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Sazahk decided he was more relieved than disappointed when Garin packed up his stuff the next morning and followed Sazahk west without a word.
On one hand, being free to pursue his own research how he saw fit with no need to fend off meddling would have been nice. On the other, Patrick would have had his head for recklessness and Sazahk didn’t want to deal with that either. And, of course, he supposed, the Dead Zone could be dangerous and terrain with high geothermal activity was more dangerous still and a second person did significantly reduce the risk of serious injury and death.
Not that Sazahk would admit that to Garin.
The man had a hugely inflated sense of his own importance, as it was. Did he think everyone around him would throw their lives away if he didn’t hound them every second of every day? How did Dom breathe under that oppression?
Sazahk’s scar twinged, and he clenched his fist around the sleeve of his shirt to keep from rubbing it. He felt Garin’s eyes on him and he didn’t want the human to see the straight line of scar tissue at the base of his skull. The man didn’t need another reason to see him as weak and dysfunctional.
“Looks like we’re closing in on your hot springs.” Garin pointed with his chin to the horizon, where billows of steam peeked out from over the ridge ahead.
Sazahk’s heart skipped at the snaking plumes. “Steam like that means there could be more than hot springs. There could be mud pots, fumaroles, maybe even geysers. None of those things support the sort of life a hot spring might, but they’re still fascinating geological formations. It might spur Qeshian geologists to visit and the more scientific interest in the Dead Zone, the better. We’ve ignored it for far too long.”
Sazahk’s fingers turned gray with self-consciousness when Garin huffed a laugh and he tangled them in front of his body to hide them. Garin didn’t reply other than that, but he didn’t sneer either. He sped up to match Sazahk’s pace, loping along easily under his massive pack. In his defense, he’d never sneered at Sazahk. Argued plenty, but never sneered. That was more than could be said for some people Sazahk had had the displeasure of working with.
Despite how near the ridge looked, the sky darkened before they began their ascent.
Garin dropped his pack when they crested a mound. “We’ll make camp here.”
“We can’t go a little farther?” Sazahk stopped at the edge of the plateau and stared up the hill.
“And risk breaking an ankle in the dark?” Garin began meticulously picking rocks out of a two-by-six spot on the ground like the night before. “No.”
“The sun’s barely set. This isn’t dark.” Sazahk knew Garin was right. The risk-reward analysis had a clear outcome.
“The hot springs aren’t going anywhere.” Garin pried a particularly pointy rock out of the ground and smoothed out the hole. “And you’ll be able to see them better in the morning, anyway.”
“We have flashlights.” Sazahk dropped his pack on the other side of the mound top from Garin, despite his arguing. It was only their second day. He had at least twenty-six more. But impatience still had him picking at the loose thread on his pack’s left strap.
“We should save the batteries for when we actually need them.” Garin rolled out his sleeping bag, then walked around the perimeter of the camp, picking up twigs and sticks.
Sazahk crossed his arms over his knees and watched him. “They’re solar-powered.”
“There’s no sunlight in caves.”
Sazahk pressed his lips together. Garin had him there. Not that Sazahk had been advocating for using the flashlights and climbing the ridge, anyway. He’d already sat down. But he’d still fought for the last word like his brother would have.
Blue crawled up the back of Sazahk’s hands. He really had lost his way if he was acting like his brother.
Garin glanced at him and Sazahk quickly willed the colors away. Just as quickly, Garin dropped to his haunches and ducked his head as he built up a little pile of twigs.
Sazahk scrutinized his body language with narrowed eyes. He knew Garin walked on eggshells around him, afraid to set off another argument. The best defense being a good offense wasn’t a philosophy Sazahk normally ascribed to, but with men like Garin, men used to telling other people what to do, throwing their weight around, and getting their way, it was the best he’d come up with.
He wouldn’t let men with agendas derail him again.
His scar throbbed and he dug his fingertips into his elbows.
Garin sat back when his little pile caught ablaze and fed in the larger sticks he’d gathered as they’d hiked that day. He really was very good at fire-starting. Sazahk had assumed it was a dead skill in this day and age. Surely solar-powered space heaters existed, though he supposed they’d have had to carry those, and his bag was bursting at the seams as it was.
“How many fires have you started in your life?”
Garin’s head popped up, eyebrows raising either in surprise at the question or surprise that Sazahk was addressing him at all. “In my life?”
“Yes.” Sazahk tilted his head as he studied Garin’s rough hands and rangy body. The jaw of his narrow face had darkened with stubble over the last couple of days. “I’ve started exactly zero fires and I’m sure that’s the median number of fires started by all sentient individuals in the sector. Who needs to start fires these days?”
“People traveling through places they shouldn’t be,” Garin chuckled. He shuffled back to sit on his sleeping bag and unpacked two ration bars. “I’ve built too many to count, but since the Human government has a record of every training exercise and mission I’ve ever been on, you could probably estimate based on mission type, environment, and days deployed.”
“I’m told most of your record is redacted.” Sazahk tried to catch the bar Garin tossed him, but it bounced off his fingers and fell to the ground. Garin laughed, but there wasn’t any mockery in the sound.
