He checked the external monitors. Sarah was out there. She was supposed to be securing the perimeter sensors, but her tether was frayed, whipped by winds that could strip paint off a hull. She was gesturing wildly, her gloved hands slicing through the orange haze.

Elias reached for the override anyway, his mind racing. If he pulled it, they might stabilize. If he didn't, they were definitely dead.

The floor groaned. The last bolt gave way. As the module tilted toward the abyss, Elias realized her frantic gestures hadn't been technical reports at all. She had been waving goodbye.

Sarah stopped moving. She looked at him, her posture sagging with a sudden, heavy exhaustion. She held up a small, jagged piece of metal—the locking pin. It had snapped.

The intercom gave one final, clear chirp—a system error—and then the world went quiet.

"Base, this is Scout One. The atmospheric stabilizers are failing. Do you copy?" Silence. Then, a rhythmic thump-thump from the airlock.

He shook his head, pressing his face against the glass. He pointed to the stabilizer readout—a flashing red 'Critical'—and then to the manual override lever across the room. He needed to know if the exterior bolts were locked before he pulled it, or the whole module would shear off the cliffside.

Through the visor of her helmet, he saw her mouth moving, but the vacuum of the airlock and the roar of the storm swallowed her words. She held up three fingers, then pointed toward the horizon. Three minutes? Third sector?