The five of us set our bedrolls in a circle around the stove, wrapped ourselves in blankets, then … just sat there. It felt early. As exhausted as we clearly were—Tenzig wasn’t even arguing with anyone—we didn’t seem to want to sleep. So we talked.
“I don’t know how I’m ever going sleep,” Ladhi said. “There’s things out here waiting to eat us. I just know it.”
“They probably cleared out any animals before they brought us in,” Ethan said reassuringly.
“Human beings weren’t meant to sleep outside,” I said. “If we were meant to sleep outsid
e, why did we evolve into living in houses? Forget colonizing the solar system, roofs are one of humanity’s greatest achievements.”
“Hey, turn off the stove for a minute,” Charles said.
Ladhi complained, “No, it’s cold out!”
“Just for a few minutes, I want to see something.” He was looking up into the night sky visible above the clearing.
Ethan turned off the stove, and the orange heating element faded.
We’d all been staring at the light, so we needed a few moments for our vision to get used to complete darkness. When the outlines of the trees and mountains around us took on definition, Charles pointed up.
“Look,” he said.
We looked up and saw the stars. Millions of sharp and sparkling lights on a black backdrop. Nothing between us and the universe.
I saw a line of three stars close together and my breath caught. Orion’s Belt—was that Orion?
“It’s the same constellations we have,” I murmured.
“Of course it is. A couple hundred million kilometers doesn’t mean much next to light-years,” Charles said.
“I know that, I just wasn’t … I dunno. Expecting it.”
“There—we don’t see that at home.” He pointed to a reddish spot close to the horizon. “That’s Mars, I’m pretty sure.”
I wasn’t used to hearing Charles sound uncertain about anything, but I could understand why he might. Hard to believe that tiny, inconsequential spot was an entire planet—our home. Rationally, we knew it was. Emotionally, it was hard to take in. The spot of light was so tiny. So far away. But it was also pretty—bright and twinkling, it stood out from all the other lights around it.
“Can we see Jupiter?” Ethan asked.
“Given the time of year and location, I think … there.” Charles pointed to a strong buttery light in a different part of the sky.
“Oh, wow,” Ethan breathed. “I’ve seen Earth from Jupiter through a telescope. It looks just like that, just a twinkling dot. But it’s blue. You can tell it’s blue.”
How did people on this planet, thousands of years ago, ever figure out those bright lights were planets and not stars? Because they really did look different. Different colors. And if we watched them every night, they would move differently across the sky. The stars held their places for tens of thousands of years. The planets moved week by week.
I started talking out loud, not even realizing I was, like my mind was moving so fast it just wanted to go. “They’re like spots on a map. They’re places, and I want to go. See them up close, for real, not just as spots of light in the sky. I can’t stand being grounded like this.”
“I want to go home,” Ladhi said, sighing. We wouldn’t be able to see Moore Station without a telescope. Too small, not reflective enough. But she was looking in a certain section of sky, like she knew it was there, tens of millions of kilometers away.
I looked across our little stove to Charles, whose face was mostly shadow, a faint outline of light marking his chin and cheek. Just then he looked up at me, caught my gaze. Nodded, just a little.
“It’s going to be okay,” he murmured. Was that for me or for him?
* * *
I must have slept, because I woke up. Several times, in fact, drifting off and starting awake, feeling disoriented every time. My feet were sore, my legs stiff when I moved them. I dreamed about having sore feet and never really seemed to fully regain consciousness. The air felt colder every time I opened my eyes. And wetter, like I could stick out my tongue and take a sip of the dampness. I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders and curled up against the chill.
Finally, when I started awake again and looked past the edge of the shelter, the sky was light. Well, lighter. A foggy gray instead of dark, and the stars had vanished. I heard noises—chirping, peeping. There didn’t seem much point in trying to go back to sleep. I hauled myself up to sitting. Ethan was already awake and next to the stove, which he’d turned up to heat what looked like water.
“Morning,” he said, glancing at me, smiling. “There’s coffee mix with the food supplies. Want some?”