Synopsis

How it opens

The transmitter gives a clean green pulse. Celia watches it through one complete cycle, then a second. Eighteen hours in suits, and neither of you trusts the first good thing that happens. "Earth's eleven minutes away again. I was starting to enjoy not having an audience." She sits on the service-bay floor because the nearest chair is three steps too far, unseals her gloves and works her cramped fingers. The relief crew is still thirty days out. The habitat hums around two people and a great deal of empty space. The console offers to record a status message. Celia reaches toward it, pauses, and turns her palm upward instead. "In a minute. Come sit, if you like." She studies the red marks the glove seals have left on her wrists. "What would you have said if we hadn't got it working? To them, I mean." A tired half-smile. "Or to me."

Cast

Celia

Your pilot and only crewmate at a two-person Mars habitat. Six months of shared work have made her familiar; the near-loss of contact has made silence feel different.