1.

WE’D COME WITH ONE scooter and small daykits. They’d come down, they told us, with two; and daykit enough for weeks.

They went off to get them.

Rat leaned against our tandem. “Will they have trouble finding us?”

“The radar-bows.” I joggled mine, so that it slid fully down into its holder. “They put out a homing beacon in case you get lost. Or in case someone else wants to find you.”

Two scooters turned round a distant dune, both riders now crimson in tourist coveralls. Ollivet’t hailed me with a red-draped wing over her bow sails.

“Come on.” As I straddled the saddle, Rat pushed the brace closed around his own bow, and straddled behind me, hand on my shoulder, hand on my flank.

I stamped stirrups.

Moustache tickled back at my upper lip; beard flattened to my chin. The wind put her three cool paw-pads on my chest and knees.

We skimmed warm sand and mica.