Chapter Fourteen

“We’re getting good readings,” Djawadi said after nearly ten hours of drilling. They were almost finished. Overall, they had made good time, only slowed down around hour six when they hit a patch of dense bedrock. The pressure levels spiked dangerously every few minutes as they drilled through it. But despite the exhaustion, Ludwig had begun to enjoy himself. It had been a long time since he’d operated a plasma drill like this. He’d forgotten how thrilling heavy machinery could be. A good distraction, given his lack of sleep—and the fate that awaited him.

But what he really loved was using simple, utilitarian machinery like this. With all the advanced tech they’d brought on this mission, it was easy to overengineer solutions. But this drill? Outside of its plasma component, it reminded him of old-world construction equipment—unchanged for centuries because it worked. Why fix what wasn’t broken?

When they finally finished drilling, Djawadi checked the mineral reservoir, which had been collecting molten iron from the crust throughout the process. The iron had already been sifted and refined through a system for their fabricator. Djawadi helped Ludwig take the reservoir’s large hose and hook it up to the fabricator machinery hanging from the railing structure. Once powered on, the fabricator would print the machinery and structural elements needed to build the future power plant.

Yes, someone would still need to weld it all together, wire the hardware, and ensure the software functioned properly. Then a team of colonists would arrive to erect the facility. But with the hole drilled and the fabricator in place, their portion of the mission was officially complete. Now, all that was left was to power up the fabricator and head for the surface.

The elation of finishing their mission was short-lived. Ludwig finally checked his air filter, stomach sinking as he saw the notification flashing on his wrist pad. His filter had fully saturated twenty minutes ago. So, he’d been breathing in the corrosive gases for that long now. He likely already had extensive lung scarring that would impact his breathing for the rest of his life.

The rest of his life, he thought grimly—as if he had more than a few hours left.

“Hey, you almost finished?” Ludwig asked as Djawadi set up the fabricator’s operating system.

“Not yet,” Djawadi said. “You out of clean air?”

Ludwig nodded but didn’t speak.

“Get out of here. I can finish up.”

“I can’t leave you down here,” Ludwig protested.

“You’re only going to kill yourself faster,” Djawadi said. “Besides, I still have plenty of time on my filter. Let me finish up—seriously. I promise I won’t do anything stupid.”

Ludwig sighed. He already caught himself taking shallower breaths, trying to make the air last longer. “Just don’t take too long. If you’re down here more than half an hour, I’m coming back.”

“I’ll be fifteen minutes, tops.”

Ludwig nodded, sparing one last look at Djawadi before heading back to camp.

He did seem different, Ludwig decided. Like the Djawadi he’d known at the start of the mission had returned. Where had he gone? Had it really just been the claustrophobia?

Djawadi kept his word, emerging from the shaft while Ludwig sifted through the wreckage, still searching for a usable air filter. His efforts had been futile.

“Fabricator’s up and running,” Djawadi announced. “More than enough mineral material to print everything the facility will need.”

Ludwig exhaled. “I can’t believe we actually did it.”

Djawadi smiled. “We cut it pretty close, didn’t we?”

Ludwig nodded, holding back the obvious—Djawadi was the reason they’d cut it so close in the first place.

“What do you say we get the hell out of here?” Ludwig asked.

“Please,” Djawadi said.

Before they could leave, Ludwig needed to put on one of their FLUX masks. With no airlock to normalize the pressure, removing his helmet was not a fun experience. He felt, once again, like his eyes were going to be sucked from their sockets. But soon enough, the FLUX mask expanded around his head, cool oxygen flowing into his lungs.

Ludwig ignored the fact that it already hurt to breathe.

“How many do we have left?” Djawadi asked, nodding toward Ludwig’s mask.

“Not enough,” Ludwig said flatly.

Djawadi nodded, “Want to lead the way?”

Ludwig hesitated, unease creeping in. “Uh . . . do you mind going first?”

A flicker of distrust crossed Djawadi’s face, but it vanished just as fast.

“Oh,” he said, understanding Ludwig’s hesitation. “I can go first.”

They took one last moment to survey their wrecked base camp before beginning the long climb to the surface. Aside from the spare FLUX masks, they took nothing with them. Ludwig wanted to reach the surface as quickly as possible, though he knew deep down it was probably pointless. They were far enough below that they might not even get there before their air ran out. Maybe they could if they pushed hard—but the faster they hiked, the faster they’d burn through oxygen. And even if they somehow reached the surface in time, nothing would have changed. Their relief team wasn’t arriving early. But still, even knowing the odds, Ludwig would rather die under open sky, looking up at their man-made moon, than suffocate in these caverns.

The climb back to the surface was brutal. Neither of them had gotten the rest they needed, and they’d already been exhausted and sore before they even started. The longer they walked, the more Ludwig struggled for air. It was staggering how much damage his lungs had sustained from just a few minutes of breathing through a saturated filter at Site Alpha.

Two hours into the climb, Djawadi collapsed. He’d spent the entire hike insisting his filter was fine, that he’d changed his later than Ludwig. Ludwig cursed under his breath, already reaching for one of the FLUX masks in his pack.

Before he could put it on Djawadi, Ludwig froze. This was the moment he’d tried not to think about. The moment where one decision would determine both their fates.

He finally let himself ask the question. What if he didn’t give Djawadi more air? If he kept the remaining FLUX masks for himself and left Djawadi unconscious, he’d be able to make it to the surface with air to spare.

Could he really do it? Could he walk away, let Djawadi suffocate, and save himself?

Why not? The question came to him easier than he expected.

Why not?

If Djawadi had had his way, Ludwig would already be dead. Did they both have to die, when one of them might make it? If he took the remaining FLUX masks for himself instead of splitting them, he could survive. Was it unfair that he even had to make this choice? After everything, would anyone blame him?

He knelt on the cavern floor, FLUX mask in hand, frozen.

Ludwig’s suit alarm blared—Djawadi’s vitals had hit dangerous levels. He sighed and took of Djawadi’s helmet, then pressed the FLUX mask onto Djawadi’s face. Cowardice? Mercy? It didn’t matter. He just couldn’t let his partner die like this, no matter what had happened between them.

As the FLUX mask’s seal expanded around Djawadi’s head, Ludwig knew he’d passed yet another point of no return—one that had sealed his fate even further.

An hour later, progress was agonizingly slow. Their suit batteries were failing, and exhaustion dragged at every step. Each movement felt like a small battle won. Soon, life support would fail. The cold beneath the surface would seep in, turning their final stretch into an even greater struggle.

Ludwig stumbled, realizing he felt a little lightheaded.

“You okay?” Djawadi asked, stopped in the path ahead.

 “Just tripped,” Ludwig lied.

He even tried to convince himself it was from the lung damage he’d already sustained. But he knew the truth—he’d pushed this FLUX mask well beyond its rated lifespan. Even knowing that, he forced himself to hold out a little longer, desperate to squeeze a few more minutes of air from it.

When it became clear he had to change the mask, Ludwig hesitated. Would he have to remove it completely? The thought of depressurizing and repressurizing in such a hostile environment made his stomach turn. With some tinkering, he discovered the small box at the end of the hose—where the FLUX mask’s filter and machinery were housed—could be twisted off and replaced. Relieved, he swapped it out for a fresh filter, securing it in place with a satisfying click.

Not even ten minutes after changing his filter, their suit batteries died. Ludwig cursed himself for not thinking to check the time before everything powered down. They had been walking for hours, yet the uniformity of the caverns made it feel like they hadn’t moved at all. Had they even passed their original base camp? He couldn’t remember. Either way, reaching the surface was taking far longer than expected. At their current pace, he wasn’t even sure they’d make it.

They pressed on. The more they walked, the colder it became. The colder it became, the more each breath seared Ludwig’s lungs. Their suits’ insulation was good—remarkably so—but not perfect. At first, their body heat kept them warm enough, but as exhaustion set in, sweat began to freeze against their skin, turning their suits into icy coffins. Ludwig’s teeth chattered so violently he could barely keep his jaw clenched, each step a fight against his own trembling limbs. He had to steady himself against the cavern wall, his legs quaking beneath him.

Time had lost all meaning. Their suits had been dead long enough that neither of them had any idea how long they’d been walking. Without their helmet lights, the caverns stretched into an abyss, erasing any familiar landmarks. They could have been meters from the surface—or miles.

To Ludwig, it felt like they had been walking forever. Time stretched, warped by exhaustion. Every so often, he swore he recognized a rock formation—a familiar outcropping, a pattern of pores in the stone—proof they must be close. But they kept walking. And walking. And walking. The surface remained out of reach. A gnawing worry settled in: with their suits dead, their navigation offline, had they taken a wrong turn? Were they heading deeper into the caverns, ready to be swallowed up by a vertical shaft they’d never see coming?

Djawadi stumbled and fell. Ludwig rushed to help—but the sudden movement sent his own balance reeling. His legs wobbled beneath him, his vision swam. Just moving faster for a second had been enough to send his already delirious body spiraling.

“I can’t walk anymore,” Djawadi rasped, his voice thin and ragged. Each word sounded like it was being dragged from his lungs, scraped raw.

“When was the last time we changed your air filter?” Ludwig asked.

When was the last time he’d changed his own?

He had a vague memory of helping Djawadi change his earlier. Or had that been his own filter? He couldn’t tell if he had actually done it or only imagined it. When he checked his pack, there was only one filter left. One of them had changed their filter recently. But which one?

Ludwig blinked. Djawadi was on the ground in front of him. Wait. When had that happened? He couldn’t remember. Something about changing a FLUX mask filter? But that didn’t explain why they were both sprawled on the cavern floor.

Ludwig forced himself up, and reached for Djawadi’s arm, trying to haul him up. Djawadi yanked away, twisting free.

“I said I can’t walk anymore,” he snapped.

Ludwig sighed when he saw the blank look in Djawadi’s eyes again. “Fuck you,” Ludwig said. Or at least tried to. His voice was little more than a raw, scratchy croak. Every breath burned.

Ignoring Djawadi’s request, Ludwig crouched down, hoisting one of his partner’s arms over his shoulders. He struggled to stand, bracing against the wall as his legs trembled beneath him. With a massive effort, he got them both upright—though their hunched posture barely counted as standing. He didn’t even attempt a step. Just getting them both vertical had left him dizzy, his breathing ragged and uneven.

After a few moments, Ludwig pressed forward, Djawadi’s arm draped over his shoulder, his own weight sagging against the cavern wall. They managed a few shuffling steps—a slow, clumsy dance of sheer willpower. They’d barely gone five steps before Ludwig collapsed. The world tilted. His vision tunneled to black.

* * *

When Ludwig regained consciousness, a dim light flickered in the distance. His thoughts moved sluggishly, but as clarity returned, he recognized it—the exit of the caverns. How? How had they made it this far? The last thing he remembered was dragging Djawadi along before collapsing beneath him. Or wait—had Djawadi been the one dragging him? But now, he was flat on his back. Had he been moved? And where was Djawadi?

Ludwig lifted his head and scanned the cavern, spotting Djawadi sprawled beside him. He felt stronger than before—strange, given how close to death he’d been. Had the sight of the green sky ahead somehow given him a second wind? Using the cavern wall for support, he pushed himself up, his muscles weak but determined. He crouched over Djawadi and shook him gently.

“Doctor, you awake?”

Ludwig frowned at the silence. For a moment, dread filled him—was Djawadi dead? But then, he saw the faint condensation formed against the inside of his partner’s FLUX mask, just above his nostrils. He was breathing. Barely.

They were only meters from the surface. Ludwig’s paranoia flared—if they didn’t fully emerge, would the Cohesion transfer group miss them? Gritting his teeth, he seized his partner and began dragging him toward the entrance. They were so close now. So close to finally leaving the caverns that had confined them for the past four weeks. Home wasn’t the right word, but calling them a prison felt a bit too dramatic.

With the exit just ahead, Ludwig dragged Djawadi forward, inch by inch, forcing his way toward the green sky that was so close now. Soon, they would see the dim red sun again, and the manmade moon hanging in orbit.

Praying to a god he’d never been sure existed, Ludwig clung to the desperate hope that a team would be waiting for them. If not, they had minutes before they’d slip into unconsciousness. Death following closely behind.

Ludwig briefly wondered why he wasn’t as delirious as before. Shouldn’t it be getting worse? Shouldn’t he be dead by now?

But there wasn’t time to dwell on it. All that mattered now was the last few feet—the final stretch to pull Djawadi out of the caverns. Summoning the last of his strength, Ludwig dragged them both forward.

When he finally hauled Djawadi out of the caverns, Ludwig stumbled and collapsed. His face pressing into the rocky ground. Even through the pliable FLUX material of his mask, he could feel the rough surface beneath him.

He waited for someone to come. For the relief team. For any voice, any sign of help. But no one came. That wasn’t a good sign. He knew that. If no one was here now, it would be too late when they finally arrived.

Ludwig forced himself to lift his head, scanning the horizon. Nothing. He already knew what he would see, but the emptiness still crushed him. No one was waiting for them. He had no idea what time it was or how long until the Cohesion transfer team arrived. Some irrational part of him wondered if they had gotten the day wrong—if they were a day too early. Or worse, a day too late.

“Please… help,” Ludwig rasped. Every word scraped his throat like the sharp, porous rock of the caverns below. It hurt to speak. It hurt to breathe.

He tried to think. But his mind was moving too slowly. Thoughts coming and going like wisps of smoke. He struggled to conjure one last thought that might spur an idea to save their lives, clinging to the hope that if he could just stay conscious, help might arrive.

The last thing Ludwig saw before darkness took him was the moon rising on the horizon. Their moon—the one they had built with their own hands. He wished he could be up there.