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It was a pretty good sketch, she had to admit. Even with the loss of her normal pencils, she had managed to turn the singular red colored pencil she had scrounged up into a beautiful landscape. Most everything here on Mars was red anyways, so it hadn’t looked too off, although a few extra colors would have been nice. When she got back to base, she would need to repack her travel kit.
Speaking of base, it was time to get going. She had left early that morning to get to the solar panels before the sun fully rose. A few of them had been giving some weird readings, and she had been sent to fix it. After brushing the brick-red dust off the surface, she had stayed for a few hours to ensure that they were now functioning optimally. With the last readout uploaded to her suit, it was time for her to go home.
Each step puffed up clouds of red dirt behind her, each of them billowing away in the light wind blowing across the surface. She tucked the sketch into a pocket as she walked, eager to get home. It could go on the fridge. Rory would like it.
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The ground crumbled beneath her feet, sending her careening down the slope. She hit the bottom with a thud, her route down clearly marked by a darker red streak where she had slid. Her oxygen tank was still attached, thankfully, and her suit appeared intact. She ran her hands over her body, checking for any damages she hadn’t initially noticed. Her hand came away red. Huh. That was new. Twisting as much as possible, she could just see the liquid dripping down to the ground, forming a slow puddle. As the adrenaline of the fall faded, her side hurt. A lot.
She activated the comm unit in her helmet, hoping to reach the base for a pickup. Silence was her only reply. Either the hole she was in was blocking short range communications, or she had damaged her comm unit in the fall. She continued to try, refusing to give up yet, when a beeping interrupted her. A quick glance at her HUD showed the problem. Her injury had breached her suit. Oxygen was leaking into the surrounding atmosphere, and it would not take long before she was out.
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“Hey Al, you’re still over by Mars, right?”
“John, you know exactly where I am right now. What do you need?”
“I’m getting a weird signal from the surface. It could very well be nothing, but since you’re in the area anyways…”
“You want me to go over there and check it out.” Alan finished, already changing direction. “I’m on it. Send me the coordinates, and I’ll be there ASAP. But if this is a false alarm, you owe me dinner.”
“Understood, Thunderbird Three. Transmitting the coordinates now.”
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Her oxygen levels were long past where she would normally allow them to fall, deep into the red portion of the gauge. She had tried to pull herself out of the hole, but there were no handholds. The pain in her side had flared every time she moved, so now she had taken to sitting propped against the wall, trying to conserve oxygen as much as possible.
She occupied herself by staring at the stars, watching the sun sink past the horizon and its more distant cousins appear one by one. One caught her eye, initially looking like a shooting star, but continuing in a blazing red trail. She idly wondered what it could be, too weak from blood loss and lack of oxygen to care much.
She tracked it across the sky until it came to a stop right next to her hole, the shiny red rocket glowing in the faint light. Her eyes slipped closed as something seemed to descend from the side of the ship.
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When she opened them again, there was a red gloved hand reaching for her. It took a monumental effort to take it, but as soon as she did, it lifted her confidently into the air. She pressed her helmet into the red of his baldric, and felt safe.