How fast? 180 beats a minute? 190? There was no way to tell; she couldn’t check her pulse through the padded suit, but it had to be nearing perilous levels.

She surveyed the horizon through her visor, searching for her ship, a shelter, anything. But the red sand of Mars stared back at her, beautiful and deadly, something she had dreamed of for so long.

Dreams.

Was she in the middle of one?

She sucked in another long breath, her mind ignoring the question. It wanted air—air meant life. The oxygen was draining out of her system, and with it, her life force. Soon her mind would slow to a crawl, and she would slip into unconsciousness as any spare oxygen was rerouted to her heart and vital organs. Then they, too, would slow, and finally, stop.

Her eyes desperately scanned the surface. She tried to run, but her legs protested. They were anchors, weights pulling her down.

How did she get here?

It didn’t matter. She needed to focus. Panicking meant death. She wasn’t ready to die. Not now, not after she had only just gotten to Mars.

In the distance, another deafening roar. Was it her mind playing tricks on her?

She turned and saw the outline of something approaching from a distance, hugging the red horizon like a dolphin riding a wave. The noise increased, and she blinked, straining her eyes. Something was definitely making its way toward her.

With every ounce of her remaining strength, she brought her hand to her visor, attempting to shade her eyes from the blinding sun. The object cruised across the skyline and momentarily blocked the glare, giving her enough time to identify it as a ship—not just any ship, either. She had seen it before, in one of NTC’s hangars.

Secundo Casu.

It was the prototype Dr. Hoffman had been working on for years. He had named it himself, humanity’s second chance. It was the same craft she had been promised a seat on.

As the ship came into focus, she saw the blue flame symbol of NTC stenciled on its hull. Her suspicions were confirmed. It was definitely Secundo Casu, and was clearly no longer just a prototype. Which meant work had been finished much faster than originally planned. But why? What would have prompted them to push up the schedule?

The growl of the spacecraft’s engines drowned out the sound of the air escaping from her helmet. For a moment hope replaced her need for oxygen. She watched the craft race toward her, and with her last strength, she waved her hands in the air.

“Down here!” she yelled, knowing there was no chance the crew would be able to hear her. “I’m down here,” she screamed again. Her voice sounded like a whisper in the distance, far from the firm and confident one she was accustomed to.

Her hands dropped to her sides. Her breath was labored and weak. Her head pounded as stars crept across her vision.