Picking the closest showerhead, I turned on the knob. No matter how hot I turned it, the water stayed cold. I would’ve thought that with how hot it was here that the water would also be hot, but no.

I quickly shed the shorts and tank I’d used as pajamas. Holding my breath, I stepped under the icy stream. I yelped as goosebumps broke out across my skin and moved as quickly as I could. It was a shock at first, but then, when I got over the initial jolt, it was a refreshing break from the thick heat in the room. Still, I didn’t linger for long in there. Not like I had in the spaceport shower.

When I finished, I slapped my hair into a messy bun and threw on another pair of shorts. At least I thought they were shorts. They were skintight and made of the same water-wicking material as a lot of the other stuff. The tank top was fitted, but soft. Going out in so little clothing wasn’t my usual MO, but it was too hot to even think about pants.

I had a little over an hour before I had to show up for work. That left me just enough time to follow Ahiga’s advice to have a good breakfast. My appetite was still nonexistent, but if Ahiga said food would help me survive, I’d eat as much as I could shove down my throat.

My hands shook as I checked my hair. Going out on the surface seemed pretty terrible, but I’d gotten through plenty of sticky situations. I wanted to believe that I could do this, but the nerves were still there.

I checked the screen on my wrist unit. There was an emergency info app, a calendar—which had my shifts—and a few other things that I’d check out later. But no access to any browsers. Aside from an alerts app from SpaceTech, there was no messaging on the unit that I could find. A map icon was also nonexistent, but there was a little SpaceTech icon labeled “SPB-14278.”

A basic menu bar popped up, and I realized Matthew was right. This wrist unit was pretty archaic. It looked like something programmed decades ago. One more click and the map popped open. The blinking blue dot on the screen showed my position. A little search told me that there were two mess halls—main and an officers’ club. The main mess was a few buildings away. I quickly navigated, checking the map every few steps as I wound through dimly lit hallways until I finally reached a door with a barely visible metal plaque labeling it “Mess Hall.”

I scanned my hand on the unit next to the door. This time it didn’t make my teeth hurt, but the buzz along my body was uncomfortable. The door unlocked, and I stepped into the noisy room.