Supplies low meant exactly what it sounded like: the station’s crew was going to run out of food, water, oxygen, or mechanical supplies before the scheduled bi-monthly restocking. In response to this message, one of the refuelling ships would be dispatched to drop off whatever they needed.

Assessment requested was used when one of the crew was requesting a transfer or if the station was deteriorating beyond what the assigned team could repair and they wanted approval for a renovation. Two council delegates would be sent to assess and approve those requests.

Emergency assistance required was the least-frequently used signal, but it was also the most difficult to prepare for. It could mean almost anything: one of the crew had been injured, a lifeform beyond what the assigned team could handle had landed on the planet after hitching a ride on an asteroid or space junk, one of the crew members had gone insane from the solitude, or any other dangerous problem that the crew needed outside help to deal with.

Normally, Central tried to send highly skilled and efficient teams who had a history of working well together to respond to emergency assistance requests, but Charles suspected Central had been scraping the bottom of the barrel when they’d dispatched her. An abnormally high number of assistance requests had come in during the previous week, and all of the reliable response teams were already halfway across the known system.

Charles had never worked with her companions before, but she’d been told Jay was their mechanic—as she watched him fumble to remove the access box’s protective cover, she had to wonder just how much experience he had. Robin was their pilot, leader, and medic. Charles had a background in defence, so she supposed Central had sent her as a fighter, even though she’d had only twelve weeks of active duty before being reassigned. The team was far from ideal.

The box’s lid popped off, exposing a mess of multicoloured wires and circuits. Jay began tracing one of the black wires, gave up on it partway along, and tugged on a red wire instead.

“Any time this decade will be fine,” Robin said.

“Yeah, yeah, calm down, Princess,” Jay said fondly. “This part can’t be rushed, but feel free to heckle me into electrocuting myself if it makes you feel better.”

Jay finished tracing one of the green wires and pulled its end out of the socket. He then plugged it into the vacant gap next to it, and the thick metal doors slid aside with a quiet whoosh.

“You’re welcome,” he said as the women filed past him and into the station’s airlock.

The small room had only two doors: one leading to the outside and one that would grant them access to the station. Shelves to their left held the equipment the station’s team needed to maintain their moon, and a large plexiglass window would have let them see into the control room if the station lights had been on.