Birdie’s voice bounced off the satellites and pierced through the static of space. “Did you bring marshmallows?”

Cordelia bit her lip. She liked to maintain a very precise tone over her official transmissions, so she ignored the question. “I’m holding a steady orbit, no decrease in vectors, a stable drift is manageable.” She’d sent back the preliminary results of her latest scan. The planet far below was Cinder class; seas of magma and mountains of glass that had led to all sorts of wry comments from Birdie. Ways of dealing with a spectacle she’d never get close enough to see.

“What does it look like? Without hyperbole.”

Cordelia got some soup from the processor and blew on it. The other woman’s voice was the only one she heard regularly. It’d been over a year since she’d had more than two conversations with anyone else. She never let it show in her voice, but she looked forward to each conversation, mindless as they often became. Without updates, or meaningful data, there was only dead air. That phrase didn’t exist to Birdie, fortunately. 

“You still there?”

Cordelia sighed. “Let me blow on my soup.” 

There was a rustle in the static. It took Cordelia a moment to realise it was laughter. She tried not to smile. 

“What have we got today?” The voice sounded softer, more patient. 

“Tomato, some hint of chicken, some garlic.”

“Uh-huh. What does it taste like?”

Spoon paused to her lip, Cordelia hesitated. “Delicious, of course. You know I’ve got only the best re-cuisines.”

The static trembled. A sigh? “I swear, you have no sense of humour.”

Cordelia looked out to the Venture’s main display. From this angle, her view was an eternity of stars. Sometimes it overwhelmed her with its beauty, other times it made her want to bury her head under a pillow and push it away. They said people got a weird sense of humour, the further out they went. Some people came back with none at all. Space never left you, once it got in. Like a sailor who’d nearly drowned and could never get his legs back on dry land.

“Cordelia?” 

She’d been quiet for too long. It rattled her a little that Birdie was able to pick up the slightest hint of tension. “I’m here. Just thinking.”

“What are you thinking about?” 

She’d been posted out here for eighteen months, and had another eighteen before the survey was done. Then it would be back to deep sleep, back home to a world that would have moved on. Part of her had accepted that disconnect, that isolating condition. She’d been accepted because she’d passed the psych tests better than anyone else. This kind of solitude had appealed to her, something about the awesome scale involved. She felt like a pioneer. At first she’d felt bold, she’d liked the silence. 

But the silence never went away. 

Odd thought, that. One she couldn’t unravel fully. “I don’t know,” she said, answering eventually. “Just tired.”

“How are you feeling? It’s a long time to be out there. Remember, I’m here to talk about anything. I mean that.”

Cordelia nodded, then realised the gesture was lost. “I’m fine. Just feeling a little...” What was the right word? Did she even need to provide one? She faltered for a moment. “A little small, today. Just a little small.”

That felt right. She guessed. 

Birdie’s voice was softer than ever. “Which is why I wish you’d tell me more about the planet. In your words. Articulate it. Put your thoughts in order. Beat the absence.”

The absence? The word momentarily overpowered her. Cordelia dunked some bread cubes in her soup. “Sure. Just not today, okay?”

The static vibrated for a moment. Sadly, it seemed. Jesus, was she reading emotion into pauses now?

“Okay. I’m always here.”

Cordelia stared back at the stars, there was a light haze in the corner of the screen, atmospheric indication of the planet below. Everything fought for her attention, and nothing won. 

-

They’d called it Inferno, long before anyone had been able to detect the fine silvery rings that surrounded it. It had been a striking reveal, nobody had expected the world to yield any beauty. It was supposed to be a violent red rock, empty and hateful. The contrast had always appealed to Cordelia, it had a hidden face, ready to be unveiled. A mystery. Every thousand years there was a shift in the planet’s electromagnetic field, it was the mission to study this event as much as the rings.

It was a post she’d pursued, almost recklessly. 

She took pride, that everything here had been uncertain, until her craft took its orbit. Her probes had brought back the first truly precise data about the rings. She’d discovered early on that the vast rings were entirely comprised of millions of small silver orbs. It was astounding. There had been no previous indication they were artificial, it was a huge breakthrough. Oddly, the thing she remembered most vividly from when she’d first sent her findings back, was the volume in Birdie’s voice. Such an intense day. So much speculation confounded with only more speculation. Still, she’d been the one, the one who’d sent back the first solid data. 

“They might call them Cordelia’s rings,” Birdie had said. She’d sounded so happy for her. Cordelia had just been tired. Thinking back, she wished she could have bounced that excitement back, shared it more. But space was space.

During her first scan, she’d discovered the orbs were hollow. She remembered the mission she’d undertaken to get one of them on board. This was a one person expedition, if anything had gone wrong, no one would have been able to back her up. A probe had singled out a rogue orb, and she’d suited up to dislodge it and bring it inside. She’d taken the precaution to dissect it in the airlock. Took her an hour to get her hands under control. Wasn’t like her to get nervous. 

A laser scalpel had opened it up, its smooth surface splitting like a chrome apple. The only thing inside the silver orb was a small pile of equally silver powder. 

“Ash,” Birdie had said, giving her the findings over an explanatory transmission from the homeworld. “The orbs are full of ash. Though how they ended up becoming the rings of an alien world is beyond us. What do you think’s their story?”

Cordelia wasn’t one to speculate. “I’ll need to go out again, get more data.” They needed more samples to study. No one could prepare a theory without more information. She didn’t want to disrupt the rings, she’d have to navigate precisely. It would take a little time. She rubbed her face. “Are they frustrated?”

Birdie’s voice was soft again. “With what?”

“Me.”

“Of course not. You’ve done amazing work.”

She continued speaking, but Cordelia just called up a flight plan, and began to work a careful path into the next ring. Maybe the orbs closer to the planet were older? They would create an interesting contrast either way. 

“Are you listening?” Birdie’s voice seemed suddenly sharp, cutting through her preparations.

“I’m busy. I need to get a sample from one of the deeper rings. It might tell us everything.”

Birdie’s voice was calm, soothing, she might as well have been in the cabin with her. “I want you to know that everyone is satisfied—delighted—with your progress. There’s no need to push yourself. Not for anything, certainly not for anyone here.”

Staring out into the field of stars, Cordelia wondered what sort of descent pattern would be safest, under the circumstances? She had to be safe, relatively, there was no support. But if she cut the thrusters strategically, she could skim one ring, and clip through to the next... How close should she go? 

“Thank you, Birdie,” she said, trying to make her voice as soft as the other woman’s. “That means a lot.”

There was a short pause. “Cordelia? Don’t push yourself.”

“I won’t. I’m fine. I just want to know what they are.”

The static trembled for a second. Was there a brief sound in there somewhere? A snort? A brief laugh? What would either mean? She wondered if Birdie was ever tired of handling her? She always sounded a little younger. Cordelia wondered if they’d be the same age by the time she got back? 

What did it matter?

“They’ve probably been there for thousands of years,” Birdie continued. “There’s no rush. We’ll be poring over this information for years as it is.”

“But the information’s incomplete.”

Birdie was quiet for a moment. “What are you going to do?”

Cordelia leaned towards the terminal. “Excuse me, I have to go.” 

She cut the signal.

-

Inferno had only one Moon, a pockmarked husk that had probably been thrown away from the planet millennia before. The Venture took up a lazy orbit around it, while Cordelia drew up experimental flight simulations. She didn’t want to rush, but she didn’t know how to put off the inevitable. 

Birdie’s voice was drifting in and out of her attention, a protracted conversation had moved away from energy conservation into other areas. 

“So she only met him ten months ago, now they’re getting married. I mean, I love her, of course, I totally respect her judgement, she’s my sister; but what can you say? I don’t like regrets. I see people dragging them around with them, and it’s awful. You tear your hair out and they don’t notice. Not that they should. I’m just worrying over nothing. Nice enough guy. Is nice enough, though? What do you think?” 

Cordelia liked having Birdie’s voice in the background, it had become comfortable, reassuring. She looked up, startled, when it stopped. “About what?”

An all too familiar sound trembled in the static. “Never mind.”

Cordelia had been sketching, a notebook was open in her lap. It was all freehand, just lines and patterns. It was soothing, free of all other concerns. She dragged her thoughts back into the room. “Just let her go,” she said. “It’s love. It will be what it will be.”

There was a long enough pause for her to wonder if the message hadn’t been received, but then Birdie’s voice responded. “I guess.” There was another odd pause. “It’s weird, I feel like I’m further away from her than you, how’d that happen?”

“Is she still on Earth?”

“Yes Cordelia, she’s still on Earth.” 

Cordelia could almost sense the frown behind the tone. She smiled, she didn’t share much of herself, but found that she liked hearing more about Birdie’s life, about the people in it. “Can’t remember the last time I went to a wedding. I can’t even get my head around that many people existing at once.” An odd point, but she felt it to be true. The stars and the void between them were realer than anything else right now. 

Birdie picked up on it, as she always did. “You’ll be back before you know it.”

“Mmm.” Cordelia could only make a vague assent. She didn’t know how that idea made her feel. Did it make her feel anything at all? Did prolonged space travel empty people out, begin some strange transfusion of that same void...?

She shivered. “Throw something at her for me.”

“What?”

“You know, confetti.”

Birdie laughed. Always a good sound, this far out. 

Cordelia absorbed it, then returned to her sketch. It was the planet’s rings, she realised. Of course. What else? 

-

Diving through Inferno’s silver rings, Cordelia began work on her final analysis. Beyond discovering whatever information she could, her attention had become focused towards the imminent electromagnetic shift. She was curious as to what effect this phenomenon would have on the rings, if any. 

Back home the event hadn’t been overly emphasised, it was seen as an oddity, a curiosity, but to her it had always seemed like more. 

Her craft was gliding closer than she’d ever dared get before. Inferno wasn’t habitable, she found even staring at the surface made her uneasy. The whole thing was fire and dust. Maybe bacteria had tested its endurance, maybe some pools of water had flirted somewhere with indulging life; but nothing down there stirred, never had nor would. It was like a large crater, an entire world turned into a wound. She wondered how old it was? How long had it been burning? How long would it take for the raging fires to dim? 

Moving the Venture back to a safer distance, she began scanning, and waited for the great shift to come. She’d get as many readings as she could, then get some more orbs as samples on her way back out. 

She took the time to collect her thoughts, to dwell on the bizarre and brutally dead world she’d come to. The rings clearly weren’t natural, that was what fascinated her the most. Who had put them into place, and why here? Around this cauldron of a world? Had there been life here once, somehow? Had it left something behind? 

She turned her attention to the tactical displays, the fluctuations from the planet were accelerating. The readings were extraordinary. She was so intent on these, she didn’t even notice the new arrivals until they appeared. 

Looking up suddenly, she saw a convoy of silver crafts flinching out of hyperspace. She watched, stunned. She didn’t recognise their kind at all. They were sleek, functional, like blades of light. Their subtle designs caught her breath. They came to a stop and just waited. Some of them might have been here already, at rest they looked as patient as the stars. Her hand instantly went to send out a signal, try to warn them about the fluctuations, but she froze. Something told her whatever she was about to tell them, they already knew.

Her mind raced. Grasping. Had the orbs been left here? Or sent here? There was clearly some kind of purpose to this, possibly one that was ceremonial? Her excitement wavered, she wasn’t supposed to be here, drifting in the rings. What would they do if they saw her? 

“Birdie... Something’s happening here. Can anyone hear me?” She opened a frequency, but there would be no time for any advice, any assistance. Besides, with the density of the orbs, the changing fields, there was no way a clear signal would be received. 

The readings began fluctuating. The levels spiked with agitation, then went off the charts. The rings shivered and shimmied. As she watched, stunned, they began to disintegrate. The orbs, released from the force that had kept them together for so long, started to slowly fall towards the planet. Turning to another monitor she called up a closer visual, and watched on a tactical display as the orbs melted, and the ashes inside scattered towards the surface like rain. On her atmospheric display the magnetic field extended, like fingers reaching up to catch the ashes. Like a hand collecting them. Taking them where?

The ashes began dancing in the waves of energy. They were changing. Whether they were burning, or sparking into new patterns of matter, she couldn’t tell. Wisps of these streaked away, scorching across the sky, as if with purpose...  Cordelia felt a shiver run up her spine. This wasn’t hell, it just looked like it. Perhaps this furnace was some vast engine of renewal? Some catharsis for rebirth? Could this ceremony, occurring every thousand years, perhaps, be spiritual in design? 

Reaching out, she killed the feed, and turned away. 

Her mind was reeling. This would be a fascinating study. The information she was collating would create endless fascination in this sector, generate a whole new way of understanding it, her department would fund her for years-

But this, whatever it was, was private. 

Cordelia pulled the Venture away, and followed a discrete vector off into the starways. She didn’t want to intrude any more than she already had. She didn’t need to witness the rest, or try to understand it. Not like this, at least.

After she put an asteroid belt between her and Inferno, she got a response to her last message from Birdie. “Is everything alright? Did you burn the marshmallows?”

Hearing her voice, Cordelia couldn’t resist a smile. “The ship’s fine, just got a little too close-”

Birdie sounded rattled. “I’m worried about you, not the ship.”

“It’s okay. I just... Well, I’ll make a report.” That was vague, but she wasn’t sure what to say yet.

There was a pause. “Cordelia... Are you alright out there?” Birdie rarely used her name. That was odd, really. At some point they’d stopped using names, they just talked naturally, just responded to each other. It was hard to think how separate they physically were. 

Cordelia watched her scanner, the convoy was still holding position around Inferno. They were a little paler than the stars around them, holding some solemn pause. They were so small, and yet she felt even smaller. 

“You know what I miss right now, Birdie? There’s a cafe down a side street in east London, has this little table outside. Does a beautiful espresso. Tastes just right as the world slowly drips past. I’d sit outside there on rainy days. There’s that smell of ozone, like a hit of the world...” She sighed, what the hell was she talking about?

Birdie’s voice crackled. “When you get back, we’ll have to get a drink. Just the two of us. I’d like that. Did we ever meet, before the launch?”

It was all a bit of a blur to Cordelia, thinking back. “No, I don’t think we did.”

“Well, if it gets weird out there, if you feel too far out, just re-cuisine a coffee and picture us sitting outside some perfect little place. Think of that drink, and we’ll get it when you get back. Okay?”

“I’d like that.” She didn’t know what more to say. For some reason this yawning distance had brought them closer. 

Space, it did things. 

-

The Venture drifted quietly at a distance, and Cordelia watched the strange convoy as it blinked out of the sector as quickly as it had arrived. She stared at empty space for a while, then she began composing her last message. She would send it before going into cryo-sleep. She’d leave them to ponder it as she made her way back to sol. 

“This is Cordelia Banks, final update. Inferno is to be avoided. The field changes are unstable, and interfere with the ship’s core systems. They’re highly dangerous and unpredictable. I’m returning home for urgent maintenance.”

She set the co-ordinates then sat back. It felt appropriate, though she’d have to make a full report at some point. Perhaps she should have stayed, got more data, more numbers for the people back home to pore over. Then she thought of Corderlia’s rings. 

She felt herself worrying about things that felt like they no longer mattered, so she called up a coffee, and blew on it as she watched the planet recede. Had the orbs contained ashes, or seeds? Could one be the other on some worlds?

Cordelia left behind a garden made of fire, and wondered what would grow.