at the edges of her vision, heavy and suffocating. The manual lever gave way under her weight with a sharp, metallic screech that echoed through the dying suit.

Pressurized air

heave, she lunged forward, her outstretched hand slamming against the frosted glass of the pod’s manual release.

*CRITICAL O2: 1%.*

Blackness ate

slicing through the seals of her suit, turning her breath into needle-sharp ice.

*CRITICAL O2: 2%.*

With a final, agonizing

her gloved fingers to claw into the frozen ash.

A harsh chime blared inside her helmet—*CRITICAL O2: 3%*. The cold was a physical blade now,

The amber glow flickered against the snow, casting long, jittery shadows across the black basalt. Ten meters. Five. Her boots found no purchase, but she dragged her crippled body forward using