There’s something inherently human and raw in the realization that one might be dying soon. After the panic comes the desperateness to live and to overcome the hurdle. But once that desperateness passes, and one realizes there’s no other way out except for the scythe, a hopeless sort of acceptance takes over.
“Elham? Is there something wrong?” Juniper asked through the communication radio in her spacesuit. Her breath came out in labored huffs and small gasps, but she didn’t even care if the others noticed how unnaturally fatigued she sounded. Her hand gripped a long metal protrusion on the body of the Artemis Labs I spacecraft; as did the others. They were using it as both a balance and an anchoring; without which they might drift away.
Elham gulped. She couldn’t tell them. It would only
