...mining colony. mineral-rich. cognosher-positive. cognosher-dormant. safe for temporary habitation. slated for eventual destruction…

On Earth my husband and I had nothing.

On Mendeleev-1 we had hope:

“Build a homestead. Mine. As long as the planet stays inactive, you remain Vectorien employees. The moment it awakens, you have forty-eight hours to get to the evacuation pods. When you do: Congratulations on your retirement. Enjoy your pension!”

No one knew for how long the planet would sleep.

Everyone knew about the cognoshers: interdimensional alien beasts that sensed and feasted upon human fear.

Under that shadow we lived.

Time passed.

It was a simple life, hard but predictable, the rhythms of the day magnified by the monotony of the weather and the changing of imagined seasons…

The cycles unfolded, one after the other in coldness and desolation.

I gave birth to Oan, then Erubi.

Then a mine shaft collapsed, killing my husband.

Vectorien paid out a small sum and paid for his burial, but their lawyers maintained that the contract we had signed was still binding. My husband and I had made separate agreements. As Mendeleev-1 had not yet awoken and I was still alive, I remained a Vectorien employee, with all the mining obligations that entailed.

I tried to endure alone, but I knew that with two young children and output requirements to meet, I could not succeed.

“Mendeleev-1 is not for the faint of heart or for single mothers,” a Vectorien representative told me. “Chemicals have always been available upon request.”

I put out a notice for help.

That is how I encountered Arkady.

He was a decade older than I, a tough man hardened by experiences he never shared. In fact, he shared almost nothing and could not speak at all, which perhaps is what bound us together. Although he was a bachelor, it was not like that between us. He built a cabin for himself next to the homestead, and we lived in harmony.

For months, we lived—