Hub Administrator Fey Ayan leaned back in her chair, studying the man who towered before her desk. Starcarver filled her modest office with his presence, his broad shoulders almost blocking the window. Behind him, through the plexiglass, came first the prefabricated structures of the Hub complex, and then the lush surface of Kabus.

  Ayan tapped her stylus against the edge of her desk. "Your documentation is in order," she said. "However, I must insist on an itinerary for your pilgrimage."

  Starcarver's expression remained impassive. "Administrator Ayan, our path cannot be plotted on your maps. Our feet will be guided by the world itself. And, if you don’t mind, it is called a Passage."

  Across the office, Marlo glanced up from his monitoring station, then quickly returned to his screens. Ayan sighed. Her assistant might as well change his job title to eavesdropper.

  "This world," she said, "is Kabus, a moon of Mosogon. And you Torchers would do well to consider the dangers involved." She gestured toward the window. "Ninety-five percent of the surface remains unsurveyed despite our best efforts. We have no idea what is out there."

  "We understand the dangers," Starcarver replied. "We welcome them with open hearts and minds."

  Ayan suppressed a sigh. "But you must know where you're going. How will you know what supplies to bring?"

  "We bring our nutrient packs as prescribed. That is all we need."

  Ayan’s monitor flashed updated atmospheric readings. She swiped them away in irritation.

  "Administrator," Starcarver continued, "we require nothing from you beyond authorization. Our needs are minimal."

  Ayan’s eye drifted across his outfit. Starcarver's tall frame was draped in layers of well-travelled fabric. He had a patchwork vest over an earth-toned jumpsuit, adorned with bits and pieces…talismans? Whatever they were, he had them hanging from his short grey hair, too.

  "Your needs,” she said, “are not the problem. Kabus has needs, and it might use you to fill them.”

  That caught his attention. Starcarver's weathered face remained impassive, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

  "So far," she continued, leaning forward, "no drone has been able to break the jungle canopy without being entangled. We began surveying some of the closer karst caves and found web organisms that emit reactive spores when disturbed. We don’t know what these spores are exactly because they immediately dissolved our sampling units. And the coastal swamps experience tidal shifts that you can’t even begin to imagine."

  Starcarver studied her with unsettling calmness. "Fascinating."

  "I'm not trying to fascinate you," Ayan said. "I'm trying to warn you that this moon is resisting settlement. The Hub is our third attempt at establishing a foothold."

  Starcarver's lips curved into the faintest smile. "All will be revealed to us," he said. "What you see as hostility, we recognize as invitation. The greater the challenge, the more profound the Passage." He straightened his already impressive height. "Now, if you could give us permission to depart the Hub, we would be very grateful."

  Behind her came the sounds of furious clicking as Marlo pretended to type a report. Ayan sighed. She had fulfilled her administrative duty by voicing her concerns. What happened to the Torchers beyond the Hub's walls was, technically, not her concern.

  "Fine," she said slowly. "I’ll send your departure clearance later. I assume you carry a device of some sort?"

  Starcarver inclined his head. "For now, I carry a simple device for just such a purpose. A good day to you, Hub Administrator."

  After he left, Ayan took a deep breath and slumped back into her chair. "They're all going to die out there," she said, rubbing her temples.

  Marlo swiveled his chair to face her. "That's their business," he said. "Kabus really needs colonists. We can't be picky about who decides to set foot on it."

  "There’s only eight of them, Marlo."

  "Don't underestimate the Torchers," Marlo said. "Remember what happened on Colloid IV? World tsunami, all colonies wiped out. The planetary commission’s salvage team thought they’d be lucky to find corpses. Then wham! There were the Torchers, still making their sacred Passage through waterlogged ruins. Not a single casualty."

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  Through the window, Ayan watched the mist that crawled over the jungle, tinted lilac by the purple glow of Mosogon.

  "Colloid IV is a barren rock planet," she muttered. "Not a vegetated moon tortured by the pull of a gas giant." She turned from the window. "Get in touch with that field scientist. The one who smashed his strataglider."

  Marlo raised an eyebrow. "Ootu? What for?"

  "I want him to do…something."

  Marlo smiled. "Oh, do you want him to…monitor something?"

  "For now." Ayan returned her gaze to the window. "Let's see how far faith carries them across that chaos."

  ?

  The social heart of the Hub had been optimistically designated as the "Colonial Reception Center." Now, thirteen years after the initial surge of interest had dwindled to a trickle, the cavernous space was depressingly empty. Tables meant for hundreds now accommodated fewer than a dozen scattered patrons, each determined to maintain maximum distance from the others.

  Ootu approached the vending machine, his gait betraying both his age and his complete disregard for it. He jabbed a thick, gnarly finger at the machine's interface, cursing softly when it failed to respond. A second, more forceful prod produced a reluctant hum as the dispenser processed his selection.

  "Triple-strength stimulant. Ethanol additive," the machine announced cheerfully.

  "About damned time," Ootu muttered, snatching the cup. He took a sip, grimaced at the synthetic burn, then surveyed his fellow drinkers. There, that figure hunched at a corner table, staring out the window. The perfect audience.

  Ootu really wanted to talk.

  He settled his awkward frame into the chair opposite the man. Judging by his faded insignia, he was a maintenance worker.

  "Fascinating, isn’t it?" Ootu said, gesturing toward the window with his drink.

  The man's gaze remained fixed on the window, but a slight tilt of his head indicated he knew Ootu was there.

  "Name's Ootu. Field Scientist. Xenobiology, geology, meteorology, any ology on offer." He took a swig. "I’ve outlived seventeen research partners, three wives, and every prediction about life expectancy."

  The man’s head tilted the other way.

  Ootu took this as interest and leaned forward. "Eight times they've tried to retire me. Eight times! And each time, I've found my way back into the field." He tapped his chest proudly. "Heart's been replaced twice. Left lung once. Immune system's entirely synthetic now. But the brain…" He tapped his temple. “Original equipment. Mostly."

  The worker's eyes briefly flicked toward Ootu before returning to the window.

  "Kabus is my latest obsession," Ootu continued. "The last moon of Mosogon to be colonized, but unlike the others, this one's got something...peculiar about it. Can't quite put my finger on it."

  He leaned back, swirling the amber liquid in his cup. "The other six moons? Standard stuff. Extraction colonies on the mineral-rich ones, research stations on the ice balls, luxury compounds on the dull rocky ones. But Kabus..." He shook his head. "Kabus resists categorization."

  The worker’s finger twitched.

  "Take the magnetic field," Ootu said, slapping his palms on the table. "Completely at odds with its ferrous core composition. Should be stable, but it fluctuates in ways that defy known planetary physics. And the ocean — such tidal extremes! And don’t get me started on the vegetation…”

  Ootu looked at the man expectantly, hoping he would indicate that the scientist should indeed get started.

  But no such indication was forthcoming. Ootu sighed, then looked at the worker more carefully. His pupils were massively dilated, reflecting the gas giant’s glow.

  "Of course," Ootu continued softly, "there's also the madness to consider. The Seep. Supposedly affects newcomers within their first year." He touched the worker’s stiff arm. “There’s something on Kabus that…trickles into some minds, starts doing things in there. Although—”

  "You...you see it too, right?" the worker interrupted.

  Ootu nodded. "Hmm. Yes, I’d say—"

  "SHHHH!" The man raised a finger to his lips. "Don’t explain it away."

  “Not another word about it,” said Ootu, reaching for his communicator. It chimed before he had even opened it, and he glanced at the caller id. "Good timing," he muttered, tapping to accept. "Ootu here."

  "It's Marlo," came the familiar voice of Administrator Ayan's assistant. "Ayan wants to discuss something with you."

  "She finally approved my request for the deep field?"

  "Not exactly," Marlo replied. "We’ve got a party of Torchers about to go on their Passage. She wants you to accompany them."

  Ootu nearly spilled his drink. "Torchers? Cultists? Fine. When do they leave? Can I get my strataglider back?"

  "No," Marlo cut him off. "It's still in pieces after you forgot to disengage the terrain-following autopilot and nearly decapitated two people."

  "Minor calibration issue," Ootu dismissed with a wave. "Easily fixed."

  "I’m sure it is," Marlo continued. "Nevertheless, Torchers walk everywhere. They refuse technology. You'll have to stroll alongside."

  Ootu considered this, absentmindedly watching as his catatonic table companion.

  "Walking doesn't sound so bad," he finally said. "Gets me closer to the ground…but what's in it for me?"

  "Ayan's offering you control over next quarter's research budget."

  "Control?" Ootu straightened in his chair. "As in, complete discretionary authority?"

  "Yep. Full research autonomy in exchange for keeping an eye on the Torchers and reporting back."

  Ootu's weathered face split into a grin. "Tell her I accept. When do we leave?"

  "Tomorrow at 0500. You might want to go and meet them first. They’re in Hangar 4D.”

  “I’ll be there. And Marlo?”

  “Yes?”

  “There's a worker here in the Colonial Reception Center showing advanced signs of Seep.” Ootu patted his table companion’s arm. “He needs a psych evaluation."

  "Got it. I'll have someone there right away.”

  The connection terminated. Ootu pocketed his device, drained his drink, and stood. "Duty calls," he announced.

  His companion gave no indication of having heard. But as Ootu turned to leave, the worker grabbed his wrist.

  "Kabus knows you're coming," he whispered, eyes still fixed on the window.

  Ootu gently extricated himself. "Yes, and I'll be sure to take readings," he said.