“How are things holding together?” I asked, reaching up and flicking one of a dozen switches on the communication array. “Are we transmitting?”

Elliot’s lights brightened for a moment before returning to their baseline level. I knew this as a sign of them nodding. Just one of a thousand quirks you picked up about a person when you were trapped in a tin can with them for a couple weeks.

Person? Was Elliot a person?

I snorted aloud.

“What do you find so amusing?” Elliot asked. “I’d hope that you would be taking this seriously.”

I shook my head. “Yeah, yeah, you know I am. Just… had a weird thought that is way above my paygrade.”

“And what’s that?” they asked.

“Are you a person?” I replied, pushing away from the comms and floating back towards my pilot’s seat. When no response came, I glanced at the nearest camera. “Weird question, right?”

They made a sound that was like the artificial equivalent of someone clicking their tongue against the roof of their mouth. “I wouldn’t know… that’s also well above my paygrade.”

“You get paid?” I asked. “I thought you said that your pay was shit?”

Another brightening, followed by a return to normal lighting. “Well I guess the more correct term is that my programmer collects royalties off of my service. Something in the range of a couple dozen Europan dollars for every hour that a ship is in transit.”

I quickly did the math, trying to imagine how many little boats were zipping around between all the different planets, moons, asteroids, and LaGrange Stations in the solar system. When the number grew to be somewhere in the thousands, collecting figures in the billions, I let out a low whistle.

“That’s a whole lot of money,” I whispered. “Makes a girl realize that they got into the wrong line of work. Should’ve done my trans heritage proud.” I then shook my head. “Wonder if they let people with that kind of money die like this?”

“You’re not going to die like this,” Elliot cut in. “That's a very counterproductive mindset to adopt while attempting to ask for help.”

“I’m a pessimist,” I grumbled. “It can’t be helped.”

I watched as a few lights flickered on the communication array. They continued to flicker for a good couple of moments before finally a row of solid green lights told me that everything was in order.

“That seems promising,” I said.

A pixelated panel on the communication unit lit up and a green hand gave me a thumbs up.

“Just be thankful that I’m not from Ganymede,” I teased. “To them that means something along the lines of shoving it up your ass.”

Elliot snorted. “Well thankfully you were employed by a civilized planet.”

“A civilized planet that cheaped out on their maintenance budget,” I commented. “Not going to lie but I never hear about this shit happening to a ship from Ganymede.” I paused. “Though that could also be because not many people live through this to tell their…”

“This is not a productive line of thinking to maintain,” Elliot cut in, quite tersely. “Your signal is coming through strong and your broadcasting strength is a whole 7.9% more effective than the equipment was designed for. That means that us establishing contact is all the more likely.”

“Right, right.” I forced myself to smile though I wasn’t buying it for a second. “I’m sure whatever rock miners are in this neck of the words will totally be willing to help. I’ve spoken to a few of them before and they’re always talking about how they’re looking for a damsel in distress to save.”

I pursed my lips and looked at a nearby monitor. It was currently shut off, meaning that I could get a good look at my reflection and the rather fuzzy complexion of my face. Yet again, dysphoria was such an easy thing to ignore when you were the only organic being for a million miles around.

“I guess I should probably think about actually making myself look like a damsel,” I grumbled, pushing away from my chair and towards the ship’s bathroom. “No one wants to save some scruffy looking twink.”

“I want to save a scruffy looking twink,” Elliot called after me. “I’d want to save whoever I can.”

“Well you’re a one in a million kind of person,” I responded, slipping into the ship’s little bathroom.

I immediately grabbed a canister of shaving cream, spritzing some into the air. It kind of just hovered there, this solid ball of white. I dipped a pair of fingers into it, collecting a ration upon them before rubbing it into my cheeks. Thankfully the surface tension allowed it to remain in place.

I then grabbed the razor, dragging it across my face slowly.

As I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw a tired and hollow gaze staring back. Without Elliot there, to offer their ceaseless optimism, it became obvious how little I trusted their one-in-a-million plan. There would be no rescue, no hope of survival. At best, I’d get told to go fuck myself. Or even better, a hollow promise of rescue that would not materialize as the respondent promptly ignored my call.

A bead of moisture appeared in front of me, a small pearl of salty water.

It took me a moment to realize that it was a tear and soon it was joined by a second and third. And after that, the floodgates burst and I openly wept.

“I’m going to die,” I whispered. My voice was so hoarse. “This is it…”

I forced myself to close my eyes, covering my mouth with a hand in order to stem the tide of ugly noises streaming forth. There would be no more girls, no more happy times, no more adventures. No pleasant little retirement to Mars and no future life in a cozy little polyamorous marriage with a few cute girls.

There was nothing.

My life was effectively over and all I was doing was delaying the inevitable, holding back the tides of misfortune that had besieged me in this current position.

When I forced my eyes back open, there were red rings around them. A sea of little, nearly transparent, bulbs floated around me. Before they could linger for long, I pushed a button upon the sink and a faint vacuum came to life. It sucked up the tears and shaving cream into its hungry maw.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to smile. It was a hollow gesture but it was enough to force away the hopelessness which had gripped me so utterly.

“You just gotta trust, Elliot,” I whispered. “You owe them that much.”

With great care, I shaved the rest of my face and as the last follicles of hair disappeared a cute girl finally appeared in my reflection.

This may very well be the last time you’ll ever look this good.

I stood on the brink, wondering if that thought would plunge me back into another breakdown.

It didn’t.

Instead I snorted. “As if, I’ll look great until the day I die.”

I opened the bathroom door and slipped out, wincing as I saw that one of the cameras was instantly trained upon me.

Had Elliot heard?

“Is everything alright, Sekai?” Elliot asked.

I forced a smile. “Just peachy, Elliot. Sorry but it took a little while longer to pretty myself up. Never going to have a more important video call to make in my life, right? So better make sure that I look my best.”

They chuckled. “Fair enough. Though do know that I am here if you need anything.”

I nodded and floated back towards the cockpit. “Well how long do we have until we’re within radio range of Saturn.”

“About fifteen minutes, or so. I was about to turn on an alarm if you would’ve taken any longer.”

I made my way back to the cockpit, clambering into my pilot’s chair and affixing myself to it with a few thick straps.

“Do you mind turning on the external cameras? I want to get a good view of her.”

Elliot’s light gave me affirmation as one of the feeds turned on.

There she was, Saturn, in all her glory. During my first voyage, out here, I had gawked like a child at the sight of the gas giant. I was a girl from Jupiter who had never left its gravity well before. There were similarities between it and home but the differences were more striking. The colours were warmer and more vibrant. Jupiter was like twilight on Earth while Saturn was more like a sunrise.

Then there were the rings. It was impossible to ignore them, they stretched on for eons in every direction. They were powerful and beautiful, brightening up an environment that very little actual light could reach.

As this could very well be my last time gawking at it, I took in the view.

“Do you know why it’s called Saturn?” I asked.

“Why?” Elliot asked.

I snorted. “I wasn’t trying to be rhetorical. I actually can’t remember.”

“Oh!” Elliot chuckled softly. “My apologies, I thought you were trying to be philosophical or something. You have a look of wonderment in your eyes.” They cleared their artificial throat. “The planet is named after the Roman god of agriculture and wealth.”

“That seems pretty ironic considering Jupiter is the breadbasket for everything beyond Earth and Mars,” I said.

“Well believe it or not the Romans didn’t exactly have the greatest understanding of space travel nor the mineral make up of the outer systems,” Elliot said. “To them it was merely a strange dot in the sky. One that didn’t act like all the others.”

I nodded slowly. “Did they have a name for the god of hydrocarbons and rings?”

Elliot’s light brightened, though in a manner I knew was them trying to search their databases.

“Hydrocarbons, no,” they explained. “Rings… not so much either. I’m afraid the name may need to stick.”

“They probably wouldn’t change it if I asked,” I murmured. “Still think Saturn is kind of a silly name.”

“Well considering you’d be up against several centuries of human understanding I’d imagine the chance of you successfully changing it would be microscopic.”

“A hopeful miracle even?” I asked, flashing a knowing smile.

“A hopeful miracle even.”

A less than two percent chance.

A timer turned on upon my console, and with it, a computer generation started to play out. It displayed my ship, its intercept with the Saturn system, and the range of our radio. As of now, I was just outside of the outer rims of the system, though in a little while I might get lucky and pick up some dust collectors or small rock miners on the fringes.

“God I’m so fucked,” I grumbled. “These guys are already working on slim margins and I doubt they’ll want to waste fuel on saving my sorry ass.”

“You won’t know until you try,” Elliot replied. “Often poverty can create a sense of closeness with your fellow man. A sense of mutually assured survival.”

“Yeah or it can force you to be an asshole if you want to keep bread on your table,” I replied. “Because what’s more important, saving some strange lady who got herself stuck adrift or getting enough credits to keep you and your loved ones alive?”

Elliot sighed, obviously struggling for a response. “Some individuals do make more than just a mere living in these parts. Maybe they’ll be more sympathetic to your plight?”

“Maybe,” I said, not believing this in the slightest.

Though what did I honestly know, I was clearly a pessimist.

The seconds slowly ticked along, growing slower and slower as we neared that fateful point.

“How long will I be in range for?” I asked.

“Around twenty-to-thirty minutes depending on how far away from Saturn these rigs are operating,” Elliot said. “Should be enough for a few desperate calls.”

I nodded. “Mind turning on a camera so I can see myself?”

The monitor with Saturn switched over to one with myself. I smiled, trying my best to look as attractive and damsel-like as possible. Who knew, maybe chivalry would win me the day?

“Is there anything else you can think of that could help?” I asked.

They hummed, then their light brightened. “Maybe show a little bit of cleavage? I heard a woman can get a lot done with that.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t shoot down their request. Instead I groped at the top button on my pilot suit, popping it open. Then upon seeing my reflection, I decided to go with another one.

There we go. Now I’d evolved beyond merely being a filthy pilot. I was now a filthy pliot who just happened to have sex appeal.

I blew myself a kiss and glanced back towards the timer. It continued to chug along, the red numbers slowly making their way down to zero.

I could feel my pulse quicken by a noticeable degree and my skin grew clammy. Not the greatest time to start having an anxiety attack but when your life was literally on the line how could a girl stop herself?

I drew in a breath though it did little to hold back the tide of discomfort.

The minutes bled into mere seconds and as the final ten approached, a light flashed within the cabin, letting me know what was about to happen.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three!

Two!

One!

The timer reset to thirty minutes, this time in green, before slowly clicking its way down yet again.

Elliot’s light brightened to such an excitable degree. “And we’re live!”

---

Visit my Website if you Want to Find Ways to Support me and my Work