The silence of the lunar vacuum is a physical weight, pressing against the polycarbonate visors of our thermal suits, suffocating and profound. But inside my helmet, there is no silence.
There is only the screaming, blinding static of my own degrading nervous system.
I am slumped against the base of the Third Anchor, my left arm completely numb, a dead weight resting against the shifting, golden liquid metal of the spire. The neuro-regenerators in my suit’s life support system are pumping heavy sedatives and caloric supplements into my bloodstream, but they do nothing to dull the diffuse, jagged agony that crackles behind my eyes. Every time my heart beats, a spike of white-hot electricity shoots down my spine, settling into the marrow of my bones.
Isla. Look at me.
Kade’s voice is a d
