As he rounded the bend of the canyon wall, the silhouette of the relay station appeared—Checkpoint 1. It sat perched on the edge of the abyss like a waiting gargoyle. If he could reach the terminal there, he could upload the drive and reset the system.
Kael took a breath, tasted the metallic tang of thinning air, and broke into a heavy, lung-burning run.
His HUD flickered, a dying amber light casting shadows against his face. Then, a sharp ping resonated in his ear—the first signal in three hours. Continue to Checkpoint 1 [file]
Kael looked at his oxygen gauge: 12%. The "file" he carried—a physical encrypted drive tethered to his wrist—felt heavier than the lead casing suggested. It contained the terraforming bypass codes, the only thing that could stop the colony’s atmospheric processors from venting the remaining oxygen into the void.
Should Kael at the airlock, or should he discover he’s not alone at the checkpoint? As he rounded the bend of the canyon
The hum of the environmental recyclers was the only thing keeping Kael from sliding into total panic. Through the cracked visor of his EVA suit, the Martian horizon was a blur of rust-red dust and jagged basalt.
He forced his boots to move, the magnetic locks clunking against the metallic catwalk of the exterior ridge. Below him, the lights of the Valles Marineris colony were dimming as the power grid failed. "I'm moving," he rasped, his voice catching on the dry air. Kael took a breath, tasted the metallic tang
the voice repeated. "Awaiting data transfer."