Page 23 of Nebula Hearts
“We’ll need to replace the connector,” he says. “But we don’t have the right alloy in our fabrication stores.”
“Can we synthesize it?”
“Not without base materials we don’t have.” He pulls back, and the cool air rushes in where his warmth had been. “We need the original component.”
I switch from the geological maps to the colonial archives, looking for anything related to the relay’s construction. “Wait. Look at this.”
I pull up an old mission log from five years ago. “According to the logs, before the main relay was constructed, they used a temporary prototype setup in this area. They abandoned it because the geological strata were too unstable for a permanent station.”
“An old survey site,” Tynrax says.
“Exactly.” I cross-reference the schematics. “The logs show it used the exact same model of power coupling. They would have just left it there when they relocated.”
Tynrax goes very still. “That site was abandoned for a reason, Aris. The quakes made it a deathtrap. It’s not safe.”
“It’s a risk I have to take.” I close the scan before he can argue. “I’ll be in and out. The predators are nocturnal, and I’m the only one who can go. You need to stay here, away from the ruin’s field.”
He doesn’t answer immediately. His markings waver, a wave of violet light washing over his skin before receding.
“I don’t like this plan,” he says finally.
“I’m not asking you to like it. I’m asking you to let me do my job.” I sling the equipment pack over my shoulders. “You can track me the whole time. I’ll keep my comm open. First sign of trouble, I’ll abort and head back.”
“Define trouble.”
“Anything that tries to eat me.”
His mouth tightens, a clear effort to hold back his thoughts.
“Aris.”
“I’ll be careful. Promise.” I head for the airlock. “Keep working on the fabrications we can manage. If the colony drops below thirty percent, we’re out of time regardless.”
“Thirty percent as of ten minutes ago.”
I pause. Turn back. “Then I’d better move fast.”
The walk to the survey site takes forty minutes. Longer than I estimated because the terrain is rougher than the scans indicated. Volcanic rock formations create natural barriers, forcing me to detour around obstacles. The regolith is loose in places, shifting under my boots.
My comm crackles. “Status?” Tynrax’s voice is strained, even over the comms.
“Fine. Just navigating some tricky geology.” I scramble over a low ridge, loose rock sliding beneath me.
“I’m not interested in the geological history right now.”
“Right. Sorry. The site should be visible once I clear this ridge.”
I reach the top and look down. A dented, half-buried pre-fab shelter sits in a natural depression, partially collapsed. A few rusted solar panels cling to its roof.
“Found it. Heading in now.”
The shelter’s roof is bowed inward on one side, half-buried in dark volcanic regolith. Rust stains streak the paneling like old blood, and one of the solar arrays creaks as it shifts in the wind. For a second I just stand there, staring at the faded emblem above the door, Survey Team 3A, and wondering who they were. How long it’s been since anyone walked into this place. How it feels like a grave now. I step closer. The wind eddies around my boots, whispering through the collapsed scaffolding. No power signature, no movement. Just the quiet weight of abandonment.
“Be careful.”
“Always am.”
The shelter door is jammed. I have to use a pry bar to force it open with a groan of tortured metal. The temperature drops immediately. The air inside smells of ozone, mildew, and dust.
