He unstrapped, drifted to the terminal, and pulled up the command line. His fingers trembled slightly—from cold, not fear, he told himself—but the keystrokes were clean.
Zephyr laughed. It came out raw and too loud inside the helmet.
Zephyr tapped the side of his helmet. “Copy, Control. Just one thing I need to do first.” do a barrel roll 10x
He didn’t answer. Instead, he climbed the gantry, sealed the hatch behind him, and strapped into the command couch. The Peregrine shuddered as its ancient engines began to warm. Outside, the desert night pressed against the viewport like a held breath.
He closed his eyes. The cold was starting to feel warm, which he knew was a bad sign. But the antenna was broadcasting. The signal was climbing out of Jupiter’s gravity well at the speed of light. He unstrapped, drifted to the terminal, and pulled
do a barrel roll 10x
He hit enter. Nothing happened. He smiled. It came out raw and too loud inside the helmet
The countdown hit zero. The engines roared. The sky turned white, then blue, then black. Three days later, the Peregrine was in a decaying orbit around Jupiter’s fourth moon, Europa. A solar flare had fried half his navigation array, and a micrometeoroid the size of a peppercorn had punched through his reserve oxygen tank. The redundant loop was gone. The life support scrubber was coughing like a dying cat. He had maybe forty-five minutes of breathable air left.