“More cautions against sunbathing in a gamma flare, then?”

Suriya didn’t laugh at the joke, but her eyes stopped roving the hallway to fix Maren with a cold stare. “The others are waiting in the comm room. Be quick.”

Maren heaved a sigh as the echo of her superior’s footsteps faded. She thought she’d done reasonably well at making friends with her co-workers during the eight months since she’d been assigned as the maintenance worker on Station 334… all except for Suriya. To be fair, Suriya doesn’t really have friends. Just some subordinates she likes more than others. Maren pursed her lips at the stuck bolt, gave it a kick for good measure, and jogged after her leader.

Station 334, built on the second section of the semi-planet Cycern, was a vital link in the Mandola Communications System. On a busy day, they could process and redirect thousands of messages and assistance requests from planets up to thirty-five days’ travel away. Currently, though, they were in their hibernation phase: Cycern’s slow rotation had moved Station 334 to face the quietest section of their network, and the crew had been reduced accordingly. The other two stations on Cycern—488 and 491—had absorbed the surplus workers, who would pick up the slack on those stations.

Maren still wasn’t used to how empty the station felt without its full crew. While in hibernation, the crew consisted of a minimum team of five. In a few weeks, when the planet had rotated another fifty degrees, 488 would be facing the void, and the full crew of eighty-six members would return. She was looking forward to it. The vast maze of hallways felt achingly lonely with just five people drifting through them.

She reached the communication room and eased through the door. Suriya had settled into a seat near the back of the room, her pale face creased into an expression Maren had come to associate with frustration. Saul, their defence technician, leaned against the wall, his scarred face impassive. And Mark, their scientist, sat beside Gin, who was Maren’s favourite person in the entire universe.

Gin was their only remaining communications specialist. Normally, she would have been flanked by thirty of her peers, but while the station was in hibernation, she sat alone behind the dashboard that wrapped around half of the large room. She grinned as Maren entered. “…and that makes five of us. Shall we do a roll call, boss?”

“Just play the packet,” Suriya sighed.

“Right-o.” Gin swivelled in her seat and pressed a series of buttons with dizzying dexterity. Gin wasn’t a small woman, but she was fast at her job. Her pink blouse and skirt looked horrifically out of place in the dull-grey station, but she had a set of them and wore them like a uniform. Maren loved the woman for her subtle rebellion against the clinical environment.

The speakers buzzed into life, and Maren leaned forward to listen. A woman read the announcement, her voice clear, perfectly enunciated, and as nuanced as a robot.