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How do you lose a worm a quarter of a mile long?
You’d think it’d be easy to find something that big, but no. Why not use the GPS tracker on it? Because, obviously, the geniuses who’d taken it out for a little spin had disabled the thing to hide their tracks.
Surely, though, a massive governmental power like the One Concern had satellites that could see something that big from space? Right? Wrong. There were blind spots all over the map where communication had gone down, either due to neglect or sabotage, and they just didn’t have the manpower to fix it. Especially in places where nobody lived, like the ever-encroaching Wasteland. Sure, now they were trying, now that it actually mattered, but they only had so many mechanics, so many materials, and the pirates harassed them day and night.
What about using helicopters to search the land? Great idea, except the worm could be literally anywhere, they only had so many helicopters and so much fuel, and the choppers were already being used to patrol more populated territories where eyes in the skies were necessary to keep dissenters under control, now that their number one means of aerial surveillance was gone.
So. What was left after all that?
“Agent Black, Agent Grey, the two of you will be visiting settlements 20 through 40. Interrogate the locals, find out if any of them know anything about the Starworm’s location. Lock them in their houses if they do and we’ll deal with them later. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you how imperative it is that they do not realize its absence.”
Grey snatches the keys from the officer’s hand, spinning them around their finger with a grin. “We won’t let you down.”
“It’ll be a nice change of pace, right? Getting out of the office?”
Grey just gets a grunt in return, Black sitting with her cheek propped in her hand as Grey drives them down the foggy, gravel-strewn highway. It didn’t snow nearly as much as it used to, the ascent nearly perpetually shrouded in rain and fog. It made it easier to drive, but Grey had heard murmurings of concern from the environmental engineers for years, now.
Grey keeps having to slow to avoid rocks that had tumbled from the slopes above, the entire armored camper creaking and protesting as they fought to control its bulk. It was only due to their shared seniority that they’d been able to argue for something this comfortable, even if the camper was a good three or four decades old; the other Agents would be sleeping in the backs of their trucks.
“We’ll get to spend more time together,” Grey adds. “I mean, yeah, we’re working, but… It’s something. We won’t have anybody breathing down our necks for once. Just the two of us.”
Black glances over, and Grey smiles at her. Maybe a little too warmly; shouldn’t they be worried right now? Was that what Black expected to see? They look away again, back at the road. “They must really be desperate, huh?”
The barest hint of smile tugs at the corner of Black’s mouth. “Yeah.”
They drive on in silence for a few minutes, until Grey speaks up again. “I remember taking a trip like this once, with my older brother and his friends. I was pretty young, so it probably wasn’t more than a couple hours… We stopped at a diner for coffee. I really don’t remember much else, but… we should do that. When was the last time any of us did something like that?”
“I don’t know.” Black stares ahead out of the windshield, out at the fog and the bare, black trees. “I can’t remember the last time I did anything at all.”
“…let’s do it, then.”
“Alright.”
It had started with a line in a book. Grey had never been one to study scripture, but with all the uneasy feelings writhing in their chest these days, they’d hoped something in it would soothe them. Agents were supposed to be pious, but what were any of them supposed to believe in anymore when their god was the plaything of a bunch of selfish children? Was there some truth to be found before the era of the Starworm?
The scriptures spoke of an Ivory man who could heal those he laid hands on. Grey had never heard of an Agent who could heal, and if Mother had such abilities, Grey had never seen her use them.
They wondered.
Among the many things cluttering their desk was a potted plant with large, diamond-shaped leaves, dark blue and glossy. Grey had slid it close to themselves, torn a small notch in one of them, and focused, felt the flow of ivory within its veins. When they took their hand away, they thought the notch was just a tiny bit smaller.
Grey continued to practice in secret, first on plants, then on lab mice they brought home. It was still far too risky to try it on humans, though. Not for the safety of whoever they were healing; they’d never harmed something by accident, but when they’d watched flesh knit back together before their eyes, it had reminded them sickeningly of what Mother could do, manipulating the ivory in the body, reshaping it. Except in her case, it was drawn out violently; before the person could even collapse into dust they fell to gory pieces.
Harboring these the sinful thoughts, it was much too great a power to make known. They’d become a liability just for existing. Not even Black knew about it.
Black, who tolerated others at best, but would seek Grey out just to sit with them. Black, who would always reply to their friendly teasing with some dry remark. Black, who’d asked to spend her precious free time with them, even if it was just to sit at some restaurant and complain about the prices on the menu. Grey treasured those little moments.
They wanted to trust her. More than anything else in the world, Grey wanted to share this gift. But keeping secrets was a sin.
Black was a good Agent. Perhaps the best of them.
You didn’t last this long for no reason.
“Is it as good as you remember?”
Grey shrugs, raising the chipped mug to their lips again. “I really don’t remember what the coffee tasted like. Probably better than this, though.”
“Not even the Concern offices have real beans anymore.” Black stares out the window at the parking lot of the diner, rain filling the pot holes, turning them into greasy puddles. The diner is close to one of their outposts along the border of the Wasteland, so the only other people occupying it are a gaggle of soldier kids, none of whom have done anything but throw nervous glances their way the entire time. The edges of the resin tabletop are chipped, dust gathered in the corners of the room, dust on the filmy light fixtures, on the fake plants. Dust everywhere when you were this close to the wastes.
“You want to order something?”
“No.”
“C’mon, Black. I never see you eat anything these days.” Grey smiles, hoping the statement comes across more lighthearted than they feel. Black would die before she allowed anybody to worry about her eating habits. Better to be pragmatic about it. “We’ve still got a lot of driving to do. You need to keep yourself energized somehow.”
“…fine,” Black grumbles. “Just get me some eggs.”
“We’re out,” the cook calls from the back.
“You guys got anything at all?” Grey asks. “We’re not picky.”
“We got soy burgers… Some hash browns…”
“You had a brother?” Black speaks up over the cook’s droning, chin resting in her hand. Had, because, of course, there was no way any of their family at the time was still alive. “Can’t remember you ever talking about him before.”
That was because Grey hadn’t thought about him in a very long time. Not since their transcendence. The sting of his absence had long since faded, but they still remembered sitting in the back seat of his van, dozing in the warmth of the heater as he drove them home from a place that probably didn’t exist any longer. They never did see him again, never got to ask why he left the sanctuary of City One. Maybe it was him they had to thank for all of this, sitting at this greasy booth with Black, who’s looking at them with her brow furrowed in concern.
“…we weren’t close,” Grey says with a little shrug. “Hash browns sound good to you?”
Each settlement they drive past looks sadder than the last as the numbers tick up. Those closest to City One were maintained well enough, clean and populated, but as they move further outward, cracks begin to show. Many houses stand vacant or demolished by the Penance, Community Centers darkened, their windows boarded up to prevent theft. Vast dirt fields line the road, nobody assigned to plant them.
More than anything, Grey was struck by how little either of them had actually been away from work the past few… decades, probably. It wasn’t something they actively thought about; Black was always kept busy, and Grey was rarely sent on assignments beyond Settlement 3. While they’d been stuck in their routine, the world outside had changed.
On the way, Black had occasionally spoken up, pointing out landmarks she remembered. They finally finished building this bridge. That communication tower never used to be so overgrown. I got in a shootout at that supply depot once. But for the last few hours she’d been silent, seemingly lost in thought. They’re getting close to the base of the mountain when she finally speaks up, pointing at a sign looming out of the dusk that indicated the road into Settlement 8. “Let’s stop here.”
It’s not the first stop they’d made; since setting out from One Concern West, they’d occasionally gotten out to switch drivers, stretch, check their position. The last long rest had been at Settlement 4. There they’d waited out a thunderstorm, slept in their seats because the heaters didn’t work in the back of the camper. Grey pulls the camper off the highway onto the dirt path that led to the settlement. While still elevated enough to be considered part of the Ascent, it’s cool and green rather than snowy, hemmed in by pines on all sides and encircled by a partially-frozen creek. Grey parks alongside a small fleet of logging trucks. “You want to take a walk before it gets totally dark? Stretch our legs a little?” they offer.
Black is staring out the window. The question seems to break her focus, snapping her out of the light daze she’d been in. “Uh- yeah. That sounds good.”
“Everything alright?”
“…yeah.”
The air is crisp, carrying the faint sweetness of the pines and the damp scent of the creek. The pair of them are regarded warily by a group of loggers who’ve set up a firepit at the edge of town, blue smoke coiling up from the flames, the men’s eyes glinting from within the depths of their parka collars.
“Take it easy, we’re just passing through,” Grey tells them. “No one’s in trouble today.” Their attempt at a lighthearted joke. It doesn’t get them so much as a scoff. Oh well.
They both follow the muddy curve of the creek, the sun sinking lower until it’s just a glittering streak between the trees. “You’ve been awfully quiet,” Grey says, stepping over a fallen sapling. “Something on your mind?”
Black nods, still looking dead ahead. “Yes, I… I remember this place. I think I lived here.”
“Oh, yeah?” Grey feels like that’s kind of a lame response as soon as it leaves their mouth, but to be honest, sometimes it was hard to imagine Black as having come from a Settlement. Hard to imagine her having been a normal human once. She’d been around longer than any other Agent. Almost as eternal as Mother.
“I remember all the trees, and the… there used to be a whole river, but they must have diverted it when the logging started. My old house…” She trails off, picking up the pace of her stride through the brush. Grey follows her across a shallow section of the creek. Amid the narrower new-growth trees sit pentagonal stumps wider than Grey’s arm-span, blackened with age and encrusted with patchwork quilts of mosses and lichens. Black leads them to a rocky slope, the bulk of the mountain looming high above them, blotting out the first stars of early evening.
There had been a house here at one point, gray chunks of concrete nearly swallowed by the woody tendrils of a tree that had long grown through its foundation, crumbled and scattered it. The tree itself is gone too, nothing left but its enormous stump and its dead, grasping roots. Black pauses in what would have been the threshold, arms wrapped around herself. “…this is where I was born.”
They’ve been to 17 of the 20 settlements they were assigned to visit. Not a single one has yielded even the smallest amount of useful information.
They’re waiting for daylight in the skeletal ruins of an ivory-mining facility, parked in the lot behind the bowed legs of an old water tower. Black hasn’t gotten into bed yet, sitting on the cushioned bench next to the camper’s window. Moonlight spills across her pale face.
“This is it, Grey,” she says, though her gaze remains distant. Grey peers out at her from their bunk, sliding their hearing aid back into their ear.
“What is?”
“This mission is my last chance.” Black sighs, letting her eyes slip shut, arms folded over her stomach. “I’ve known it for a long time. Seen it happen to other Agents. They’ve been keeping me inside, keeping me busy while they figure out what to do with me. And now they’ve made up their minds.”
Grey is quiet, chin resting on their folded arms.
“…I hate this job.” Black continues. “I hate these people, and they know it. I used to believe I was doing this for a reason, but that was a long time ago. They’ve done nothing for me but ruin my life, made me watch as everybody I ever cared about died around me.” She pauses, chest rising and falling in a deep sigh. “I’ve been here too long. I still remember how things used to be, and they can’t have that. If I don’t return with anything to show for it, they’re going to take me out back and shoot me like a lame horse. That’ll be it. Almost three hundred years of service and that’s what I get.”
Grey climbs out of bed, sitting gingerly on the bench next to her. Black doesn’t move, but she doesn’t edge away either, eyes opening a crack to look at the other Agent.
“I hope they never find their fucking worm,” she murmurs. “If I ever see that thing again, I’m going to blow it up myself.”
Grey can’t help the laugh that bubbles up out of their throat, even though it comes out as more of a cracked half-sob at the end. Did… did they hear that right? It takes a second to fully hit, sinking in like a punch to the gut. They’d spent countless nights struggling to fall asleep, second-guessing their interactions with everyone, including the person they were closest to, wondering if they’d be sold out. Wondering if they’d end up a pile of giblets at Mother’s feet by the end of the year… And Black wanted to blow up the worm? “What?”
Black sits up, wincing. “What kind of noise was that?”
“Nothing, nothing, it’s just…” Grey wipes the back of their hand across their watering eyes. If their blood was red they’d be as flushed as a tomato right now. “I’d blow the stupid worm up too.”
Black doesn’t seem surprised, her already-furrowed brows knitting further in concern. Maybe Grey wasn’t as subtle as they always thought they were.
“I feel like such an idiot.” Grey smiles through their tears, lifting a fistful of their tank top to wipe their face. “I was just so worried that… that someone would find out. That you would find out, and you… I don’t know.” They sniff wetly. Their shoulder brushes hers, chilly metal on their warm skin. “I don’t know what we’re doing anymore. Mother’s going to kill both of us.”
“I won’t let that happen.” Black’s hands find one of Grey’s, wrapping them in cool metal. “I’ll tear her to pieces before I let her touch you.”
Grey leans in, burying their face in Black’s fluffy, unkempt hair, lips pressed to her forehead, free hand cupping back of her neck. Warmth blossoms at the point of contact, spreads up their cheeks, a faint white light glowing pink through their closed eyelids. When they pull back, Black is looking at them wide-eyed, her face blank. Moonlight glints in her reddish irises.
“…I’m sorry,” Grey exhales shakily, exhilaration slowly replaced with nausea. “I shouldn’t…”
“Grey,” Black whispers. “What did you do?”
“I’ve been… practicing,” Grey swallows. “Healing. It’s… I can do that.”
Black grabs them by the upper arms, pulling them in. “Do it again,” she whispers, breathless.
This time, it’s her lips they kiss, her arms wrapped around their back, crushing them close, fingers tearing holes in their cheap nightshirt. This time the warmth spreads far beyond their mouth and face, filling their throat, their chest, their stomach, every part of them. They feel wetness on their cheeks, the damp tickle of Black’s eyelashes against their skin.
“It’s gone,” she says, her voice thick with relief and sorrow. “Grey… It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Eventually, Black’s headache does creep back in, but Grey is more than pleased to soothe it again, as many times as she wants.
It won’t be this easy when they’re back at the Concern offices. Black knows she’ll live, at least for a little while, but it’ll be hard to go back to that bitter medication knowing how much better she could have it.
They’ll manage. They’re already risking so much. What’s a little more comfort before the inevitable?
Settlement 39 teeters on the edge of the Wasteland. Clouds of dust billow around Grey’s boots with every step they take, the grass disintegrating beneath their feet. It never used to be this bad, but with ivory being steadily drained from the crust, the waste is spreading like a stain.
“We’re investigating suspected pirate activity.” Black gives the same spiel they always do, standing in the doorway of one of the few occupied houses. Her typical pinched expression is replaced with one of more neutral boredom and irritation. Grey stands beside her, holding a notepad. It’s still blank. “Have you heard any unusual noises, seen unfamiliar people, had items go missing…”
They’re both expecting more of the same, more averted eyes, murmuring that no, no we haven’t heard anything, everything’s been business as usual. People often ask when the Concern will be supplying more ivory, or sending mechanics out to fix the town’s water purifier, or delivering more rations. Others rat on their neighbors, telling them So-and-So has been fooling around with her car’s engine, or hoarding supplies. Grey has to tell them that’s not their department, that aid will be coming soon, even though neither of them knows anything for sure.
The man standing in his doorway (middle-aged, leathery, salt and pepper hair as dusty as the rest of the places) makes a show of raising a knuckle to his chin, thoughtful. “You know… I actually did hear somethin’ odd a couple weeks ago. Big boom, way out in the desert. Think it came from the direction of the canyon…”
Grey sees Black’s shoulders go stiff, the quiet creak of her balling her fingers into fists. “Please. Elaborate.”
“Musta been miles out, but you know how sound travels across the empty,” the man goes on. “One big boom, ‘n then another, like a whole buncha rocks fallin’… Figured they were testin’ new weapons out there, but I ain’t heard anything since.”
“Is that everything?” Black asks as Grey takes down the man’s statement.
He hesitates, clicking his tongue. “Well… Funny you all stopped by when you did. Couple days ago we had another fella like you come around, only he had a buncha other folks with ‘im. Came askin’ us if we were followers of the True God.”
Grey’s glad they’re the one holding the pen; by the way Black’s voice subtly shakes, she would have surely snapped it in half right about now. “What do you mean, like us?”
“Y’know. One’a you blessed folks. Had artificial legs.”
“That’ll be all, thank you for your time, sir.” Grey smiles at the man as they tuck the clipboard under their arm and step forward, grasping his head and twisting his neck with a sharp crack. He slumps in their arms as they lay him on the floor and close the door softly behind them.
Black turns and stalks a short distance away, kicking a plastic bottle crate so hard that it sails clear over the roof of the house across the lot. Grey watches with their hands on their hips as it disappears, landing somewhere unseen with a clattering sound.
“Grey. We have to leave right now,” Black says.
“I know.” Grey catches up with her, hands resting on her shoulders. “But we should at least finish talking to people. See if we can get any more leads about where we’re going. Make sure nobody’s left who heard anything.”
“If he finds it,” Black hisses. “He’s going to talk. He’s going to brag about it. People are going to find out where it is. The Concern is going to find out.” She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, laying one of her hands on top of Grey’s. “…you’re right, though. But I need you to do it. I’ll make sure the car is fueled. I just…” A sharp inhale as she clenches her teeth. “I can’t.”
“Okay.” Grey brings their arms around, hugging her from the back. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Thank you.”
They’ve gotten as clear an answer as they’re going to at this point. Their goal is the canyon, several days away. There used to be a river and a road running along it. At one time the Concern had a rail line that followed it as well, but it’s too dangerous to move supplies through the Wasteland now. The road is ill-maintained, crumbling, but it’s drivable if they’re careful. What’s left of the river is nothing but a cracked crust, the mud long dried up and hardened into jagged hexagons.
It's not safe to park for long, not with the risk of pirate ambush, so they agree to drive in shifts. “I can take the daytime,” Grey tells Black. “It’ll help me focus better.”
It’ll also be kinder on Black’s headache.
Black rests one hand on the steering wheel, watching the road ahead of her as she drives, slowing for cracks and bumps as they pop up beneath the headlights. The whole camper creaks and sways with every little dip in the pavement. Fortunately, Grey seems undisturbed by the movement. They’re sleeping in the passenger seat next to her, feet propped up on the dash, chair leaned back as they use their jacket as a pillow. Black glances over at them, the way the glow from the dashboard delicately highlights the curves of their face. Either of them could have taken a bunk in the back while the other drove, but they’d both silently decided to remain within arm’s reach.
There are no moons out tonight, but the stars fill the sky overhead. This feels like a moment from another life. The two of them on this trip together, no duty to fulfill, no Mother looming over them. The two of them and the stars and the desert, heading somewhere new and exciting. People used to take vacations with the ones they loved. Maybe this is as close as they’ll ever get, at least in this lifetime.
It’s late morning by the time they see it, the massive, bone-white shell looming out of the dust, canyon walls rising high into the brilliant blue sky on either side. There’s an ugly gash carved out of one of them where the worm’s hind end must have crashed into it, dragging down tons of rock as it fell.
That’s not all, either. As they roll in closer, passing segments of the worm’s great tail, they spot a number of jeeps and even a semi truck parked along it, sporting chunky all-terrain tires. Its purple Concern colors have been sloppily coated with silver spray paint.
They roll the camper to a stop, the two of them climbing out. Black storms over to the small crowd currently gathered around the fallen worm. “Chrome!” she shouts, her voice bouncing off the canyon walls as Grey steps up beside her, squinting in the hard sunlight.
The worm lies on its side, its head twisted around at what would be a grotesque angle if it had a neck to break. Something stirs on top of it.
“Well, well… If it isn’t my fated siblings, Agent Black and Agent Grey.”
Chrome stands with one booted foot propped up on the Starworm’s forehead, elbow resting on his bent knee as he smirks down at the two of them. He’s just as shirtless as Grey remembers him being, still wearing that dusty old cowboy hat. The rest of his posse regard the Agents coldly, about two dozen of them, mostly men of varying ages in ragged Concern armor, though Grey spots a few women in there as well, likely escapees from the Settlements.
“Come to bear witness to the corpse of your idol?” Chrome asks. “What will the One Concern do now that their kite has fallen from the sky?”
“What are you doing here, Chrome?” Black snarls.
“I’m seeing what there is to be seen, sister. Is it not enough to take in all the wonders the world has to offer? Who else in this vast existence of ours has claimed to have witnessed the body of God Himself, bloated and rotting out here in the sun like a roadkilled buckle?”
“Alright, let’s not get lost in the weeds.” Grey folds their arms, peering up at him. “I know it’s tempting to go around telling everybody how the Starworm is dead for real and you danced on His corpse, but… I think we can both imagine how bad of an idea that would be.”
“See now? There’s some civility.” Chrome tips his hat towards Grey. “But I’m afraid I’ve got to disagree with you. People shouldn’t be kept in the dark about the truth of the world. They’ll kick and scream, but eventually all children grow up. The lucky ones, anyway…”
“Chrome, if you go telling people where the worm is, they’re going to come out here,” Black says. “By any means necessary. They’re going to start fighting over the pieces of it, and it’s going to be a bloodbath. Is that what you want?”
Chrome tsks. “And letting the Concern get ahold of it would be any better? I suppose you think we’ll just let you waltz out of here to go tattle to them.”
“It’s you against the two of us.” Grey shrugs. “I don’t want to fight you. Are you willing to risk the lives of all your people just to stop us?”
“Are you willing to kill my people just to get the Concern their broken toy back?”
Black huffs, teeth gritted. “You know the answer to that already. I don’t care what bullshit sermons you want to give; as long as you don’t tell people where the worm is, we won’t have a problem. I won’t even tell the Concern I saw you here. We both know they’re not moving this thing any time soon, assuming they can move it at all.”
“My, Agent Black, how generous of you to not rush me and break my skull open on the hardpan.” Chrome grins at her. “I suppose you have a point, though. People are awfully prone to unruliness these days, and the Concern can’t get itself together long enough to fix a pothole, let alone move a one-hundred ton pile of junk.”
“Yeah, well.” Black shrugs a little. “You caught me in a good mood for once. I hate that we agree on something, but at least we agree.”
“Agent Black in a good mood? Now that is a miracle.” Chrome chuckles, head tilted down so the brim of his hat hides his eyes. “I understand, dear sister, why you in particular feel the truth needs to stay buried. But underground vermin spoil the fields, breed and fester under the surface. They are swallowed along with the blighted things that grow there. If you don’t cleanse them, they’ll eat you alive from the inside out. You,” He lazily waves his shotgun in Black’s direction. “Your bones have nearly been picked clean. Not even I could save you at this point.”
Grey expects Black to snap at him again, but she remains silent, scowling albeit in a way that reminds Grey of an animal backed up against a wall. It’s not a look they’ve seen on her face before. “Chrome,” Grey steps forward, despite knowing Black doesn’t need them to defend her, that she’s surely heard far worse. “That’s enough. What happened to all that talk about civility, huh?”
Chrome gives them a sheepish smile. “My apologies. Got a little carried away by my recollections, there. You oughta leave us now. We’re going to pray, and I doubt you’ve got time for that sort of thing. Won’t be sticking around here too much longer. Just remember,” he straightens up, spreading his arms. His followers mimic the gesture. “The truth will find a way into all the hearts and minds of the good people of this planet, whether I’m the one to share it or not.”
They don’t talk about it at first. Grey can still hardly believe it’s real, that the Starworm is dead, even having seen it with their own eyes. Nevermind considering the ripples this is already making, the tsunamis that will build outwards, churning the lives of all those who stood in its way if it didn’t crush them outright. They assume Black feels the same. They have to. She’s barely said a word since they turned around to leave the Wasteland.
Grey fills the dead airspace with the CDs they’d brought, only speaking up to comment on landmarks they hadn’t noticed on the drive in. The sun is sinking low in the sky again; they’ll have to switch drivers soon. Tomorrow they’ll be back in Concern territory, and it’ll be safe enough to stop sleeping in shifts.
They don’t want to try and rest with this on their mind, so they speak up. “Where are going once we’re out of here?”
“Where are we going?”
“We’re not going back, are we?” Grey asks. “If you’re positive your number’s up, we can’t just… go back to the Concern and tell them we didn’t find anything. That’s what you said.”
“…Grey.”
Grey tries to keep their eyes on the road, but they keep glancing over at her. “You were serious, right? When you said they’d kill you.”
“Yeah.”
“So. So we’re not going back.”
Black lets out a long sigh, eyes falling shut. “I never said that.”
“What?”
“…I’m sorry.” Black rubs a hand across her eyes. “We have to do this, Grey.”
“No, we don’t!” Grey brakes sharply to avoid a rock that’s tumbled into the road, the camper groaning in protest. “We can go anywhere we want! Who says we have to go back? Why would we?”
“Where would we go? Where is there to go? Everywhere’s either Concern or anti-Concern. I can’t… There’s no hiding what I am. Maybe you could pretend, but I can’t.” Black rests her face in her hands, curled up in the passenger seat. “I’m so tired. All of it just feels like I’m delaying the inevitable.”
“You said you’d tear Mother apart before she laid her hands on me,” Grey reminds her, grip tight on the steering wheel. “What happened to that?”
Black looks down like she’s been slapped, running both hands through her hair, which has been tousled by the breeze blowing in through her open window. “…what do you think we should do, then? Just keep running for the rest of our lives? That’s not protection. You deserve better than that.” She hunches her shoulders, fingers fisted at her scalp. “I’m the senior Agent here. They’ll blame me. You’ll be safe. That is how I can protect you. That’s the only way, otherwise we’ll just be looking over our shoulders until the planet breaks apart. They’re going to find that worm eventually, they’ll probably fix it, and… and things will go back to the way they were. But at least you’ll still be alive.”
“I don’t…” Grey rolls the camper to a bumpy stop. “That isn’t what I want.”
“I was ordered to keep humanity safe. That’s why we stole the Starworm in the first place. I was there.” Black’s voice trembles. “I helped them take it. But there’s no saving anybody anymore, not with the planet crumbling to dust right under our feet… I can save you, though. Let me have this, Grey. Let me have this one thing.”
Grey shakes their head a little in silent disbelief. After everything they’d been through, after seeing her face in the moonlight, tasting her tears on their lips as she cried in relief. They couldn’t just let her walk into her death. “I don’t need you to do this. We can figure something out-”
“What is there to figure out? We either go back or we don’t. Not going back will definitely get us hunted down and probably killed. Going back means there’s a chance they’ll leave you alone. Please.”
“Black, don’t…”
“Please, Grey. I’m so tired. My orders don’t matter anymore. You’re the one thing left in my life that still means anything to me. You cared about me, you helped me remember what it was like to live without pain.”
“Stop.” Grey snaps, furious tears stinging their eyes. They can’t stand to hear Black beg them like this. Black didn’t beg. “Just. Stop, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m tired. It’s your turn to drive.”
This time they take the bunk, leaving Black alone in the driver’s seat. There’s nothing to see but darkness beyond their window, so they bury their face in their damp pillow and will themselves to sleep.