Char lowered her head to the telescope’s lens and let out a huff. “I hate this thing.”
“You hate all technology that isn’t a weapon or a spaceship.” Butler reached out and gently tugged her away, then slipped into her place.
She plopped down in the lawn chair and propped her chin on one hand, ignoring the splendid greenery keeping their actions concealed from prying neighbors as she stared at his back. Her shoulder was cold where his hand had been, all too briefly. It made her broody and snappish. “Well?”
The pause was broken by a cough that sounded nothing like laughter. At least, not on the last planet where they’d been mission partners, all guttural wheezes and phlegm sounds. “We’re not observing the space station, Char.”
She squirmed, the outdoor chair’s woven strings rippling against her palms. “We should be.” The words sounded sulky even to her. “Someone’s got to be transiting to Algernon.”
Butler twisted his head around, too-long dark hair flopping into his eyes for a moment before brushing it away. “We have tech watching and trackers for that.” He fiddled with the lens and repositioned it. “Here. Take a look.”
She bolted upright so fast the chair clattered over, nearly spilling her along with it. Muttering, she kicked it free from her throbbing foot. “Blast it.”
Looking up, his hands were positioned to catch her. Probably just to save the ‘scope. She grunted an apology.
Fingertips lifted in acceptance. “Look, Char.”
The lens fogged from her breath, and she huddled with impatient twitches, shifting her weight from one boot to another. “Finally.”
The planet’s albedo had definitely changed over the past two months, with solar radiation reflecting less and less. They’d been in position on Algernon’s moon for nearly thirty days since the alert arrived, something so strange as to pull the Corporation’s two best spies from their respective missions.
“It’s down enough?” She scanned through her memory files, trying to find the percentage they were waiting to validate.
“Rapid terraforming,” Butler said, and wrapped an arm around her waist. “It’s got to be. Tomorrow, you shuttle us down and we get proof. It’s either stolen tech or tech gone wrong. Making our employers rich or killing us flunkies.”
She snagged the bottle of wine from the side table with a stretch and leaned back against his shoulder. “Last night on the moon, then. It’d be a shame to waste this open bottle.” She didn’t dare meet his eyes. “You know. If you’re not going to be busy prepping.”
“I think,” he began, and made an odd noise again that this time definitely wasn’t laughter. “I believe I’m already prepared and have plenty of free time.”
***
This week, Cedar Sanderson brought back Lady Death with her prompt challenge: The planet’s changing albedo indicated something strange.
My prompt went to Cedar in return: It was only halfway through the sixpack that Micah realized his beer granted him the newfound ability to see ghosts and Fae.
Check out the fun with More Odds Than Ends this week – and discover something special for next week!
