[After 2.5 hours of marching north, Taban and Daley have stopped talking. The two suns are now high in their arcs, casting the ice in a hard, blinding light that makes it difficult to distinguish the ground from the sky. The third and farthest marker from the ship is behind the group by about forty minutes. Daley has been breathing heavily for about half an hour.]

Taban: We should head back.

Daley: Not yet. We need to make it a little farther before we can put down another marker.

Taban: I feel like we’re cutting it close on oxygen. My readout’s at 40%—that’s just enough to make it back. What about you?

Daley: Just a little longer.

Taban: . . .

Daley: You know. Maybe we can start sending the HARE out at night.

Taban: What do you mean?

Daley: I mean. We’re not having the greatest luck ourselves, here. Not that I don’t enjoy being on this Mickey Fuckin’ Mouse parade with you. But the bot can cover way greater distances without us, right? And it doesn’t need oxygen.

Taban: . . .

Daley: So, say we’re wrong on the direction, or even the distance of these structures. The HARE doesn’t do anything except sit around at night. Why not send it out and let it do the finding for us? Like how we sent it out that first night.

Taban: I don’t think that’s a great idea.

Daley: What? Why not?

Taban: I mean—what if it gets damaged? Or what if it doesn’t come back? And it has a limited power source—

Daley: So what? We don’t need it for anything else. And it’s insured.

Taban: I just feel like it’s not going to find anything.

Daley: We won’t know until we try. Isn’t exploring and recon what it’s for?

Taban: If there was anything for it to find, it would have found it by now.

Daley: Well, we know that there is something for it to find, because it caught it on camera. So I’m not really getting your point.

Taban: I don’t know.

Daley: What’s wrong? Scared to lose your little friend?

Taban: Come on, you know it’s not that. It’s just—

Daley: Wait. Stop.

[Daley stops in his tracks, looking straight ahead. Behind him, Taban tries to peer over his shoulder. The HARE moves to the side to see what they’re looking at. There’s a small, dark object in the distance, oblong-shaped, metallic, nestled on the ice about 1.5 kilometers away.]

Daley: . . . What the fuck is that?

Taban: Is that—that’s—

Daley: Is that another fucking ship? There are people here!

Taban: . . .

Daley: Goddamn it!

Taban: Daley, wait—

[Daley begins to run toward the object. The springy ice and lesser gravity cause him to leap through the air in large arcs. After a moment’s hesitation, Taban begins to follow, more clumsily, with the HARE keeping pace.]