Suriya nodded, looking relieved. “That’s fair. But we’d better move fast.” She grabbed her helmet off the rack and pulled it over her head. Maren followed, twisting her heavy helmet onto the neck of the suit until she heard the whirr of the connection being fixed and saw the green light on her sleeve panel.

“Hey, Gin, can you hear me?”

“Absolutely can.” Gin’s voice crackled through the helmet’s speakers, sounding tinny. “I’m seeing signals for three suits. Is that right?”

“Yeah, Suriya’s here. She’s coming out with us.”

Suriya’s voice piped through the speaker as her suit came online. “Gin, please allow me to give you a brief apology now, and the promise of a more complete, in-person apology when we get back.”

There was silence for a second, then Gin, sounding as though nothing had happened, said, “Don’t worry about it, boss. Now, I don’t want to be a wet blanket or anything, but there’s a little red screen here warning me about the imminent annihilation of anything squishy and humanish that isn’t inside the station.”

“Yes, thank you. Saul thinks we have enough time to attempt the repairs before the flare gets too close. Isn’t that right, Saul?”

Silence.

“Well, he does. We’ll be back before the countdown hits forty minutes, at the most.”

“’Kay. You’ll need to be fast. That only gives you twenty-five minutes.”

“Yeah,” Maren said, lining up beside her leader and Saul at the airlock’s external doors. “It’s a bit of a short warning this time.”

“A side-effect of the broken system. We’re not getting signals from the satellites. Okay, let me know when you’re ready.”

“Ready now,” Suriya said as she tied her tool pack to the back of her suit.

“Ditto.”

“Hmm.”

“Right,” Gin said, and Maren could hear the quiet beeps coming from the control panel. “I’m checking system statuses… confirming suits are functioning correctly… depressurising the airlock… and doors are opening in three, two, one.”

The airlock’s external door slid to one side with a quiet whoosh, and a billow of red dust engulfed the three teammates. Even after eight months of twice-a-week trips outside, Maren impulsively squinted against the grit, despite the protective helmet.

“Clock’s ticking,” Suriya said. “Let’s move.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

They walked in single file, Saul leading the team, with Maren in the rear. The planet, a flat expanse of red dust, was stuck in a perpetual state of twilight, and ribbons of flaming reds and yellows stretched across the cloudless horizon. Sometimes, when they received a crate of beer with their supplies or if she was feeling especially homesick for her native planet, Maren would sit by the windows and admire the glowing sunset. Mark liked to tease her for being sappy, but unknown to the scientist, Maren wasn’t the worst offender. Gin, perpetual romantic, had entire notebooks dedicated to poetry about the view.

The communications receivers were fixed to the roof of the station, surrounded by retractable metal guards that would automatically cover the sensitive equipment during a flare. Saul led them around the side of the station, where red sand had created a drift against its wall.