Chapter 81: One Day Before Arrival
The quiet stretched on, thick and heavy, a solitude so complete it felt almost suffocating. My ship drifted, half-breathing, tethered to a razor-thin line between life and death. The seconds ticked by, each one laden with weight. I had survived the crash, the violent launch, the chaos of space. But now?
Now, the waiting was unbearable.
I stared at the controls, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion, my fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the console. I hadn't slept. Not really. Not since the crash. And the days before that had been a blur of adrenaline-fueled action. The leftover rations I'd scavenged were gone, the last of my water sloshing in a plastic bottle I hadn't touched in hours. The thought of food made my stomach twist, but there was no point in worrying about it anymore. My body was on autopilot now, moving from task to task, focusing on the immediate survival. The rest of the world could wait.
I had waited long enough.
The moment I had calculated my return trajectory, calculated the burn that would put me on course for Earth, I knew this was it. I would arrive within 24 hours.
It was time to let the world know.
With a sigh, I pushed myself up, leaving the weightlessness of my chair behind. Floating in the cabin, I pulled myself toward the small comms panel in the corner of the ship, its green lights flickering in the dim light. The same system I had used to communicate with Camille.
I wasn't sending her a message today. No.
This time, it was different. The world would hear it.
I turned on the transmitter, keyed in the necessary frequencies, and cleared my throat. I had rehearsed this moment in my mind a thousand times, but now, with the ship's groaning structure as my only audience, it felt different. It felt real.
The words came, steady and cold, no hint of emotion. No hesitation.