Shade’s hand shielded his eyes from the bright light of the Great Star as he surveyed the jungle from the platform. He looked perfectly at home here, as though he could just as easily have been an archeologist, a naturalist, or an explorer instead of an engineer, navigator, and bounty hunter. He was even still tan from summertime on Albion 5, although life in the Dark was starting to chip away at that. There didn’t appear to be a drop of sweat on him, which just proved he was in his element. I was blazing hot and dripping.
He turned, lowering his hand. Finding me watching him, he smiled as he stepped onto the bridge. It jiggled under his weight, and I held on for dear life until he joined me. Shade gave me a peck on the lips before slipping past me, his hands skimming the weather-smoothed railings without really gripping them. When I didn’t immediately follow, he looked over his shoulder. “Come on, starshine. You can do it. One foot in front of the other.”
Cautiously, I trailed after him. The river rushed beneath us, a low and constant rumble. The long bridge bobbed and swayed, moving up and down and back and forth, which was frankly a little too much unpredictable movement for my liking. Shade slowed down so that I could just shuffle along behind him, absorbing sights and sounds I’d never imagined seeing even in my most vivid daydreams.
A pair of ice-blue birds with fancy white crests and four crimson-tipped wings swooped back and forth across the river, bringing bits and pieces to a large nest they were building. A smaller species crowded several entire trees, singing to each other from the branches, their calls operatic and their feathers an explosion of different shades that defied my knowledge of colors. On the opposite bank, not far from the rope ladder, a squat little creature with creamy-white fur and fuzzy ears clung to the side of a tree and tapped at a spiky purple pouch stuck to the bark. The orange stripe down its back matched the long nails it used to pound on the thorny ball like a hammer.
“An orange spearback,” Shade said quietly, nodding toward the animal in the tree. He stopped and held out an arm to keep me behind him.
I peered past him, watching the small round-bottomed creature work industriously. It seemed almost cuddly, about the size of Bonk. “The name sounds more dangerous than it looks.”
“That orange stripe down its back is made of hard plates with pointed tips that are lying down right now. Threaten it, and it’ll raise them up like armor. Really piss it off, and it’ll shoot them at you hard enough to do some damage.”
“Like lose an eye?”
“Like sever a jugular.”
Okay then, not like Bonk. “Let’s stay here, shall we?”
Shade’s low chuckle made me ridiculously happy. I wrapped my arms around him from behind. His hands covered mine on his abdomen.
“It’s almost done. It’ll take off after it gets what it wants.” Shade watched the banging process as avidly as I did. I couldn’t wait to see what happened.
The purple shell finally split open. Something fat, gray, and shiny slithered in a viscous goo. The little animal scarfed it up like a gourmet meal. After, it lapped up the goo.
“Ick.” I grimaced.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t eat that, either.”
I buried my laughter in Shade’s back, trying not to disturb the animal.
The orange spearback licked its paws and whiskers, looking very pleased with itself. After a quick glance around, it scuttled down the tree headfirst and disappeared into the jungle. Shade continued across the bridge once we couldn’t see the spearback anymore.
My SRP boyfriend’s clear competence here helped me fear the jungle less and enjoy it more. He really was a Space Rogue Phenom. My insides almost fluttered at the idea of what he might prove he could do next. Slay cyclodiles? Swing on vines? Start fire from sticks?
My smile so big I was probably catching gnats in my teeth, I listened to myriad unseen things call, chitter, buzz, and rattle. The shady-hot air filled my lungs with extra oxygen. Trees everywhere—giving life and air and cover to all the exotic and spectacular things here. Who’d have guessed? Tess Bailey, Space Rat, right in the middle of an untamed rain forest. The vibrant heartbeat of the jungle pulsed through me, wild and electric. I was sure that every time I closed my eyes for the rest of my life, I would hear it echo again inside me.
Shade stopped, leaning his elbows on the thick rope railing. I did the same. It was impossible to hurry past the open views from the bridge. They were too remarkable and demanded attention.
“Earth had tropical forests like this.” Because our abandoned motherland was our common history, we all studied it. Galactic schoolchildren spent an entire universal year on Earth’s geography, climate, animals, noteworthy history, and famous figures. It was how I knew what beavers were but not flervers. It made no sense that we hadn’t moved on more definitively yet, but I was glad we hadn’t. That had been my favorite school year. “It must have been amazing.”
“Earth had everything. It was the universe’s chosen planet—the start of humanity and civilization.” Shade finished crossing the bridge and stepped onto the wide platform.
I followed him toward the rope ladder that would bring us down again. “Then why do you think it hasn’t attracted all that many returners?” Hitting the solid wood of the platform threw me off-balance, and I swayed a little. I must have gained my bridge legs during the crossing.
“Because it’s a cesspit.”
I burst out laughing, startling a bird that took off abruptly from the tree next to us. “Not really. Not anymore.” Time cured everything, even radiation and plastic. “That one little planet still affects our lives after all this time, and yet hardly anyone actually wants to go back there. I mean, I don’t give a crap what time it is on any of the rocks I’ve been to recently, or even on this one, really. I care what time the clock says it is on Earth, a barely populated planet across the galaxy.”
Instead of starting down to the forest floor, Shade hopped up on the platform railing, looking pensive. “I suppose it’s because we need constants, and we can all trace ourselves back there. Earth was home to all of humanity for a lot longer than anywhere else ever has been.”
“True… But don’t you think it’s strange? How hard we hold on to things that shouldn’t have any meaning for us? My favorite books are all mostly pre-exodus, talking about places and animals and ways of life that don’t even exist anymore.” Although right here didn’t feel all that different from some of the locations I’d read about.
“Pre-exodus books are hard to find these days.”
“The Overseer’s book purge.” I sighed in disgust. “Too many thoughts out there that weren’t his own.”
“Or that didn’t serve his purpose.”
Shade swung his legs, a slow tick-tock as he answered my earlier question. “I think we hold on to the past because we haven’t changed. Sure, we have more sophisticated tech and things our ancestors could only dream of, but otherwise, what’s really different about us?”