Tinman, Chapter 16 Cass stirred from her slumber, the gentle sway of the boat a silent whisper to her senses that they were underway. With sleep still clinging to the edges of her consciousness, she slipped from beneath the cocoon of her blankets and set her feet on the cool floor. The darkness enfolded her, familiar and comforting, as she navigated the narrow corridor by memory alone. She was almost to the bathroom when Draco's voice, low and urgent, halted her mid-step. "Don't turn any lights on." Her hand paused in the air, inches from the switch. "What's happening?" she mumbled, her voice thick with the remnants of dreams not yet forgotten. In the blackness of the boat’s interior, only the sound of whispered words and the subtle creaking of timber underfoot punctuated the silence. Cass waited, her mind gradually sharpening as the fog of sleep retreated. Draco's voice cut through the still air, a conspiratorial whisper. "We're in stealth mode," he explained with a hint of excitement underlining his hushed tone. "Dad got what he needed from the Drone, and there’s no moon tonight. We’re slipping away while the cover of darkness hides the direction we went." Cass nodded, processing this new tidbit. She became acutely aware of the void around her; an absence of light so complete it seemed to swallow sound as well. The familiar creaks of the boat had guided her thus far, but now she noticed the blackness was total, uninterrupted by the usual soft glow of standby lights or the comforting lighthouse pulse of navigation screens. “Okay, you told me, now go away,” Cass insisted. Draco's presence hovered like a shadow near the door, his presence an unexpected obstacle in Cass’s nocturnal path. His query, innocent enough, floated towards her in the dark. “Why?” Draco asked, the word hanging between them like a drop of water clinging to a faucet, ready to fall. Cass shifted her weight from one foot to the other, “I’m not going to the bathroom with you sitting in front of the door,” she responded, her tone carrying the edge of assertiveness that came so naturally to her. In the confined space of the boat where every whisper could be a shout, her words seemed to echo off invisible walls, emphasizing the absurdity of the situation. Draco's stance changed, a swift acknowledgment of her protest, as he shuffled away, his movement a mere rustle against the backdrop of stealthy silence. "Fine, I'll go check on Dad," Draco grumbled, a hint of annoyance threading his voice as he relinquished his post by the door. His footsteps padded softly away, swallowed up by the boat's hush. Cass, seizing the privacy now afforded to her, tiptoed to the bathroom, her familiarity with the space guiding her in the absence of light. The routine was mechanical, practiced—a quick splash of water on her face, the faintest rustle of fabric—and then she made her quiet pilgrimage back to her bunk. The blankets, a jumble of texture and coolness against her skin, welcomed her as she collapsed into them. Her body molded into the mattress, and within moments, sleep claimed her, drawing her down into its depths with the ease of falling through water. Abruptly, sleep's tendrils loosened their grip. Cass stirred, a scraping sound prying her from the embrace of dreams. She lay still, listening. The familiar rock of the boat, a gentle cadence that had become her nightly lullaby, was absent. Instead, there was an irregular stutter—a scrape and drag that spoke of the vessel's struggle against something unseen. She rubbed her eyes and pushed herself off the cot, her movements deliberate. She donned her clothes—a simple jumpsuit that bore the faint stains of countless adventures. With a swift tug, her hair was secured behind her head, a few rebellious strands framing her face. The corridor greeted Cass with silence as she made her way toward the helm. Up ahead, Sam's silhouette melded with the boat's console, his posture rigid, his eyes focused ahead. He seemed an extension of the vessel itself—steadfast and searching. Draco, positioned at the bow plunged a long pole into the murky depths, stirring circles that vanished as quickly as they appeared. The narrow creek cradled the boat, banks hugging the hull so close it seemed a whisper could set them crumbling. "Careful there," Sam's voice cut through the quiet, a warning to Draco as much as to the unyielding earth that pressed in from either side. With practiced grace, Cass navigated the swaying deck, securing her grip on a rail just as the boat lurched beneath her. The sudden jolt sent a ripple of alarm through her body; the vessel groaned, metal grinding against sand—the sound a tangible marker of their progress ceasing. Sam's proclamation shattered the tension. “That’s it, we’re not getting any further,” he called out, his voice carrying over the water with finality. Cass's fingers tightened around the railing, the cool metal grounding her as she absorbed the implications of their newfound obstacle. Draco's response pierced the silence, crisp against the sound of water lapping gently at the boat's sides. "Three feet," he called out, measuring the distance to the bottom. Sam nodded, his gaze lingering on the shadowed banks before turning to secure the wheel. His voice carried firm resolve as it echoed along the narrowing waterway. "That’ll do. Tie her off here." Cass bit her lip, her bright green eyes reflecting the dawning light as it began to creep over the Ares horizon. In this alien landscape, under a sky that never seemed quite right, she wondered if Sam ever wished for different—wished for a son instead of a daughter. But no, that was her insecurities speaking, wasn't it? Sam had always been there for her, always made her feel valued. Yet watching him now, so at ease with Draco, she couldn't shake the creeping doubt. "Morning pumpkin," Sam said suddenly, his voice breaking through her reverie. She blinked, turning to face him. His hazel eyes crinkled at the corners, a warm smile spreading across his features as he acknowledged her presence. It was a simple greeting, one devoid of any underlying regret or longing, just a father noticing his child. "Morning," Cass replied, the knot in her stomach easing as she returned his smile. Cass leaned over the edge of the boat, her ponytail dangling precariously close to the water's surface. She squinted at the murky depths below them, noting how the hull was now sitting on the silty bottom of the narrow creek. Her voice carried a tinge of concern as she asked, "Are we going to be able to get back out of here?" Sam stood by the control panel, his fingers resting lightly on the switches before he flicked them off, one by one. With each click, the low hum of machinery subsided until silence enveloped them—a silence that spoke volumes in the still Ares morning. He glanced over his shoulder at Cass, the corners of his eyes folding into a reassuring smile. "Not for the rest of the summer," he said, his voice steady and pragmatic. "In two weeks this creek will be dried up." Her eyes remained fixed on the narrowing channel behind them, imagining the path they had carved through the red Ares dust now closing in like a clasping hand. She could almost hear the soft sigh of water surrendering to the relentless sun, receding inch by inch. "But come fall," Sam continued, turning to face the horizon where the sun peeked above rusty dunes, casting a glow that seemed to promise renewal, "the rains will fill this creek and we’ll glide right on out. Until then," Sam added, a hint of adventure lighting up his hazel eyes, "we have work to do." Cass shifted her weight, considering the desolation that surrounded them. It was both ominous and exhilarating. "What are we going to do?" she asked, her voice echoing slightly against the boat's metal hull. Sam turned to her, the light of a new day reflecting in his thoughtful eyes. "We're going to turn necessity into opportunity," he said. "We'll use every skill we've honed, every bit of knowledge we possess, and we'll carve out our place here." His words carried not just a plan, but a promise—a promise of survival, of perseverance. "Here," he continued, crouching down to open a compartment at his feet, "we will find what we came for." Cass knelt beside him, watching as he extracted a set of weathered geological maps, their edges crinkled from use. The papers held stories, secrets of the soil beneath their feet—stories Cass yearned to uncover alongside her father. *** Sunlight spilled into the cabin as Cass cracked an egg over the skillet, its yolk a bright spot against the warm metal. The rich aroma of frying food mingled with the earthy scent of coffee that Sam had brewed, a comforting veil in the cool morning air. Draco was setting the center table, his movements methodically silent, each fork and knife placed with precision. "We'll discuss it over breakfast," Sam had said earlier, his voice steady as he busied himself with the stove. Now, they gathered around their meal, the silence filled with the sounds of nature outside—the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant call of some Ares bird. Cass took her seat, her body relaxing for the first time in days. They were safe, at least for now, and she could not help but smile at the semblance of normalcy. Draco's chuckles punctuated the quiet, his eyes crinkling with mirth as he accidentally squirted a packet of condiment too vigorously, the contents splattering like a tiny explosion of flavor across his plate. "Easy there, partner," Sam teased, his gaze warm with amusement. "We're in no rush to repaint the kitchen." Draco grinned sheepishly, wiping away the mess with a napkin. Cass observed the exchange and felt a bubble of laughter escape her lips. Here, amid the Ares wilderness, they found a moment of levity, a brief respite from their constant vigilance. Sam cleared his throat, bringing their attention back to the matter at hand. "Now, let's talk about our plans," he began, his expression growing serious once more. "We have to be smart about our resources and our time here." He laid out their roles with a geologist's precision, each task designed to capitalize on their individual strengths. Cass listened intently, nodding along as her responsibility unfolded—a challenge she accepted without hesitation. She caught Draco's eye, his youthful face set with newfound determination, and she knew they were both ready. "First things first," Sam continued. "We’ll need to secure the perimeter and ensure we're not visible from any approach. Safety is paramount. After that, we can start exploring the surrounding areas for mineral deposits." His hazel eyes met Cass's. "And we'll need your sharp eyes more than ever, Cass." "Got it," Cass responded, her voice solid with resolve. She had always been quick to learn, eager to absorb every detail of the world around her. This was her element, her chance to prove her mettle. "Great," Sam said, nodding approvingly. "After breakfast, we'll get started. This place," he gestured to the crude maps spread across the table, lines and symbols marking the richness hidden beneath them, "holds promise, but we’re short on time, and money. Losing the silver claim hurt us. We need to find a new claim, and fast." Sam set his coffee aside, the soft whir of the air ventilation a silent testament to their isolation. "First, the rules. Never leave a door or window open." Cass, leaning back with arms crossed, flicked a glance toward door and the pleasant Ares day outside. It was a shame to have to stay closed up, but it made sense, they didn’t want the wildlife getting inside. “We already know the rules," she said, her tone carrying a mix of exasperation and eagerness. "What are we doing?” The corners of Sam's mouth twitched, a fleeting hint of amusement at her spirited response. He appreciated Cass's hunger for action—how it mirrored the relentless drive that had brought them to this distant, unyielding land. He knew her capabilities well; she wasn't one to shy away from challenge or responsibility. “I’ll be heading out with the survey drone to search the area," Sam said, his voice steady but tinged with an undercurrent of urgency. He glanced up at Cass, the corners of his mouth lifting in a wry smile at her expectant stance. "You two are staying with the boat." “That doesn’t sound like any fun,” Cass said, her eyes narrowing with disappointment. Sam straightened, his gaze locking onto Cass's. A slight twinkle in his eye betrayed the solemnity of their previous discussion. "I have a surprise for you," he declared with an air of mystery. His boots thudded softly on the metal floor as he strode to a storage cupboard nestled in the corner of the cramped space. With practiced ease, he retrieved several unmarked boxes—plain, brown, and nondescript. He carried them back to the table where Cass sat, their edges knocking gently against each other with the rhythm of Sam's steps. Setting them down with care, the boxes seemed to invite curiosity, their contents hidden yet promising. Cass leaned forward, her gaze sharpening with intrigue. From the corner of his eye, Sam noticed Draco had taken his notebook, his pencil dancing over a page in swift, confident strokes–the conversation about boundaries of personal space forgotten. Sam's fingers worked deftly to loosen the tape sealing the box, his movements deliberate and precise. With a gentle tug, the flaps yielded, revealing an array of gleaming tools neatly packed within. He lifted each item, placing them on the table before Cass. "These are jewelry making tools," he explained with understated enthusiasm. "And all the supplies you will need to make necklaces and bracelets." He paused, his gaze meeting hers. "The only thing you will need to supply are the stones and gems." Cass peered at the spread with wide eyes, her breath catching in anticipation. The pliers, hammers, and clamps shone under the cabin's soft lighting, their metallic surfaces winking as though beckoning her to touch them. Rolls of wire lay coiled like silent serpents, awaiting her command to transform into art. "Wow," escaped from Cass's lips before she could rein it in—a high-pitched squeal that resonated with pure delight. She covered her mouth with her hand, cheeks flushing a shade rosier than the Ares dust outside their vessel. Sam watched, bemused by her reaction. Cass, normally so composed even in the face of excitement, was now bouncing on the balls of her feet, her green eyes reflecting the shimmer of newfound treasures. "Really?" Her voice still held the echo of surprise as she reached out tentatively, fingers grazing a spool of silver wire. "Really," Sam confirmed, warmth spreading through him at her unexpected joy. A smile tugged at his lips, the sight of her happiness igniting a sense of gratification deep within. It was moments like these—moments of unguarded enthusiasm—that reminded him why every risk they had taken was worth it. "Thank you, Sam," she said, her gratitude threaded with sincerity. He nodded, content in the knowledge that this small gesture meant more to her than he had anticipated. Perhaps it wasn't just the games at the Ares Dome that captivated her spirit; perhaps it was the simple act of creation, of bringing something beautiful into existence with her own hands. Cass's hands, nimble and precise, sifted through the cornucopia of tools sprawled across the table. Pliers, clasps, and lengths of chain glinted under the soft light as she unearthed them from their cardboard confines. Her voice carried a note of wonder mixed with a hint of reproach. "This is what I asked Santa for, but he didn't bring it," she said, her statement punctuated by the clatter of metal against wood as she laid out her newfound bounty. From across the table, Sam observed her, his expression one of mild perplexity. He watched the curl of her blonde ponytail bob with each movement, his gaze then settling on the small scar that marked her adventurous past—a testament to her tenacity. The memory of Cass's extensive wish list flickered through his mind, a document so exhaustive it bordered on the comical. He squinted an eye, trying to recall a jewelry making kit among the myriad requests. "Your list," he mused, his voice tinged with humor, "was as long as the journey from Mars to Ares." He chuckled softly, imagining her tiny handwriting cramming dreams onto paper. "You might as well have handed me the mail-order catalog and said, 'everything in here'." With every item Cass placed on the table, her confidence seemed to swell, her typically reserved demeanor giving way to a rare display of childlike glee. Here in this quiet moment, amidst the trappings of a makeshift jeweler's workshop, father and daughter shared a connection as intricate and precious as the designs Cass would soon bring to life. Sam's voice broke through Cass's reverie, a beacon amidst the stillness of the cramped cabin. "There's more," he declared, his tone hinting at the layers yet to be uncovered. With swift enthusiasm, Cass turned her focus to the storage cupboard like an unexplored cavern, promising secrets and treasures unknown. “More stuff?” she queried, her words laced with intrigue. Her father nodded, a conspiratorial gleam in his hazel eyes that mirrored the adventurous spirit they shared. He crossed the small space with measured steps, the gravity of Ares lending a grace to his movements born from a lifetime navigating its rugged landscape. The cupboard door creaked open under Sam's gentle coercion, a sound that resonated with the promise of new possibilities. Cass leaned forward, her bright green eyes reflecting a kaleidoscope of anticipation as she peered into the dim recesses beyond the threshold. Sam's retrieved a collection of thin paper booklets from the cupboard. He brought them back to the table and fanned them out like a hand of cards before Cass, each one adorned with diagrams and densely packed text. Cass, her excitement momentarily suspended in midair like a kite caught without wind, let out a soft sigh. Her gaze flickered from the booklet back to the cupboard, as if willing it to yield more hidden treasures. "Oh," she replied, the word escaping her lips like the last drop of water from an overturned glass, disappointment tinging its edges. Her father watched her closely, noting the slight downturn of her mouth and the way her shoulders slumped forward just a fraction—an atlas bearing the weight of minor letdowns. Sam knew well the hopes that bloomed in young hearts, especially those honed by the rugged life on a frontier like Ares. "Trust me, Cass," he said gently, his hazel eyes locking onto hers, "knowing how to use these tools properly is a treasure in itself. Mastery of this craft could shape our future." Cass nodded slowly, fingers flipping through the pages with less enthusiasm than Sam had hoped. “While I’m gone, you and Draco can use the wet sluice to search the creek for gemstones,” Sam said, hoping to ignite Cass’ interest in the project. “This is untouched land, nobody has ever been here before. If you can find gemstones, and learn to create jewelry, you could sell them back at Newhaven.” Cass flipped through the booklets, vivid pictures of creations yet to be born on each page. She liked the idea of making jewelry, it was an interest she’d always had, but she also knew this was just some busy work he was dumping on her so she wouldn’t complain about being left alone again while he went off on an adventure. Sam leaned back against the workbench, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on the narrowing creek outside. “I’ve brought us here because I believe after studying the Survey Drone data, this is where we are most likely to find obsidian, garnets, opal, rubies, and other semi-precious stones here.” His voice held the steady cadence of certainty, words falling like pebbles paving the path to their future. Cass stacked the instruction booklets in a neat pile on the surface of the table. Her agile fingers traced the outlines of tools and materials, each a silent testament to the task that lay ahead. There was no point to arguing, she was getting left behind again just like on Mars when Sam went on an expedition. Sam stood at the panoramic window, his silhouette etched against the creeping dawn that painted the landscape in shades of ochre and vermilion. He turned from the view, his expression grave as he addressed his daughter. "I’m glad you like the idea, but this isn’t just for fun," Sam continued, the weight of their predicament settling on his words like dust upon an untouched shelf. "Cass, we need money." Her gaze shifted from the gleaming array of jewelry-making tools to her father's earnest face. In the dim light, the lines around his eyes seemed more pronounced, mapping out the years of worry and determination. A surge of resolve tightened Cass's chest, and she straightened her posture, meeting his gaze with unwavering sincerity. "I’ll make the jewelry, we might be able to open a shop or something," Cass said earnestly. Her voice was low yet firm, a declaration that reached beyond the confines of their cramped quarters to the vast expanse of challenges awaiting them. She understood the gravity of their situation, the necessity of transforming these new skills into their lifeline. Draco pushed the notebook he’d been drawing across the table to Sam. “I can do this,” Draco said, a hesitant expression on his face. Sam took the notebook and examined the drawing Draco had been working on–it was good, really good. Draco had drawn a bird he’d been watching earlier perched on the railing outside. Draco’s mind hovered somewhere between the digital world of his birth, and the real world his AI mind had ascended to. “This is excellent work, but I can see the digital influence of your origins in it,” Sam critiqued the piece. “Try to make the bird seem ‘alive’, as if it could leap off the page at any moment and fly away. I think we could find a publisher interested in a collection of drawings from the Ares Frontier.” Draco grinned and nodded, reaching for the notebook. “I can make it better.” Sam pulled the notebook away from Draco’s grasp. “My supply of blank field notebooks is in the cupboard, get your own notebook, this one has all my geology notes in it.” Draco’s face lit up. “Okay,” he said, jumping up, and running to the cupboard.” The early morning light grew stronger, casting long shadows across the boat's deck. Cass gathered the instruction booklets, stacking them neatly beside the boxes of tools. There was much to do, and her hands were ready to shape more than just the delicate pieces of jewelry—they would help carve out a future for her family amidst the red sands of Ares.