“Now look at that sunset,” he said, pointing. His hand, blunted in its dirty tan glove, rose to the horizon.
The sunset was a long line of shadow, a pale hue up in the sky that drove along the surface in a line. It started from one direction and then—unlike an earthly sunset which went down—it shifted around in a 180-degree arc. The light reflected off a series of moons, so it was handed across the horizon from left to right. It took hours. The sunrises were quieter, like pale ribbons. Midday was cream-colored, with hints of salmon along the edges.
“Go get Sibbetts,” Jenks said. Squirrel ran inside, but Sibbetts wouldn’t come out.
“She said she can see it from inside,” Squirrel reported.
Strike one against Sibbetts, Jenks thought.
The rocks seemed smooth, but they must have had an abrasive component to them. Darcy found, one night, a tear in two places on his right glove. He got alcohol and cleaned his hands. Of course, he should report it. He didn’t.
Jenks found a tear in her suit, around her knee. She put it in the daily report. They were out of range, now; there was no one to check with, to discuss it with. She didn’t want to alarm her junior officers.
Darcy got a new glove and saw within a day that it had shredded along the wrist. Nothing had happened to him after the first hole, so when Brute said, “Damn, my suit’s ripped!” he said, “It doesn’t matter. Mine ripped a week ago. I’m fine.”
They were coming inside. Jenks heard them both. She didn’t say anything; she kept thinking about it at dinner. “My suit was torn too,” she said finally. “No signs of anything.”
“You can’t be sure,” Sibbetts said. “An alien bacteria, a disease—who says you would know by now? Take some antibiotics, get some new suits.”
“We’re pretty much already done for, if we’re done for,” Darcy said.
Sibbetts, always in her lab, could be seen as a figure bending over or lifting things, tapping at her computer or putting something in a jar. They could see her through the plexi window; she never seemed to look for them.
“She’s so stuck,” Darcy said. “Never tries anything. Never takes a risk. And she calls herself an explorer.”
“She calls herself a scientist,” Brute said.
“
“Put that back on,” Jenks said.
“Look at my hands.” Squirrel lifted them up and showed the holes. “The air’s been getting in for two weeks, at least. Let me tell you,” he said, breathing in deep, his nostrils working, “it’s got a strange smell.” He sucked in air so hard his chest rose up. “Spicy.” His chest relaxed. “Good.”
“Oh hell,” Brute said, taking off her hood as well. “It’s not like I haven’t done it already. I’ve been out sniffing it when no one’s looking. I swear, sir, it’s harmless.” She looked at Jenks and saluted.
Darcy already had his off. “Sir,” he said, “the smell gets better at sunset. It has something to do with the colors, I think.”
They looked at Jenks, waiting. She considered the facts: they were all exposed anyway. So she took her hood off. The air was moist, which was surprising; the sea never evaporated, it just rolled around. There was never moisture on their suits. But the smell was good, indeed.
“The colors are brighter,” Brute said, looking at the sea. Even though it wasn’t evening yet, the colors wove into the sky: yellow, saffron, salmon, butter, carnelian, ruby, blood.
They shed their hoods and then they shed their suits. The weather was perfect. There seemed no variation in temperature as they felt it. They did keep on shoes, because the arches of their feet were always tender, but they stripped down to their underwear.
And then they began touching the water.
It was irresistible. “Did you notice the variations?” Brute asked. “The variations of shade. How it runs from almond to cream? How you can watch the colors move?”
“To think I didn’t notice it before,” Darcy said. “What do you think caused that? The hoods? Maybe it was too subtle to make it through that plastic window of ours.”
“Plastic window,” Jenks laughed. “I think so. Look at Sibbetts, now, she doesn’t notice anything.” They turned and looked at Sibbetts, who straightened up and looked out at them, then turned away again.
“See that color there,” Squirrel said, pointing. “The way it laps.” They came up next to each other, forming a line. They stood very close. They were naked along their arms and legs, and they pulled in close to each other, so their skin touched. “I would hate to leave this place.”
“True, it’s getting to be more and more like home.” This was from Brute, who stepped forward and bent down, scooping up a ball of water. “All the comforts.” Her face got a sudden illumination and her eyes narrowed a little and she got a wicked grin. She looked at the ball of water in her hand, said, “Here goes, kids,” and neatly split it in two, dropping half and popping the other half in her mouth.
