has spacesuits, so we have to use these for oxygen. Riebeck, you have one too, right?”
“Um, yes,” Riebeck answers. They slide past Spinel and Tektite to grab a handful of plants on their own shelf. Luckily, due to their prior fears of suffocating to death in their own ship, there are plenty of saplings to go around.
Gossan’s three eyes focus on Feldspar. They kneel down at the opening in disbelief. The pilot beside you, suddenly unusually shy, slinks out of view. Gossan opens their mouth, then clamps it shut in a thin line.
Tephra is the first to speak. “Feldspar!” they exclaim, shaking a stunned Galena beside them. “You’re taking us on a real spacewalk?!”
“Oh, no. No, no no.” Tuff’s adamant voice rings out from behind Rutile and Marl. “I am not going on a zero-G walk. You can’t make me. I’d rather stay here and die.”
“You’re going,” you snap, and that’s final. You refuse to let anyone die, anyone within your power. You push off the rim of the hatch and glide over to Gabbro’s ship.
Gabbro flips open the door before you can even knock. They slide out head-first with their own potted plant in hand.
“Lead the way,” they say.
Inside the cabin, you spot Hal staring at you. Their expression is controlled into a neutral, flat state, different from their usual resting smile. You feel a pang of guilt pinch your heart as you watch Chert take their hand and guide them out of the ship after Gabbro. You try to shake their gaze from your mind, then leave, too.
The villagers are all crowded together, joined at the hands around the plants, as you drift silently down the Vessel’s corridors. The skeletal remains of the Nomai float around you, almost watching you. You push along the walls until you reach the main hall, where the room opens up into spiraling bridges and panoramic glass and the ominous central housing for an Advanced Warp Core. Everyone releases a collective breath as the air suffuses with oxygen once more.
You made it. If you had the core now, you would be safe, alive, free from the supernova with your family.
You feel the pressure of a hand on your shoulder. Whirling around, you come helmet-to-face with Hal.
“Can you tell us what’s going on?” they ask.
Hal, of course. Hal is here. Your best friend, the real, physical Hal, is here with you, on the Vessel. Hal, still with their bag, wearing their favorite orange bandanna, still with the distinct splotches on their scales, is drifting through space with you. Not trapped in the museum. Soon to be free of the loop. Finally, you’re getting them back.
You pull off your helmet to get a better look at them, to confirm that this is real. Your faces are so close together that your noses almost touch. Then, you squeeze your eyes shut and wrap them in a hug.
“Hal,” you breathe into their shoulder. “It’s almost over.”
A distant boom shudders the Vessel walls and causes Hal to flinch. The other Hearthians floating beside you glance around for the source of the explosion. Gabbro nods their head at you, doing a slow spin in the air.
You press your body to Hal’s tighter. You bury your face into the crook of their neck. The low roaring intensifies, both in volume and pitch.
“I’m sorry. I’ll come back for you, I promise. I promise,” you murmur.
“I’m scared,” Hal whispers. “I don’t understand.”
“No, no, no, don’t be scared,” you cry softly. “Please, don’t look. Don’t be scared. I love you.”
The thundering roar of the supernova drowns out all other sound. You feel the vibration all the way down to the spaces between your molecules. The searing white light pierces through your eyelids, through your clothing, through your skin, burning through your entire body until you become nothing at all.
—
You wake up.