The Last Silver

Chapter 54: The Ground Beneath Their Feet

The planet refused to become a home merely because Dinraal wanted it to.

For the next six hours, it remained a collection of measurements.

Atmospheric composition. Surface pressure. Ocean chemistry. Wind patterns. Soil samples collected by drones that seemed determined to examine every pebble on the continent.

Dinraal stood behind Asha’s workstation, watching a small mechanical arm lower a sample container into the ground.

“Anything?”

“Yes,” Asha said.

He waited.

“Soil.”

Beside her, Eve hid a smile.

Dinraal folded his arms.

“I’m beginning to think you enjoy this.”

“Planetary surveys?” Asha asked. “Immensely.”

“Making me wait.”

“Also immensely.”

Isolde approached carrying two cups. She handed one to him and looked over Asha’s shoulder.

“How does it look?”

“Promising,” Eve said. “The initial landing site is well above the river’s floodplain. Bedrock is stable. The local water will need treatment, but nothing beyond the equipment we brought.”

“And the things that might eat us?” Dinraal asked.

“We’re still cataloguing those.”

He lowered his cup.

Asha finally looked up.

“That was a joke.”

“Was it?”

“Mostly.”

Isolde sipped her drink.

“I like this planet already.”

They selected a broad terrace overlooking a river.

To the east, the land sloped toward a shallow valley where low vegetation shimmered beneath the wind. Farther away, dark woodland gathered along the water.

Mountains rose to the west.

The coast lay beyond the southern horizon, close enough for future access and far enough that the first settlement would not have to contend with every storm arriving from the sea.

Julius studied the terrain projection.

“We can establish the landing field here. Habitats farther north. Storage along this rise.”

Cleopatra moved one of his markers.

“Medical facilities before storage.”

“I was placing them centrally.”

“You were placing them beside the maintenance yard.”

“For access.”

“For noise.”

Julius considered the revised arrangement.

“Fair.”

Alexander indicated the river.

“Two crossings eventually. One near the settlement, another upstream. Otherwise, a single damaged bridge cuts off half our expansion.”

Arcturus remained focused on the system map.

“I want observation platforms above both orbital poles. Patrol routes through the outer system. We should know about an arrival before it reaches the inner planets.”

Aurelius nodded.

“Use the equipment we have. Permanent stations can follow.”

Dinraal listened as the projection filled with markers.

The place was becoming more real with every decision.

Water processing.

A medical ward.

Warehouses.

Homes.

Then Gilgamesh leaned over the table.

“Where do we put the training grounds?”

Cleopatra pointed beyond the proposed settlement.

“There.”

He frowned.

“That’s rather far.”

“Yes.”

“Deliberately?”

“Yes.”

Isolde set down her cup.

“I’m siding with Cleopatra.”

Gilgamesh looked to Dinraal for support.

Dinraal thought about the strength now available to every silver-armored member of their group.

“The continent is large,” he said. “Use some of it.”

They descended in a shuttle.

Dinraal had suggested that several of them could fly down ahead of it.

Eve had asked whether he wanted their first close atmospheric readings contaminated by the effects of his armor.

He had stopped suggesting things.

Now he sat beside Isolde while the hull trembled gently around them.

Across the aisle, Tiamat watched the approaching landscape through a small window. Aramaeis sat beside her, silent, his hands resting loosely on his knees.

Rhiannon had secured the medical supplies twice.

Johanna checked them a third time.

The First Weapon stood close to Dinraal’s legs, shifting with each change in the shuttle’s movement.

Dinraal lowered a hand.

A familiar nudge met his palm.

“You too?” he murmured.

The First Weapon leaned into the touch.

Isolde watched them fondly.

“He’s handling it better than you.”

“I’m handling it perfectly.”

“You’ve checked the landing estimate four times.”

“Five,” Aramaeis said without turning.

Dinraal looked across the aisle.

His uncle’s expression remained innocent.

Tiamat smiled into the window.

Then the shuttle banked.

The river appeared beneath them, bright in the afternoon sun.

Nobody spoke after that.

The landing gear settled with a soft, heavy thump.

Dinraal felt it through his boots.

For a moment, everyone remained seated.

There was something strange about the absence of motion.

The ship was still.

Beyond its hull lay an entire world.

Asha’s voice came from the forward compartment.

“Keep your suits sealed until the local readings are confirmed.”

Silver rose over Dinraal’s throat and closed around his head. Beside him, Isolde’s armor formed with the quiet ease of a familiar breath.

The others followed.

The ramp lowered.

Light entered first.

Then the sight of low, blue-green growth bending beneath the wind.

Dinraal walked down with Isolde beside him.

His first step sank slightly into the soil.

He stopped.

Behind them, Gilgamesh almost walked into Alexander.

“What is it?”

Dinraal looked down at the mark his boot had left.

“Nothing.”

Isolde knew better.

She slipped her hand into his.

They moved forward together.

The clearing opened around them. Beyond the landing site, the terrace fell toward the river in a series of gentle slopes. Something small and winged rose from the vegetation, circled once, and disappeared toward the trees.

No ruins.

No smoke.

No wreckage.

Dinraal found himself searching for those things anyway.

He looked toward the ridge, then the woodland.

Nothing moved there except leaves.

Asha knelt beside an instrument case.

Eve walked a short distance away, comparing the readings on her tablet with the sensors hovering above the landing site.

Rhiannon watched them with poorly concealed impatience.

Finally, Eve nodded.

“Within the cleared range. Brief unsealed exposure is approved. Report any discomfort immediately.”

Dinraal’s helmet withdrew.

Cool air touched his face.

He inhaled cautiously.

The air smelled damp and faintly sweet, with something earthy beneath it that he could not name.

Beside him, Isolde closed her eyes.

A breeze moved through her hair.

“Oh,” she said softly.

Dinraal watched her take another breath.

Then he looked at the river and did the same.

The First Weapon inspected the landing site with far greater enthusiasm than the scientists.

He investigated the shuttle’s landing gear, a cluster of broad leaves, and a stone that apparently required prolonged attention.

Then he returned to Dinraal and pressed against his side.

“You approve?”

A tongue brushed his fingers.

“I’ll put that in the report.”

Asha glanced over.

“Please don’t.”

Several paces away, Tiamat stood facing the mountains.

Aramaeis joined her.

For a while, neither moved.

Dinraal approached slowly.

“Is something wrong?”

Tiamat shook her head.

“No.”

She sounded surprised by her own answer.

He stood beside her.

The wind moved between them.

“I keep waiting,” she admitted.

“For what?”

She looked toward the open sky.

“For the moment we have to leave.”

Dinraal followed her gaze.

He understood that too well to offer an easy answer.

“We haven’t committed everyone yet,” he said. “We’ll survey. Build what we can. Make certain this works.”

“And if it does?”

“Then we stay.”

Tiamat swallowed.

Aramaeis rested a hand against her shoulder.

“We can begin with tonight,” he said.

She looked at him.

“One night without running.”

After a moment, she nodded.

“That would be nice.”

The first construction shuttle arrived less than an hour later.

Then another.

The quiet clearing filled with voices and machinery.

Survey stakes appeared in the ground. Power cables uncoiled. Workers guided prefabricated floor sections into place while overhead drones marked the limits of the landing area.

Dinraal went to help move a support beam.

The construction foreman looked at him.

Then at the beam.

Then at the silver covering his arm.

“How much can you lift?”

Dinraal hesitated.

“How much do you need lifted?”

The foreman’s expression brightened in a way that made Isolde laugh.

Within minutes, Dinraal found himself holding one end of an entire habitat section while Gilgamesh supported the other.

“Left,” the foreman called.

They moved left.

“A little more.”

Gilgamesh looked along the structure.

“My left or his?”

“You’re facing the same way.”

“Then that simplifies matters.”

“Down slowly.”

The habitat settled onto its supports.

A crew rushed forward to lock it in place.

Dinraal stepped back.

Something deeply satisfying stirred in his chest.

The building remained where they had put it.

No explosion.

No collapsing enemy.

A door waiting to be attached.

Isolde approached with a bundle of survey markers beneath one arm.

“You look pleased.”

“I think I am.”

“You’ve found something you can lift without anyone shooting at you.”

“That may be part of it.”

She glanced at the growing settlement.

“Come on. Johanna needs the medical unit positioned.”

He offered his hand.

“After you, wife.”

Isolde slowed.

Then she turned toward him, smiling.

“You’re enjoying that.”

“Immensely.”

“Try to remain useful while you do.”

By late afternoon, the medical shelter had power.

Two habitat rows stood beyond it. A water-processing unit hummed inside a fenced enclosure, and the beginnings of a communications mast rose above the landing field.

Aurelius arrived aboard the third shuttle.

He stepped onto the ground and remained at the bottom of the ramp for several seconds.

Dinraal, carrying an empty equipment crate, stopped to watch him.

Aurelius looked toward the river.

Then the mountains.

Finally, the buildings.

“You’ve been busy.”

“The foreman discovered we were available.”

“A dangerous mistake.”

“I’m beginning to understand that.”

Aurelius smiled, but his attention remained on the settlement.

Workers moved between the shelters. Someone called for another spool of cable. Near the medical unit, Johanna was informing a man with a bleeding thumb that his task could indeed wait five minutes.

Ordinary voices carried easily across the clearing.

Aurelius’s expression softened.

“It suits you.”

“What does?”

He gestured toward the crate.

Dinraal looked down.

“I’ve been told I carry things very well.”

“I meant this.”

Aurelius looked around them.

Dinraal followed his gaze.

For once, he did not feel embarrassed by the pride in the older man’s voice.

He shifted the crate beneath one arm.

“There’s quite a lot left.”

“Yes,” Aurelius said. “I imagine there will be for years.”

Dinraal considered that.

Then he smiled.

The research meeting took place in a shelter that still smelled of packing material.

Asha had claimed one wall for her displays. Eve had claimed the only chair that did not wobble.

Julius adjusted the leg of another with a folded strip of packaging.

Dinraal sat beside Isolde.

Outside, someone dropped a tool and swore.

The sound made the room feel less ominous than the image Asha brought onto the screen.

The Questioner’s darkness spread across a frozen field of stars.

“We’ve separated a useful portion of the records,” Eve began. “The measurements from its arrival are badly distorted, but the earlier logs are intact.”

“Earlier than what?” Arcturus asked.

“The Sovereign’s defeat.”

Asha placed a second recording beside the first.

A thin line ran across the bottom.

Then it bent.

Dinraal leaned forward.

“What am I looking at?”

“A timing disagreement between two navigation instruments,” she said. “Small enough that the automatic correction removed it from the primary display.”

“When?”

Asha highlighted the timestamp.

“Before you and Isolde joined your silver around the transport.”

Isolde sat straighter.

“So it was already happening.”

“Yes,” Eve said. “The stronger distortion came later, but the first measurable change preceded your repair.”

Dinraal looked from one display to the other.

Since the wedding, he had carried the possibility that using their power together had somehow drawn the Questioner directly toward them.

Now that certainty loosened.

It did not disappear.

“But it still reacted to us.”

“Possibly,” Asha said. “We’re keeping the two observations separate. It was arriving before the repair. Something intensified during the repair. We have evidence for both.”

Aramaeis studied the frozen image.

“Could the Sovereign have called it?”

“The last transmission we recorded from the Sovereign wasn’t directed toward the fleet,” Eve said.

Silence settled.

Dinraal’s gaze sharpened.

“You found a destination?”

“No. We found a repeated structure in the signal. It appears in an older Imperial record as well.”

She replaced the image with a fragment of damaged text.

“An unmanned listening station recorded it shortly before losing contact with its survey group. The original investigation classified it as equipment interference.”

“What happened to the group?” Aurelius asked.

“They were never recovered.”

Tiamat folded her arms tightly.

Asha’s voice remained gentle.

“We have not found the Questioner’s name in that record. We cannot confirm it was present. But the signal is close enough to justify examining the entire archive.”

Dinraal studied the fragment.

“Then the Sovereign might have sent a message.”

“Yes.”

“Or answered one,” Isolde said.

Everyone looked at her.

She glanced toward the frozen words from their encounter.

THE FIRST QUESTION HAS BEEN ANSWERED.

“The message said something had been answered. We assumed it meant the battle.”

Eve slowly turned back to the display.

“But there may have been an actual exchange.”

Asha was already reaching for her tablet.

Dinraal watched them work for a moment.

“What do you need?”

“Time,” Eve said. “And the colony’s older signal archives. We only brought the indexed material.”

Aurelius nodded.

“The returning courier can carry the request.”

Arcturus tapped the table.

“We should include the station’s coordinates. I want to know how far that incident was from our encounter.”

Dinraal looked at Tiamat.

She was staring at the record, frightened but attentive.

This time, she remained in her chair.

That evening, the first message went back to the Imperial colony aboard a courier.

It carried survey results, requests for additional equipment, and confirmation that the expedition had established a temporary surface camp.

Dinraal recorded a short statement to accompany it.

He stood outside the medical shelter with the river behind him.

For several seconds, he struggled to decide what to say.

Isolde waited beside the recording device.

“You don’t need to make it grand.”

“I know.”

“Tell them what we found.”

He looked toward the shelters.

Then back at the lens.

“We’ve landed,” he said. “The first surveys are encouraging. We have clean water, power, and enough shelter for the teams already here. We’re continuing the biological and seasonal assessments before bringing more people down.”

He paused.

A worker walked behind Isolde carrying a door.

Dinraal watched him wrestle it around an equipment trolley.

“We’ll send the next supply requirements with this report. If the surveys continue as expected, we’ll begin preparing for the first larger arrivals.”

He almost stopped there.

Then he added, “There’s room.”

Isolde’s expression changed.

Dinraal looked into the lens.

“A great deal of it.”

She ended the recording.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then she came around the device and kissed his cheek.

“That will do.”

Their assigned quarters stood near the end of the second habitat row.

The room contained a bed, a narrow table, two chairs, and three storage compartments.

One of the chairs rocked slightly.

The door stuck unless lifted.

Dinraal opened it for Isolde with considerable ceremony.

She stepped inside.

Then she turned slowly, examining everything.

“Well?”

She touched the table.

Pressed a hand against the wall.

Looked through the small window toward the darkening ridge.

“It has potential.”

“The door needs work.”

“So does the chair.”

“I can fix those.”

“I know.”

He set their bags beside the bed.

Isolde opened hers and removed a small folded bundle.

Her wedding dress.

She placed it carefully in the upper storage compartment.

Dinraal watched her smooth the fabric.

Then she took out a little container holding several flowers from the lounge.

“You brought them.”

“Rhiannon packed them.”

“Of course she did.”

A note had been tucked beneath the lid.

Isolde read it and smiled.

“What does it say?”

She passed it to him.

For your first room. Try to spend some time in it.

Dinraal looked toward the door.

“Do you think she’s waiting outside to enforce that?”

“Possibly.”

He shut it.

It stuck halfway.

Isolde laughed while he lifted it into place.

They went outside again after eating.

The settlement lights glowed behind them. Above, unfamiliar constellations spread across a clear sky.

Dinraal could pick out several moving points where their ships held orbit.

Farther out, Arcturus’s patrols were taking up their stations.

Isolde sat beside him on the low step outside their door.

For a while, they listened.

The river was too far away to hear clearly, but the wind moved through the growth beyond the habitat row. Somewhere near the landing field, two workers argued amiably about a missing wrench.

The First Weapon settled close enough that Dinraal could rest a hand against him.

Isolde leaned against Dinraal’s shoulder.

“Do you think it will work?”

He looked toward the half-built mast.

“I think tomorrow we’ll finish that.”

She followed his gaze.

“And the day after?”

“More shelters. Perhaps the second water unit.”

“And after that?”

He turned toward her.

“We keep going.”

She nodded slowly.

Her wedding ring was warm beneath his fingers.

Behind them, the room held their bags. Her dress. Flowers from the ceremony.

Small things they had brought because they wanted to keep them.

Dinraal looked out over the clearing.

By morning, there would be more work than they could finish.

Tonight, he knew where he would sleep.

Isolde rose first and offered him her hand.

“Come inside, husband.”

He took it.

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