Final Broadcast

Entry 01

Mission Time: +23 hours since impact

Personal Recorder — Manual Activation

Mission Specialist — Dr. Adrian Hale

The ship groaned. It made a long, dragging sound, like nails on a chalkboard.

Okay. Focus.

Life Support is sitting at 32%, dropping steadily. I sealed off Module C, but the breach must be deeper in the hull. Still losing pressure. No comms, no thrusters, no rotation control. The gyros are offline. We’re drifting.

I’m running the numbers, but… well. There aren’t many numbers left to run.

I tried the long-range transmitter three times. First, I only attempt got static. Then, got nothing at all. On the third try the panel sparked and the entire array shut down completely. Great. The backup power cell’s blown. And, I don’t have the tools to replace it, even if I did have the oxygen to spare.

I don’t know why I’m recording this. Maybe because I hate the silence. Maybe because I like the sound of my own voice. Maybe because I can’t give up. Not yet.

I’ll keep at it in any case the file is recoverable sometime in the future.

Status report:

- Structural integrity is currently unstable

- Hull fracture located in Sector 4B

- Oxygen down to thirty-one minutes

- Crew… just me.

Unfortunately, Naomi and Marcus didn’t make it. Naomi was closest. The decompression pulled her into the bulkhead before I could even hit the lockdown. Marcus tried to seal the secondary hatch, but the blast threw him into the support beam. I dragged him in here with me, but… it was too late. He was already gone.

I keep replaying the way Marcus looked at me, like he thought I could fix any of this. As if I had more control than I did. I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve done more.

I wish I could tell their families… I tried. Tried my best to do something. Tried my best to save them.

At least… they didn’t have to suffer.

Miguel… Sophie… I know this probably won’t reach you in time. The antenna’s fried, and there’s half a kilometer of metal between me and the dark void waiting outside. But I’ll try anyway.

You’re going to hear a lot from me. Very soon.

Entry 02

I tightened the seal around Module C again, but the pressure hasn’t changed. Still… doing something feels better than doing nothing.

I rationed the last of the water. Enough for maybe a day if I’m careful. The temperature dropped another two degrees. I can see my breath now. It's kind of pretty in a weird sort of way.

I ran a systems check out of habit. I don’t know why. Maybe because I’ve done it every morning for the past six months. Wake up, stretch, check the gauges, log the readings, eat, work out, run more tests, and go to bed.

I keep thinking. About Sunday mornings. About our Sunday mornings. Our pancakes that tasted like charcoal, Miguel swatting the smoke away with a dish towel, Sophie sitting on the counter swinging her feet, announcing that Dad “burned them on purpose” because he “liked the texture” of the charred bits.

God, she laughed so hard that day. That little hiccup-laugh she gets when she’s trying to breathe.

I don’t know why I’m saying all of this. I started out meaning to give another status update. But habits die out when you’re alone.

Anyways, I’ll check the stabilizers next.

Entry 03

The stabilizers are a lost cause. Everything I touch either sparks or fails. I’m trying to be careful, but the suit wasn’t designed for this kind of hard labor. My hands feel clunky. Heavy.

I could list the failures again, but I think I’m done. Done pretending these logs are for Mission Control. So Miguel, if you ever hear this… if someone recovers this recording and somehow gets it to you. Just listen.

I’m sorry. I can’t help but think about you. Think about last the last time I saw you. You standing in the doorway, arms crossed over your chest, trying to talk me out of it. Sophie passed out on the couch because she insisted on waiting up to give me the bracelet she had made herself.

I remember. You asked me to promise I’d come home. And I made up some bad joke about probabilities and mission risks. You rolled your eyes at me, but the look on your face… I should have said something else. Something different.

The temperature dropped again. I should check the heaters before the cold eats the rest of the power.

Entry 04

The heaters are barely holding. I can feel the cold creeping into my suit now. It settles into the joints first, then the fingers. Makes everything slower.

I wasn’t planning to record again so soon, but… I’ve been thinking about you, Soph.

You probably grew an inch taller since I left. You always shot up like a weed when I wasn’t looking. I bet you’ve already memorized three new chess openings too. The aggressive ones, no doubt. You always liked the dramatic moves. Queen sacrifices, knight takes. I pretended to let you win the last time we played, but you didn’t need the help at all. You’re better than me now. I hope you know that.

You once asked me if astronauts ever feel scared. I believe you were seven at the time. You had this tiny blue flashlight on and you kept shining it in my face like I was a person brought in for questioning.

I told you the truth:

Only before something important happens.

Sometimes I think about that. About what I meant by it.

I wish I could show you this view right now. Earth drifts slowly past the view port, blue, green, and white. You’d draw it perfectly. You always were great with colors.

Entry 05

The pressure dropped again. I heard it this time, a soft hiss behind one of the panels, like the station exhaling a deep breath. I tried sealing it, but the patch kit’s empty and my hands…well they just don’t feel like cooperating anymore.

I should make this one short.

I’ve been thinking. Not about the numbers or the repairs or the odds I’ll survive. I’ve been thinking about all the things I meant to say when I still had the chance. Like how I’m proud of you, Soph, for how curious you’ve become. How brave you’ve grown to be. How you never pretended to hide your feelings. Something I wish I had learned from you years ago.

And Miguel… I owe you the truth. You asked me once why I volunteered for this mission. Why I’d leave home right after promising I’d stay. I fed you some bullshit line about duty and opportunity and scientific achievement.

But the truth is simpler than you might think:

I wanted to feel useful again. Wanted to prove I still had value out here. Prove that I wasn’t aging out. That I wasn’t… slowing down.

I think I was scared of becoming someone who needed more than he offered.

When I left Earth, I told myself I’d make it up to you both when I got back. That I’d take you camping again, even though I forgot the tent poles the last time we went. That I’d be there for Sophie’s school play. That I’d fix the leaky faucet under the sink like I promised. But I kept putting it off.

The panel hissed again. It’s getting louder.

I’m going to close my eyes now. Just for a minute.

Entry 06

I didn’t mean to sleep.

I must’ve drifted off sitting against the bulkhead. The suit alarm woke me up, oxygen dipped below twenty percent. I should feel panicked about that, but strangely… I don’t.

There’s a stillness settling over the ship now. A gentle hush. The kind you only hear in hospitals late at night, or in the woods right before it snows. It doesn’t feel hostile anymore. Just… calm.

Earth passed through the viewport again while I was out. A thin crescent of light on the edge. Soft blue fading into shadow. I don’t know if it’s turning or if I am. Hard to tell the difference when you’re floating.

I’m not going to pretend I have more fixes left in me. I barely have the strength to lift my arms. Even the cold feels distant now.

I’ve been replaying moments in my head. Sophie drawing stars on the fogged kitchen window. Miguel humming while he chopped vegetables. The sound of our old porch steps creaking when the three of us sat out there after dinner, watching the fireflies blink in and out of existence.

I didn’t realize how much I miss it.

The feeling of it.

I think… I think I’ve stopped fighting the idea that I might not ever see either of you again.

But I’m not scared. Not anymore.

Entry 07

I don’t think I have much time left.

The suit alarm keeps going off, but it’s quieter now. Or maybe I am. I keep reaching up to shut it off and missing the button by a few inches. My hands feel like they’re wrapped in wet cement.

I don’t want to talk about the systems anymore. Or the ship. Or the cold. I want to talk about you.

Miguel… There are so many things I wish I had said to you. You deserved someone who could say them easily, without stumbling over every word like it was some kind of math equation. But you stayed with me anyway. You stayed, and you carried more than your share of the weight. I hope you know how deeply I loved you for that. Still do.

Soph… my little star. I can almost see you rolling your eyes at me for calling you that. You’re probably too old for it now. Too grown up. I wish I could’ve seen it. All of it. You winning the next chess tournament. You learning how to braid your own hair. You discovering your next favorite song.

Listen, the two of you… you made my life bigger than any universe could hold. You made it warm. And full. And—

Hold on. I need a second.

The air’s thin. Hard to think straight. Hard to breathe.

I just want you to know, both of you, that you were the best parts of me. Every single one. And if I had one more morning, one more burned pan, one more hiccup laugh. I’d be fine.

[End of Transmission]