Mayday

<h1 class="title-mark"><span>mayday</span><span>mayday</span><span>mayday</span></h1> Your ship went down on a world no one has named yet. Something found you before the rescue did. <span class="note">Contains horror themes, a predator, and implied death. Nothing graphic.</span> [[Begin->Crash]] <div class="tracker"><div class="tracker-col"><p class="tracker-label">Endings found</p><ul><li data-ending="Crew">???</li><li data-ending="Truce">???</li><li data-ending="Vigil">???</li><li data-ending="Threat">???</li><li data-ending="Prey">???</li></ul></div><div class="tracker-col"><p class="tracker-label">Her name</p><p class="her-name" data-ending="Crew" data-reveal="Astrea">???</p></div></div>

(set: $threat to 0, $appeal to 0, $bond to 0, $copy to false, $meaning to false, $named to false, $burn to false, $flare to false, $disarmed to false, $rations to false, $tended to false, $answer to "")<span class="radio">“—mayday, mayday, mayday. This is survey vessel Tallow. I’ve lost—”</span> <span class="radio">“WARNING. Hull breach. All crew, brace for impact. All crew, brace for—”</span> Heat. A long, tearing scream of metal. Smoke so thick it has weight. And through it, just before everything goes dark, you see a shape moving straight at the fire, like it isn’t afraid of it at all. [[...->Wake]]

You wake up to pain. Your left leg throbs in time with your heartbeat. When you reach for it, your fingers find something hard strapped along your shin: two long, smooth lengths of pale bone, lashed tight with strips torn from your own flight suit. Someone set your leg. The air is cold and damp and smells like wet stone. Somewhere above you, a faint blue light swells and fades, swells and fades, slow as breathing. And somewhere in the dark, very close, something else is breathing too. Slowly. Patiently. In time with you. [[Turn your head->Reveal]]

<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-neutral.png" alt="Astrea, crouched and watching you"> She’s crouched an arm’s length away, so still you could have mistaken her for part of the cave. Glowing growths crust the walls of the den, painting everything a cold, shifting blue. In that light you can see what she’s gathered around herself: pieces of your ship. A scorched hull panel. Your flight recorder. Your emergency beacon, blinking its tiny red light. All of it arranged around her like a collection. Her eyes catch the light and hold it. When her lips part, you see fangs. Long, clean, and not for show. She speaks, and it’s *your* voice that comes out of her. Perfect. Torn straight from the recording. <span class="mimic">“Mayday.”</span> Then she blinks, and speaks again in a voice of her own: low and careful, like she’s setting each word down one at a time. “You are awake. Copy?” [[“...Copy.”->Copy]] [[“Who are you?”->Who Are You]] [[Scramble away from her->Scramble]]

(set: $copy to true)<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-curious.png" alt="Astrea tilts her head, curious"> Her head tilts. Slowly, and much further than a human neck should allow, like something behind her eyes is still working out how to look at you. “Copy,” she repeats, softer. Tasting it. “You speak like the box.” She glances at your flight recorder, then back at you. “Three days, I listen to the box. Three days, I learn. It says many words.” A pause. “You say one word most.” //Her shoulders drop, just a fraction. She seems pleased. You think.// [[...->Name]]

<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-curious.png" alt="Astrea tilts her head, curious"> She considers the question like it’s a strange object you’ve handed her. “Who,” she repeats. “I was going to ask you this.” Her gaze drifts to your flight recorder. When she speaks again, it’s in your voice, thin and desperate: <span class="mimic">“Is anyone receiving? Anyone?”</span> Then her own voice again, quieter. “No one was receiving. Only me.” //She didn’t answer you. But she didn’t mind being asked, either. She seems interested.// [[...->Name]]

(set: $appeal to $appeal + 2)<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-hungry.png" alt="Astrea’s pupils blow wide"> You shove yourself backward, and your splinted leg drags across the stone, and a sound comes out of you that you didn’t mean to make. She doesn’t move. But her eyes follow you. All the way. Her pupils swell wide and black, and she goes utterly still, the kind of still that comes right before a strike. Your back hits the cave wall. There’s nowhere left to go. //After a long moment, she blinks, and the stillness breaks. But she’s looking at you differently now. You don’t like it.// [[...->Name]]

<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-neutral.png" alt="Astrea holds up your flight recorder"> She picks up your flight recorder, gently, the way you’d pick up something that might break, and presses a button with one careful finger. Your own voice fills the den, tinny and frantic: <span class="radio">“—mayday, mayday, mayday—”</span> She stops it. Looks at you. “You say this many times. Before the fire.” She points at you. “So. Mayday.” It takes you a second to understand. She thinks it’s your *name.* [[Tell her what “mayday” actually means->What It Means]] [[Tell her your real name->Real Name]] [[“Give that back. It’s mine.”->Demand]]

(set: $bond to $bond + 1, $meaning to true, $threat to (max: 0, $threat - 1), $appeal to (max: 0, $appeal - 1))<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-curious.png" alt="Astrea listens, head bowed"> “It’s not a name,” you tell her. “It’s a call. It means *help me.* It’s what you say when you’re about to die and you need someone, anyone, to come.” She goes quiet. She plays the recording again, and this time she listens differently. Head bowed. Unmoving. <span class="radio">“—mayday, mayday—”</span> “Help me,” she says in her own voice. Then again, in yours. Trying it on. “You called and called.” Her eyes lift to yours. “No one came.” A beat. “Only me.” //You aren’t sure if that’s meant to be comforting. But she’s looking at you like she’s filing something away. Something important.// [[...->Collection]]

(set: $bond to $bond + 1, $named to true, $threat to (max: 0, $threat - 1), $appeal to (max: 0, $appeal - 1))<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-curious.png" alt="Astrea frowns, trying out a word"> You tell her your name. She tries it. Her mouth isn’t built for it. The sounds come out in the wrong shapes, landing in the wrong places. She tries again. Worse. Her brow furrows, and for a second she looks almost offended. “Mayday is easier,” she decides. “That’s not—” “Mayday,” she says firmly, and that seems to be the end of it. //But later, when she thinks you aren’t looking, you catch her mouthing your real name. Silently. Practicing.// [[...->Collection]]

(set: $threat to $threat + 2)<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-snarl.png" alt="Astrea bares her fangs and growls"> “Give that back. It’s mine.” It comes out harder than you meant it to. Your hand is already out, reaching for the recorder. Her lips peel back from her fangs. It isn’t a smile. The sound she makes starts somewhere deep in her chest, low and rolling, more felt than heard. You feel it through the stone under your palms. You pull your hand back. Slowly. The sound stops. She tucks the recorder behind her, out of your reach. “*Mine*,” she corrects. Then, pointing at you: “Mayday.” //Her eyes don’t leave your hands for a long time after that.// [[...->Collection]]

<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-neutral.png" alt="Astrea sits among the pieces of your ship"> She sets the recorder back among the rest of her collection, and for the first time you get a proper look at it. Your first-aid kit, pried open, the contents sniffed at and tossed aside. A tangle of wiring. The emergency beacon, still blinking red, set apart from everything else and turned to face the wall. And your flare gun, lying on its side, like she couldn’t work out what it was for. Then you notice her hand. She’s been keeping it curled against her body. The skin across the back of it is raw and blistered and shiny. A bad burn, and a fresh one. Your ship was on fire, and you remember a shape walking straight into it. The one that wasn’t afraid. [[Ask about her hand->Her Hand]] [[Ease toward the flare gun->Flare Gun]] [[Ask her for the beacon->The Beacon]]

(set: $bond to $bond + 1, $burn to true, $threat to (max: 0, $threat - 1), $appeal to (max: 0, $appeal - 1))<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-suspicious.png" alt="Astrea narrows her eyes, guarded"> “Your hand,” you say quietly. “That’s from my ship. From the fire.” She pulls it tighter against her body, like you’ve caught her at something. Her eyes narrow. “Fire is loud,” she says. “Fire was eating the box. And you.” A pause. “Food should not burn before I decide.” You’re not sure if that’s a joke. You’re not sure she knows what jokes are. “You pulled me out,” you say. She doesn’t answer. But she doesn’t deny it, either. //After a moment, the hard, guarded look in her eyes eases. Just a little.// [[...->Hunger]]

(set: $threat to $threat + 2, $flare to true)<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-suspicious.png" alt="Astrea narrows her eyes at your hand"> You shift your weight, slow and casual, and let your hand drift toward the flare gun, an inch, then another, until your fingers close around the grip. When you look up, she’s watching your hand. She doesn’t know what it is. You can tell. But she knows what it looks like when something reaches for a weapon. Every animal does. “What is that,” she says. It isn’t really a question. “Nothing,” you say. “It’s nothing.” You keep it. She lets you. //But she’s shifted her weight too, now, up onto the balls of her feet. She hasn’t blinked since you picked it up.// [[...->Hunger]]

(set: $threat to $threat + 1, $appeal to (max: 0, $appeal - 1))<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-suspicious.png" alt="Astrea glares at the blinking beacon"> “That blinking thing,” you say, nodding at the beacon. “Can I have it? It’s important.” Her gaze snaps to it, then back to you. Her lip curls. “It blinks,” she says. “Three days. It does not stop. It does not sleep.” She stares at the little red light like it has personally insulted her. “It is calling something.” “It’s calling for help. For me.” She takes that in. Then she reaches over and turns the beacon a little further toward the wall. “No.” //She isn’t angry, exactly. But the way she’s watching you has changed, like she’s already planning something. That might be good. It might not.// [[...->Hunger]]

<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-hungry.png" alt="Astrea leans close, fangs bared"> The blue light in the walls rises and dims on its slow rhythm. You lose track of how long the two of you sit there, watching each other. Then her stomach makes a sound. A long, low, hollow sound that echoes off the stone. She doesn’t look embarrassed. She looks at *you.* “Three days, I do not hunt,” she says. “Three nights, things come. They smell you. Blood, and fire, and soft.” She tilts her head toward the black mouth of the tunnel. “I make them leave.” She rises, uncoiling to her full height, and steps closer. Then closer. She crouches over you and breathes in, slow and deep, right at your throat. “I am very hungry, Mayday.” [[Don’t flinch. Keep breathing.->Hold Steady]] [[Offer her a ration bar->Ration Bar]] [[“Please. Please don’t eat me.”->Beg]] [[Shove her away and run for the tunnel->Four Steps]]

(set: $threat to (max: 0, $threat - 1), $appeal to (max: 0, $appeal - 1))<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-curious.png" alt="Astrea draws back, studying you"> You don’t flinch. You make yourself breathe. In, slow. Out, slower. Her breath is hot against your neck, and her fangs hover close enough that you can feel the warmth coming off them. Seconds pass. Long ones. Then she draws back an inch, studying you like she’s noticing you for the first time. “You do not run,” she murmurs. “You do not cry. Food runs. Food cries.” Her head tilts. “What are you?” //It isn’t a threat. It’s a real question. For the first time, she seems to actually want the answer.// [[...->The Burn]]

(set: $rations to true, $threat to (max: 0, $threat - 1), $appeal to (max: 0, $appeal - 1))<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-startled.png" alt="Astrea looks deeply betrayed by a ration bar"> Very slowly, you ease a hand into your flight suit and pull out a foil-wrapped ration bar. You peel it open and hold it out to her. She stares at it, then you, then it again. She sniffs it. Bites it. Chews exactly twice. Then she spits it onto the stone with a look of such profound betrayal that you almost laugh, despite everything. “That is not *food*,” she says, scandalized. “What are you eating?” “I ask myself that a lot,” you manage. //Amusement flickers across her face, there and gone. The hunger is still there. But she’s backed off a little, and she’s looking at you like a puzzle again. Not a meal.// [[...->The Burn]]

(set: $appeal to $appeal + 2)<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-hungry.png" alt="Astrea smiles with all her teeth"> “Please,” you whisper. “Please don’t. Please, I’ll do anything—” Your voice cracks. You can’t stop it. It keeps coming out of you, small and shaking and high. Her breathing changes. Against your throat, you feel her lips pull back. Her fangs graze the air just above your skin, testing you, not yet closing. “Soft,” she breathes, her voice gone slow and dreamy. “You sound *soft.*” //She pulls away, eventually. But she’s smiling now, and it’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen.// [[...->The Burn]]

You shove her. She lets herself be shoved, surprised, and you lunge for the tunnel. Your splinted leg buckles on the first step. You catch yourself on the wall. Second step. Third. Behind you, there is no sound at all. That’s the part you’ll keep thinking about, in the little time you have left. No roar. No footsteps. Just silence. The silence of something that has done this a thousand times, and knows exactly how it ends. You make it four steps. [[...->Tender]]

<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-neutral.png" alt="Astrea nurses her burned hand"> Later, though you couldn’t say how much later, you notice she’s worrying at her burned hand. Licking at it. Flinching every time she does. The first-aid kit sits open in her collection. Burn gel. Bandages. Everything she sniffed and threw aside because it didn’t smell like food. (if: $burn is true)[You already know how she got that burn. She got it pulling you out.](else:)[It’s the kind of burn you’d get from walking into a fire.] Helping her would mean getting close. Reaching out. Touching a wound on something with teeth like hers. [[Pick up the burn gel and offer her your hand->Treat Her Hand]] [[Stay where you are. Leave her be.->Leave Her Be]] [[While she’s distracted, edge toward the tunnel->Edge Away]](if: $flare is true)[ [[While she’s distracted, aim the flare gun at her->Aim the Flare]]]

(if: $flare is true)[(set: $threat to (max: 0, $threat - 2), $flare to false, $disarmed to true)](set: $bond to $bond + 1, $tended to true, $threat to (max: 0, $threat - 1), $appeal to (max: 0, $appeal - 1))<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-soft.png" alt="Astrea lets you hold her burned hand"> (if: $disarmed is true)[First, you set the flare gun down on the stone, slowly, where she can see it, and push it away from you. She watches it skid out of reach. Then she looks at you, and for a long moment she doesn’t look anywhere else. ]You pick up the tube of burn gel and hold out your other hand, palm up. Waiting. She stares at your open hand for a long time. Then, so slowly it seems to cost her something, she lays her burned hand in yours. Her skin is hot. Hotter than a person’s. You can feel her pulse racing under it, fast as a bird’s. She’s frightened, you realize. Of you. Of this. You spread the gel as gently as you can. She hisses through her fangs, and her free hand flexes, and for one awful second you think this is it— Then the cool of the gel takes hold, and she lets out a long, shuddering breath. “...Oh,” she says quietly. //When you finish wrapping the bandage, she doesn’t pull her hand away. Not right away.// [[...->Signal]]

<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-neutral.png" alt="Astrea turns away, unreadable"> You stay where you are. It’s her wound, and those are her teeth, and you don’t know the rules here. She tends it herself like an animal would: lick, flinch, lick again. Once she glances over at you, and there’s a look on her face you can’t place. Expectation, maybe. Or disappointment. Then it’s gone, and she turns her back to you, curled around her hurt hand. //Nothing bad happened. You’re fairly sure nothing bad happened.// [[...->Signal]]

(set: $threat to $threat + 1, $appeal to $appeal + 1)<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-suspicious.png" alt="Astrea listens without turning around"> While she’s hunched over her hand, you start inching toward the tunnel. One careful shift at a time, dragging the splinted leg as quietly as you can. You’ve made it about a body-length when you realize the licking has stopped. She hasn’t turned around. She doesn’t need to. Her head is cocked, listening, the same way it was when she listened to the recorder. “Mayday,” she says softly, without looking at you. “Where are you going?” You stop moving. //She goes back to her hand. She doesn’t say anything else. But from then on, she sits between you and the tunnel.// [[...->Signal]]

<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-startled.png" alt="Astrea, lit red, afraid"> You bring the flare gun up and level it at her. She looks at the barrel. She doesn’t know what it is. But she knows what it *means*: the way you’re holding it, the way your breathing has changed. “Don’t,” you hear yourself say. “Don’t come any closer, or I’ll—” She’s already moving. You pull the trigger anyway. The flare goes wide and screams off the ceiling in a shower of red sparks, and the whole den lights up like the inside of a wound. Like the fire. Like the fire all over again. The last thing you see clearly is her face in that red light. She isn’t angry. She’s *afraid.* [[...->Quick]]

<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-startled.png" alt="Astrea stares at the beacon, alarmed"> You’re drifting toward sleep when the beacon speaks. <span class="radio">“—Tallow, this is rescue vessel Ambrose. We have your signal. Hold position. We’ll be on the ground at first light. Repeat, first light. Ambrose out.”</span> A second voice mutters something in the background. A third one laughs. Then static. She’s on her feet before the static ends. Every line of her body has gone rigid. She stares at the beacon like it has grown teeth. “More,” she breathes. “More of you. Many. Coming *here.*” She snatches it up, and her fingers tighten around the casing until the plastic creaks. “The box calls them. To my den.” Her eyes find yours in the dark, wide and wild. “*You* called them.” One more squeeze and it will shatter. [[“They’re coming for me. Not for you.”->The Truth]] [[Lunge for the beacon->Grab]] [[“Please don’t break it. Please—”->Plead]](if: $flare is true)[ [[Point the flare gun at her->Aim the Flare]]]

(set: $bond to $bond + 1, $threat to (max: 0, $threat - 1), $appeal to (max: 0, $appeal - 1))<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-soft.png" alt="Astrea lowers the beacon, her hand shaking"> “They’re not coming for you,” you say. You keep your voice level, even with your heart going like a hammer. “They’re coming for me. To take me home. They don’t even know you’re here.” “They will see me.” “Not if I tell them not to look.” The beacon creaks in her grip. She stares at you. “Why,” she says slowly, “would you do that?” (if: $burn is true or $tended is true)[You think about the bone splint on your leg. The burn on her hand. “Because you didn’t let me burn.”](else:)[You think about the bone splint on your leg. Three nights of things in the dark that she made leave. “Because you could have eaten me three days ago. And you didn’t.”] //The beacon doesn’t shatter. She lowers it, very slowly. Her hand is shaking.// [[...->Dawn]]

(set: $threat to $threat + 2)<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-snarl.png" alt="Astrea snarls, pinning you down"> You lunge for it. You never get close. She’s faster than anything you’ve ever seen. One moment the beacon is right in front of you; the next it’s held high out of reach, and her other hand is pinning your shoulder to the stone hard enough to hurt. Her snarl fills the whole den. Her fangs are an inch from your face. “*Mine*,” she hisses. “My den. My box. My—” She stops. Breathing hard. The pressure on your shoulder eases, but it doesn’t go away. //You can see her decide something about you, right there behind her eyes. You just don’t know what.// [[...->Dawn]]

(set: $appeal to $appeal + 2)<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-hungry.png" alt="Astrea stares at you, licking her lips"> “Please, please don’t, that’s my only way home, please—” You’re crying. You didn’t decide to. It’s just happening, hot and humiliating, your voice going thin and high. Her whole posture changes when she hears it. Her grip on the beacon loosens, though it has nothing to do with what you said. She’s stopped thinking about the beacon at all. She’s looking at you. At your wet face. Your shaking hands. //She licks her lips.// [[...->Dawn]]

<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-neutral.png" alt="Astrea holds the beacon in her lap"> Neither of you sleeps. Near dawn, the light in the walls begins to fade, and a thin grey glow creeps in from the mouth of the tunnel. Somewhere out there, a ship is coming. She sits with the beacon cradled in her lap, its red light blinking against her fingers. She hasn’t spoken in a long time. Finally, she looks up. “Things that fight me are threat,” she says. “Things that run from me are food. Everything else is nothing.” Her voice is quiet. Tired. “I do not know what you are. Three days, I try to know.” She holds up the beacon. “So. Tell me. What are you, to me?” [[“Crew.”->Answer Crew]](if: $meaning is true)[ [[“Mayday.”->Answer Mayday]]] [[“I’m dangerous. So are they. Hurt me, and they’ll burn this place down.”->Threaten]] [[“I’m nothing. Please. Just let me go.”->Nothing]]

(set: $answer to "mayday", $bond to $bond + 2)<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-neutral.png" alt="Astrea goes very still"> You look at her, and at the beacon in her hands, and you say the only word you have that means exactly what you need it to. “Mayday.” She goes very still. It isn’t your name anymore. She knows what it means. *Help me.* You said it to the sky three days ago, and the sky never answered. You’re saying it to her now. For a long, long moment, she doesn’t move at all. [[...->Fate]]

(set: $answer to "crew", $bond to $bond + 1)<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-neutral.png" alt="Astrea considers the word"> “The box says it,” you tell her. “*All crew, brace for impact.* You’ve heard it.” She nods, slowly. “Crew means the people you look after. The ones you don’t leave behind, even when it’s hard. Even when it’s dangerous.” You swallow. “You set my leg. You kept things away from me for three nights. Where I come from, there’s a word for someone who does that.” She turns it over in silence. You can almost see her trying to fit it against everything she knows. Threat. Food. Nothing. It doesn’t fit anywhere. Maybe that’s the point. [[...->Fate]]

<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-snarl.png" alt="Astrea’s pupils shrink to slits"> “I’m dangerous,” you tell her, as hard as you can make it. “And so are they. You hurt me, and the people on that ship will burn this whole place to the ground.” It’s a bluff. Mostly. But one word lands harder than the rest. *Burn.* (if: $tended is true)[Her bandaged hand](else:)[Her burned hand] curls tight against her chest. Her pupils shrink to slits. “Threat,” she says quietly. Like a door closing. [[...->Quick]]

(set: $answer to "nothing", $appeal to $appeal + 3)<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-neutral.png" alt="Astrea tilts her head, studying you"> “I’m nothing,” you whisper. “I’m nobody. Please. Just let me go.” You hear how it sounds. Thin. *Small.* She hears it too. Her head tilts, slowly, the way it did when she listened to the recorder, and she studies your face like the answer is written on it somewhere. “Nothing,” she repeats softly. [[...->Fate]]

{(if: $threat >= 3 and $appeal >= 3)[(goto: "Standoff")] (else-if: $threat >= 5)[(goto: "Too Dangerous")] (else-if: $appeal >= 5)[(goto: "Too Soft")] (else-if: $bond >= 4 and $threat <= 1 and $appeal <= 1 and $answer is not "nothing")[(goto: "Answered")] (else:)[(goto: "Nothing Can Go")]}

<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-snarl.png" alt="Astrea’s face hardens into a snarl"> For a moment, it almost works. You can see her wanting it to. See her leaning toward your words like something starved for warmth. But she’s been watching you for a long time now. She’s watched what your hands do. What they reach for. How they close. Her face changes. Slowly, and then all at once. “No,” she says. “I know what you are.” The growl starts deep in her chest. [[...->Quick]]

<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-hungry.png" alt="Astrea smiles hungrily"> For a moment, it almost works. Her head tilts, and something in her face softens. But she’s heard your voice go thin and high and break. She’s watched you shrink into the stone, making yourself small. Making yourself *soft.* Her nostrils flare. Her pupils swell black. (if: $answer is "nothing")[“No,” she says softly. “Not nothing.” She’s smiling now. “*Food.*”](else:)[“Oh, Mayday,” she says, almost fondly. “I know what you are.” She’s never sounded gentler.] [[...->Tender]]

<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-snarl.png" alt="Astrea lunges at you"> You don’t see her move. Nothing that fast should be able to exist. One moment she’s across the den. The next, the world is stone and weight and the hot flash of her fangs, and there’s no time for fear, and there’s no time for anything— It’s quick. She makes sure it’s quick. [[...->Threat]]

Afterward, she sits for a long time with your flight recorder in her lap. She plays it until the battery dies. <span class="radio">“—mayday, mayday, mayday—”</span> No one comes. No one ever does. <div class="ending" data-ending="Threat"><p class="ending-name">Threat</p><p class="ending-hint">You looked like you’d bite back, so she didn’t wait to find out.</p></div> [[Return to title->Title]]

<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-hungry.png" alt="Astrea, close, her mouth opening"> Her weight settles over you, unhurried. There’s no need to hurry now. Her hand cradles the back of your head, careful, almost tender, like she’s afraid of dropping something precious. Her breath is warm against your face. Her mouth opens, and keeps opening, and the blue light glints along every one of her teeth— You close your eyes. She was very, very hungry. [[...->Prey]]

<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-soft.png" alt="Astrea, content and full"> Later, warm and full for the first time in days, she curls up among her collection and sleeps. When the rescue ship lands at first light, they find the wreck. They search the valley for two days. They never find the den. <div class="ending" data-ending="Prey"><p class="ending-name">Prey</p><p class="ending-hint">You made it too easy.</p></div> [[Return to title->Title]]

<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-neutral.png" alt="Astrea watches you from the mouth of the tunnel"> She doesn’t answer. She just looks at you, for a long time. At the hands that grabbed. At the voice that begged. At the thing that snapped at her and then cowered. You watch her try to fit you into a shape. Threat. Food. Nothing. You don’t fit. You never did. So she does the only thing left. She closes her fist around the beacon until it cracks, and the red light goes out. Then she goes to the mouth of the tunnel, and she sits down in it. Watching you. [[...->Vigil]]

Outside, you hear the rescue ship arrive. You hear them call your name across the valley. Your real one. You hear them searching, long after they should have given up. You hear them leave. She never looks away. She’s still watching when the light in the walls fades for the night. And the next night. And the next. She has all the time in the world. You don’t. <div class="ending" data-ending="Vigil"><p class="ending-name">Vigil</p><p class="ending-hint">She never figured out what you were. Neither did you.</p></div> [[Return to title->Title]]

<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-neutral.png" alt="Astrea, unreadable, weighing the beacon"> (if: $answer is "nothing")[She looks at you for a long time. Then she nods, once. “Yes,” she says. “Not food. Not threat. Nothing.” She weighs the beacon in her hand.](else:)[She turns your answer over for a long time. You watch it fail to fit. “I do not know what you are,” she says at last. “But you are not food. You are not threat.” She weighs the beacon in her hand. “So. You are nothing.”] Before you can say anything, she hauls you up over her shoulder, splinted leg and all, and carries you out through the tunnel into thin grey light. She sets you down on a ridge above the valley, where the wreck of your ship is still smoking. Sets the beacon down beside you. Steps back. “Nothing can go,” she says. “Do not come back. Tell them this place has teeth.” Then she’s gone. Far off, the rescue ship is already on approach, the engines a low rattle off the rock. [[...->Truce]]

They get you home. When the medics ask about the bone splint, you tell them you found it. Nobody asks twice. Months later, a survey team goes back to catalogue the wreck. Their report notes one anomaly: an animal call in the hills at night, which the audio technician swears is a human voice. It’s *your* voice. Saying one word, over and over. <span class="radio">“—mayday, mayday, mayday—”</span> You never go back. You never find out whether she was calling for you, or just practicing. <div class="ending" data-ending="Truce"><p class="ending-name">Truce</p><p class="ending-hint">You survived. You just never became anything to her.</p></div> [[Return to title->Title]]

<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-soft.png" alt="Astrea, softened, holding the beacon"> (if: $answer is "mayday")[“Help me,” she says quietly. “You say it to the sky, and the sky does not come.” She looks at you. “I came.”](else:)[“Crew,” she says quietly, turning the word over. “The ones you do not leave behind.” She looks at you for a long time. “I did not leave you in the fire.”] She lifts the beacon to her mouth, the way she must have heard you do it on the recording a hundred times, and presses the button. When she speaks, it’s in your voice. Perfect. Steady. Nothing like the frantic thing on the tape. <span class="mimic">“Ambrose, this is Tallow. Crew is hurt. Leg is broken. Come to the ridge above the fire. Come carefully.”</span> She lets go of the button. Then, in her own voice, low and very quiet: “If they come for more than you, I will know.” [[...->The Ridge]]

<img class="portrait" src="images/astrea-soft-dawn.png" alt="Astrea crouches beside you in the dawn light"> She carries you out herself, up through the tunnel and into the thin grey light of dawn, and sets you down on the ridge above the wreck, gentle as anything. Far off, engines are rolling across the valley like thunder. She should go. You both know it. She crouches beside you instead, (if: $tended is true)[her bandaged hand resting on her knee](else:)[her burned hand held close]. “What do I call you?” you ask. “You never told me.” She makes a sound that isn’t really a word. It’s like wind across stone. Like something falling from very high up. You try to repeat it. What comes out is: “...Astrea?” She considers this. Then, gravely: “Close enough.”(if: $named is true)[ A pause. “Now we are even.” And then she says your name. Your real one. She gets it right.] (if: $rations is true)[Before she goes, she presses something into your hand: the ration bar you offered her, rewrapped, badly, in its foil. “For the ship,” she says, with deep disapproval. “Is not food.” ]The engines are close now. She rises. “Copy?” she asks.(if: $copy is true)[ The first word you ever said to each other.] “...Copy.” And then she’s gone into the rocks, and the rescue ship is setting down in a storm of dust and light, and people are running toward you, calling your name. [[...->Crew]]

They ask what happened to you. You tell them about the crash, and the fire. You tell them you set your leg yourself, with whatever you could find. You never tell them about her. But some nights, you tune an old radio to the emergency channel and leave it running. Just in case some other world out past the charts ever needs to call for help. You’d come. She already knows that. That’s what crew does. <div class="ending" data-ending="Crew"><p class="ending-name">Crew</p><p class="ending-hint">She had no word for what you were. So you gave her one.</p></div> [[Return to title->Title]]