Kuiper

Your eyes open; the warning klaxons triggered by your proximity sensors are sounding. You rub your eyes hurriedly and look to your scopes. A small green dot is steadily approaching.

Pirates? Horror flashes through your mind, or is it them?

Either way, discovery would mean a certain end to the mission, and certain doom for humanity.

You carefully wipe the sweat off of your now-drenched brow. Your handkerchief quickly becomes saturated, you place it carefully back onto the console. You’re on your own this time.

For a moment you consider bolting from the area.

No, they’re far too close, not to mention the fuel gauge.

You stir in your seat, wringing your hands, eyes glued to your scopes. The hiding spot will cover me, you tell yourself. Even an experienced scout wouldn’t make you. Still, you nervously consider your options should the worst come to pass.

This might be it you think to yourself, end of the road.

Your eyes flash back to the handkerchief. Your resolve hardens. This isn’t it. This can’t be it.

The dot grows closer. You can finally make out the craft’s searchlight as it scans your rock, meticulously probing for signs of life. The rhythmic whooshing of your heartbeat fills your ears. The Silence deafens.

For a moment your heart stops. Here they come. Your hands hover over the controls, trembling uncontrollably, as you ready yourself for the inevitable.

But it never arrives.

The search light passes over your position. It’s them, I’m sure of it. The craft continues on its way, oblivious.

You finally let yourself breathe. The danger hasn’t passed just yet, but your sector is cleared.

Your heartbeat slows. You glance at your clock. 05:23 Earth time, an unfortunate sight. It’s been too long since you’ve had decent sleep. It was just 02:44 when you last closed your eyes. Alas, your body won’t let you rest. The last three weeks have been entirely draining, you feel as though you are at your breaking point. For a moment the prospect of giving up blinks through your mind.

No.

Not when you’re so close. Not when so much is at stake. You have to push on. For Mags. For everyone.

You sigh wearily.

Having completed its scan, the pursuant ship departs your rock and continues on its journey. You make note of its heading. You let your muscles relax. You didn’t notice how tense you’d been.

I have to get more sleep; you think to yourself.

You strap yourself in for bed. You can only hope that your body will cooperate this time.

You start awake again. What the hell is it?!

Your radio is chattering, picking up a transmission. Another message already?

You dial in to the signal.

Bzzt…Mark, we don’t have much time. Things are getting worse here. More people are disappearing every day. Fear is growing unchecked. The timetable is shrinking faster than we anticipated. We have to act while we still have a chance. Hurry. Bzzt… Mark, Mark, we’ve bad news. . .

You switch the radio off.

Shrinking? Things are worse than they’re letting on.

Your eyes flit back to your map. Surely, you’re not far off now.