Tynrax
The damage is worse than the initial reports indicated.
I run my scanner over the collapsed transmission housing for the third time, hoping the readings will somehow improve. They don’t. The primary coupling is completely destroyed.
The secondary coupling shows stress fractures that will propagate if we attempt to channel power through them. Three solar arrays are offline, and two more are operating at reduced capacity.
I make notes on my datapad, cataloging what we’ll need. Replacement coupling from the ship’s stores. Reinforcement materials for the foundation. New power conduits. The list grows longer than I’d like.
“How’s it looking?” Sarpi calls from ground level.
“Complicated.” I climb down from the platform, checking my mental timeline again. “We’ll need to fabricate custom connections for the coupling integration. The original specs don’t account for the seismic damage.”
“Can you do that?”
“Yes.” I’ve built more complex systems in less favorable conditions. This should be manageable. Should be. “But it will take time we don’t have excess of.”
Sarpi nods, accepting this. He’s a good pilot, calm under pressure, doesn’t waste energy on complaints. I appreciate that. “What do you need me to do?”
“Return to the ship. Bring the fabrication equipment and the spare coupling unit. Also the reinforcement struts from cargo bay three.”
“On it.” He heads off across the regolith, moving at a steady jog.
Which leaves me alone with Dr. Saavik.
Aris. She prefers Aris, mentioned it twice on the flight from Prospect’s End.
“Dr. Saavik makes me sound like I’m eighty and grumpy,” she’d said.
“Just Aris is fine.” But I continue using her title because maintaining professional boundaries seems wise given we’ll be working in close quarters for days.
She’s currently circling the relay foundation with her scanner, taking readings every few meters. Muttering to herself as she works. “Subsurface density here is... okay that’s weird. No, wait. That’s just a density gradient from the volcanic substrate. Normal. Totally normal.”
I’ve noticed she talks to herself constantly. At first I thought she was addressing me or Sarpi. Then I realized she’s simply narrating her own thought process.
The habit is informative rather than distracting. I always know what she’s thinking. Right now she’s recalculating subsurface density measurements and talking herself through the corrections.
She’s pulled her dark auburn hair into a knot. Already coming loose. Strands catch the light, showing red highlights the ship’s artificial lighting hadn’t revealed. There’s a smudge of dust on her left cheek. She has no idea it’s there.
Emotional regulation. Basic training. There’s no reason for my markings to respond to Dr. Saavik’s dust-smudged face or the cadence of her voice.
No logical reason.
But… now she’s thinking about the fissure in the cliff face. She keeps glancing at it between readings. Her attention splits between the task at hand and whatever she thinks she saw in that opening.
To be fair, the formation did look unusual. The edges were too straight for a natural break in the basalt. And what I initially dismissed as shadows inside the opening might be worked stone.
Might be.
But we have a relay to repair and limited time. Geological curiosities can wait.
Aris finishes her circuit and returns to where I’m reviewing schematics on my datapad.
“I’ve checked for two meters around the base,” she reports. “No subsurface voids within scanning range. Stress fractures are superficial, shouldn’t compromise structural integrity during repairs.”
She stands close enough that I can see the scanner’s reflection in her dark brown eyes. The data density on her display indicates thoroughness. Competent work. I’ve worked with competent engineers before.
This feels different.
She shifts her weight. The movement is economical, no wasted energy. Practical. Everything about her is practical except for the enthusiasm that animates her when discussing geological formations.
The contrast is noteworthy.
“Good.” I make a note on my datapad. “Then we can proceed with the coupling--.”
The ground moves.
Not much. Just a sharp jolt that rattles the relay structure and sends loose equipment sliding across the platform. An aftershock. Minor, maybe magnitude two or three. But enough to make the damaged struts groan ominously.
Aris and I both freeze, waiting to see if it’s going to intensify. After five seconds of silence, I allow myself to relax slightly.
“That was fun,” Aris says. Her voice is only a little shaky. “Let’s not do that again.”
I’m already climbing back onto the platform, rescanning the damage. The aftershock opened a new stress fracture in the foundation. Not critical, but not encouraging. “Dr. Saavik, I need a new structural assessment. Check for any changes in subsurface stability.”
“On it.” She’s moving before I finish speaking, scanner out, already taking new readings.
I continue my own assessment. The coupling damage hasn’t worsened, but one of the support struts now shows additional stress. We’ll need to reinforce it before attempting repairs or risk the entire structure shifting during power restoration.
“We have a problem.” It’s not just the words. The tone of her voice makes me freeze.
I climb down to ground level. “Additional damage?”
“No. Well, yes, but not what I mean.” She angles her scanner so I can see the readings. “The aftershock created a new fissure. Smaller than the others, but it extends under the relay foundation. If there are subsurface chambers, if the structure is actually hollowed out beneath us...”
“The foundation could collapse during repairs.” I understand immediately. “We need to verify there’s no hidden instability.”
“Right.” She glances at the cliff face, and this time she doesn’t look away quickly. “That opening. If it leads to underground chambers, we need to know. We need to map the extent of any subsurface structures before we risk putting stress on the foundation.”
She’s not wrong. As much as I’d prefer to focus solely on the relay, we can’t make repairs on a foundation that might collapse. And if that fissure does lead to chambers, if there’s any possibility of hidden voids beneath the relay...
We need to investigate.
“How long to survey the opening and map any connected chambers?” I ask.
“Depends on what’s inside. If it’s shallow, maybe an hour. If it connects to extensive underground structures...” She trails off, but I can fill in the rest. Unknown timeline. Potentially significant delay.
But a necessary one. We can’t proceed without this information.
I look at the relay. At the damaged foundation.
At the fissure that might lead to structural instability beneath everything we’re trying to repair.
Then I look at Aris, who’s trying very hard not to look too enthusiastic about getting to explore the geological anomaly she’s been thinking about since we arrived.
Her enthusiasm is obvious in the way she’s holding her scanner, in the slight forward lean of her posture, in how her fingers tap against her thigh. She wants to investigate.
But she’s waiting for me to make the call, respecting the chain of command even though every instinct she has is probably screaming at her to just go look already.
I appreciate the restraint. Suspect it’s costing her considerable effort.
“Dr. Saavik.” I shut down my datapad and secure it in my jacket. “Let’s investigate your geological anomaly.”
Her face lights up. Actually lights up, like I’ve just given her the best news she’s heard all week. “Really?”
I feel the corner of my mouth twitch. An involuntary reaction to her enthusiasm. I force the expression away before it can form a smile.
“The structural integrity of our repair site depends on understanding subsurface conditions.” I keep my voice level, professional. “This is a necessary survey, not an indulgence of scientific curiosity.”
“Right. Absolutely. Very necessary. Completely professional.” She’s already moving toward the fissure, scanner in hand, practically bouncing. Then she stops and turns back. “But also, if it happens to be really cool ancient architecture, I’m allowed to be excited about it. Professionally excited.”
“Professionally excited is acceptable.”
Her mouth does this thing. Not quite a smile, but close. Just the corner lifting slightly.
I turn toward the fissure before my face does something equally revealing. “Come on, Commander. Time’s wasting.”
“Good.”
That smile transforms her face. The genuine one, not the professional expression she uses during briefings.
I signal to Sarpi, who’s visible in the distance heading back from the ship.
He alters course toward us. When he’s close enough to hear, I call out: “Change of plans. We need to survey the fissure first. Set up that equipment at the relay and monitor the systems. Call if you detect any additional seismic activity.”
“Got it.” Sarpi waves acknowledgment and continues toward the relay station.
Aris glances back to make sure I’m following. Her expression is pure excitement mixed with determination, like someone who’s just been granted permission to do exactly what they’ve been wanting to do.
And despite every professional instinct I possess, despite the pressure of the mission and the five thousand lives in our hands, I find myself almost looking forward to seeing what she’s going to discover.
Almost.
I increase my pace slightly. Not because I’m concerned she’ll actually go ahead without me. But because I am, in fact, concerned she’ll actually go ahead without me.
Dr. Aris Saavik is going to be the professionally interesting death of me.