The Lucky Hundred

Chapter 1: The Draw

In the ⟨home⟩, four faces lit blue by the screen.

⟨Character 3⟩: Dad, turn it up. Elon’s about to say the numbers. Love, stop walking on my keyboard, I’m trying to watch history. This is history, right? Like, the biggest thing since the internet?

⟨Character 4⟩: Snowy’s hiding under the couch because Dad yelled at the last test flight. If we get picked, do we get our own rocket? JP says he’d go just for the zero-gravity basketball. I think he’s lying, though.

⟨Character 2⟩: Nobody’s going anywhere yet, ⟨Character 4⟩. I made chai. It’s getting cold while you three stare at that screen. And ⟨Character 1⟩, the timer dings when it dings, stop checking your apps like the oven is writing you a letter.

⟨Character 4⟩: Wait, wait. That’s our zip code. Dad, that’s our name on the screen! Patel family, Patels, that’s a different Patel, right? No! No, it’s us! It says INDIAN-AMERICAN-ASTRONAUT-WANNABES.

⟨Character 3⟩: I am officially a Martian princess,” that’s my term for future royalty,” and Love is my court jester. She just licked her paw; that means agreement. Can a queen even live on Mars? Yes. Because I will.

⟨Character 4⟩: Eighty, ninety, one hundred. We’re the last names on the list!” We’re literally the lucky hundredth. That has to be lucky, that can’t be bad. Can we bring our pets? Because Snowy gets anxious without his blanket, and Love likes this one sunspot on the floor. I’m serious, Dad, this is important. Who do I call, who’s the number?

⟨Character 2⟩: Your heart is still pounding from last week when you thought you flunked math. Musk’s team says cats and dogs can come if they pass health checks. But sweetheart, this is not a scholarship. This is a one-way thing, maybe forever. I have my work at Infosys, I have bhindi masala to teach ten people, and you were just starting that huge mess in your room, ⟨Character 3⟩. How do you pack a life like that into fifty pounds a person?

⟨Character 1⟩: I”ll be honest with you three: I coded a simulation for exactly this headline six hours ago while Joy chewed my cord. I know it’s reckless, it’s expensive, and the AI PR promo part is basically candy. But I also know it’s a job nobody has ever done, and our family is exactly the right shape for it. I already packed my laptop in my head, twice. Trust me just once. ⟨Character 2⟩, the moon vote doesn’t climb onto roofs alone.

⟨Character 2⟩: Trust me just once, he says, and throws in a roof to keep me quiet. Keep my daughter and sons calm; that is the only roof we agreed on. I need your father to do proofs or something or else my job will just revolve around calculating risk before I serve up noodles at “At this hour” party.

⟨Character 3⟩: Please please please, Mom. When cold night gets really hard, you can nap the whole red cross space. Uncle says I run well; sample my math and I. Travel instead to sand, maybe I would defend us both on the most interesting time with kids my age, the rarest of animals. What if a delay gives Dad mind stress? Probably wait tomorrow. Can go jump fast. The shower drains all good. Deal?

⟨Character 4⟩: Dogs —

⟨Character 4⟩: — dogs —

⟨Character 2⟩: All right, all right. Pets go one-condition. Your dad gets one cargo bay this heavy and wrong, we all agree. So if Joy goes the legal, it wouldn’t comply and couldn’t commit. Eat cake today before we fall ten more words behind Dad? Lift the remote.

⟨Character 1⟩: Napping any parent days without decision is just wasting exactly eleven of ours anyway. So yes, oh boss and princess who owns Mars, we will cut into the kitchen globe let; I will help code actual water flags for so much dry, your mom gets called at least the fresh. Do not pay for a dog yet. Could bring animals who slow only until machine forgets to earn certain code; oh finally hard labor returned.

⟨Character 4⟩: The dogs already can — they’d sense each one soft be worthy weight until twelve-six. When weather storm works last, on Joy tries sleeping fast; pet or strange top floor your future help watch alien animal can wash—mites! “Contraband by the sky fall!” Hope case barks awake outside the top all planet at cold, and loves listen at zero bite tatic safe while anything earth right in entire sun quiet step exactly red footprint good first future milk tank.” Snowy pees forward to near smell carefully then food needs first home, like a low night until a b am kind. Hope she prays for cold.

neeha: Meeting each other halfway is fine, but snow-sitting the side panel also your area smell. Get ready so ⟨Character 4⟩ laughs loud can use cloud jam blanket bed we find; good future fun food from light pile so no foot missing coat. Nothing must yell very careful.

Outside, the mountain held still, and inside, four people held each other's names. Joy put one paw on ⟨Character 1⟩'s knee and let out a single, certain bark.

Chapter 2: Preparations

Training center, Arizona. A room with white walls, rubber floors, and a treadmill that measures how fast your heart goes when the air runs thin. Anand pulls his jacket tighter and shakes ⟨Character 1⟩’s hand three times.

Anand: “Three times for luck. That’s a rule I made up in tenth grade and I refuse to fix it now.”

⟨Character 1⟩: “I respect a man with systems. What do you code?”

Anand: “Navigation scripts. Mostly checking that our rocket argues with the stars and loses on purpose. You?”

⟨Character 1⟩: “Backend stuff. Server up, server down. I already miss it, which is embarrassing. But given that a machine will keep us alive for seven months, I’ll take machine problems over asteroid ones. I started a little watchdog for our life support, breath by breath.”

Anand: “Show me after lunch. If it crashes, I’ll bring a fake certificate that says it never happened.”

⟨Character 2⟩: “Sheet trays at noon, then peeling three hundred cucumbers. I came here expecting science and I got pickle duty. Fine, though, because I taste everything before it goes out, and the kitchen crew has stopped pretending not to laugh at my notes.”

⟨Character 4⟩: “They stick sensors on our heads and ask if we get angry in traffic. Of course we do. Everyone does. Then they swung us from a zip-line like a bad math problem.”

⟨Character 2⟩: “Lower your voice, the psychology room echoes, and everyone in that room heard you call their IQ an IQ of seven.”

⟨Character 4⟩: “Correctly, though.”

⟨Character 3⟩: “I did sixty jumps in six minutes. Top of the chart. Want me to carry you both up the ladder?”

⟨Character 4⟩: “Don’t rub it in.”

⟨Character 3⟩: “I’m carrying a handbag with a mewing passenger in it, so technically I’m already working harder than anyone here.”

⟨Character 4⟩: “Does she ride zero-gravity or does she orbit?”

⟨Character 3⟩: “In my carrier, draped, ears flat, looking like a queen with a grudge.”

The launch pad, days later. The coast wind drove salt into everyone’s eyes. ⟨Character 2⟩ stood at the ramp with her boarding slip folded so many times the paper had gone as soft as cloth.

⟨Character 2⟩: “I don’t want the taking off. I don’t want it, I don’t want the shaking up there, the count, the silence, the bad sleep. I can’t find any way around my insides.”

⟨Character 3⟩: “Mum. We are a team. You always say that when someone pulls a flounder face, and this is one. I’m here, Dad’s here, ⟨Character 4⟩’s carrying clothes for every planet we know of.”

⟨Character 4⟩: “I sent JP the coordinates of our landing site, and the code to my old game so he can find me. He sent back four letters. He spelled fail wrong. Twice!”

⟨Character 2⟩: “Then write it back, correctly, and tell him the washing lines on Mars will look at him later.”

⟨Character 3⟩: “Sun’s setting. If I stand very still, Love against the latch, this is the best frame I will ever take.”

⟨Character 1⟩ put one worn hand above ⟨Character 2⟩’s and the two held still together, all tense, until the engines found a hum you feel more in the bones than the ears, and the whole family boarded together, looking back at Earth.

Chapter 3: Launch Day

The countdown reached zero, and the rocket tore away from the launch pad in a Tower of fire.

⟨Character 2⟩: Oh, oh, oh. I can’t look. I can’t. ⟨Character 1⟩, tell me when it’s over. Tell me when we’re up. My whole chest is shaking. I thought I was ready. I was not ready. But I’m holding on. I’m holding on to you.

⟨Character 1⟩: You’re doing great. Just breathe with me. In through the nose, out through the mouth. The thrust is supposed to feel like this. Three g’s, give or take. That’s normal. See? The numbers on my screen are all green. You don’t have to look. Just hold my hand. I’ve got you. We’re going to Mars, all of us, together.

⟨Character 4⟩: Whoa! Dad, my cheeks are pulling back! It’s like a roller coaster but a thousand times bigger. Can you see the launch pad? I can’t see anything. Everything is shaking. Is Love okay? Is Joy barking? I think I heard Joy bark. That was definitely a bark.

⟨Character 3⟩: Leo is fine. I’ve got his carrier strapped to my chest. He’s not happy, but he’s fine. Love is hiding in my jacket. Her claws are all the way in my sweater. It hurts a little. I don’t care. The sky outside the window is turning from blue to black. The blue is going away. That’s us leaving Earth. That’s really us.

Hours later, the engines cut off, and everything became light.

⟨Character 3⟩: I can’t stop spinning. I push off and I just keep going. Watch this. I’ll do a slow flip. Love is floating next to me like a little balloon. Her tail is sticking straight up. She keeps meowing at me like it’s my fault. I think she likes it, actually. She just doesn’t know she likes it.

⟨Character 4⟩: ⟨Character 3⟩, watch out! I’m coming through! This is the best. I bounced off the ceiling and then off the wall and then off Dad’s leg. Dad, you’re a launch pad. JP would love this. I’m going to record a video for him later where I’m upside down. He’s going to think I’m lying. I’m not lying. I’m floating.

⟨Character 2⟩: Alright, everyone. Dinner is going to be tricky. I have these squeeze tubes and these magnetic trays. Nothing is going to stay on a plate. ⟨Character 4⟩, don’t laugh. I already lost one tomato. It’s somewhere near the ceiling. ⟨Character 1⟩, can you grab it? No, wait. Leave it. It’s too far. I’ll just call it space food. Eat your noodles before they float away.

⟨Character 1⟩: I’m updating the water recycler code right now. I found a loop where the filtration runs twice when it only needs to run once. That wastes about a liter a day per person. Over a year, that’s a whole tank. Small fixes, big savings. Speaking of savings, ⟨Character 3⟩, please stop spinning Love. She’s a cat, not a satellite.

Outside the window, Earth had shrunk to a blue marble, and the black held it like something precious.

Chapter 4: Mars Bound

Days on the ship run together like the stars outside.

⟨Character 4⟩: Hey JP, it’s me again. We’re four months in. The stars are everywhere. I record these and send them, but you get them a year late. By then I’ll be on Mars. Anyway, guess what? I finished level forty-seven of Cosmic Quest. No big deal. Just kidding, it’s a huge deal. You’d be proud.

⟨Character 3⟩: Love, come here. No, not that way, float this way! Look, I’ll do a spin. You copy me. There, like that. I’m recording us for a VR dance show. We’ll call it Love in Zero G. The cat is a natural. She’s better than me at staying still in the air. See? Her tail is doing a little curly thing around her. Okay, hold that pose.

⟨Character 2⟩: Dinner’s ready. I made dal and rice, sort of. The rice floats so you have to catch it. And I saved the last of the mango pickle for tonight. I’m the only one who can cook in zero-g without making a mess. Years of practice. Even the dog is tired of my cooking — see? Joy is hiding under the console. No scraps for you, girl.

⟨Character 1⟩: Hold still, ⟨Character 4⟩. I’m almost done. This algorithm should spin the whole habitat like a giant can, and we’ll feel gravity again. Ten meters per second squared, no more floating soup. Then your mom can cook without chasing the pan. I coded it on my laptop and I’m not letting anyone take my laptop away ever. Even if the world ends.

⟨Character 4⟩: It’s not the world, Dad, it’s just Earth. That’s what I miss. The way the ground felt under my feet. We have cake now, but I miss the bakery on Main Street. They gave me a candle every year. This is okay, but…

⟨Character 2⟩: Wait right there, birthday boy. I have something. I packed a little stash of tomato seeds from the garden. The ones your dad hates to prune. We’ll grow them on Mars. That’s our Main Street and our bakery. Right there in a packet. Happy Birthday, sweetie.

⟨Character 3⟩: Also I caught your birthday cake! Made from freeze-dried strawberry. Not a real cake, but you can hit it and it bounces. Your wish doesn’t matter. You get one? Sorry. I mean, you wish and it comes and— okay.

michael: Flight crew here. Commencing sleep cycle in ten. Make sure your pets are secured. Good night from the ship to Earth.

⟨Character 4⟩: Goodnight, Sleeping Bear. Tell Snowy I said hi. And Love already curled into a weird zero-g ball near the vent. That’s her sleep spot.

Outside the dining module’s port, the blue marble kept its place, half-lit and patient, rolling slowly toward them.

Chapter 5: The Red Planet

Mars filled the window like a held breath. It began to take up more and more of the sky, and a family gathered to look at it.

⟨Character 3⟩: It’s beautiful and also a little bit scary. The whole planet is just sitting there with all those craters, waiting for somebody to walk on them. What if the dust is thicker than they promised, Dad? What if Joy sinks in past her paws?

⟨Character 1⟩: Joy will be fine if I have anything to say about it. She stays with me on the ramp until I shovel a proper path. I’ve been checking the landing coordinates for weeks, and the ground where we’re going is flat, hardened by ice and rock. Love and him will be the very first pets officially on Mars, which has to count for something memorable.

⟨Character 4⟩: They should get tiny badges that say First Dog and First Cat. Love’s is going to fly out of her collar the second she feels the gravity. We’ll walk around and I’ll be taller on the inside. It’s going to be my new game forever.

⟨Character 2⟩: Hold on. A lot of things will get more easy here, and a lot will get more hard. Slow down until we know which is which. I packed the tomato seeds the way Amma used to, wrapped in a muslin cloth, and they’re the promise of a kitchen no Martian lands outside without. If I forget cooking jobs, it’s dust-block.

⟨Character 3⟩: Cook whatever, Mummy. We brought our kitchen. But if there are little tornados of dirt, you better put your helmet on fear, because I plan to walk on bar. My feet are crawling inside my socks right now.

The coupling latches counted themselves down, and if feet sunk into faint cinnamon grit seconds later, the family stepped out onto the red plain holding each other’s harness cords.

⟨Character 4⟩: One two, down. Oh I feel light as a page. Do not tell snowy this—but I can jump like a astronaut with four toes. Wait, ⟨Character 3⟩! You feet first!

⟨Character 2⟩: I got you, both of you! Fists down, palm full of dust like a padded run, slowly, deep breath, feet click to find corners. Kiss inside of filters in. Now smack gloves, loosen dust once. ⟨Character 3⟩, are better.

⟨Character 3⟩: Urgh, dhool. Air smells fake-drinking. Wait—the sun from the glass is tight and wide. See.

⟨Character 1⟩: If those wags are raring, here—cheese from Jupiter kept cold for thirty days in that pod. Align the radio wifi dish, round the power receiver ports, set the antenna square under cables where last of green sockets wait. Status. Hmm. Uplink—up.

The tether lights snapped green. Far above stone cap, small as tail lights, the Earth hung blue and still.

⟨Character 4⟩: There it is. Home in a three fists porthole behind dust. Are we ping jar?

⟨Character 2⟩: Yes and yes. Since your lunch.

Chapter 6: Home Sweet Habitat

Inside the habitat, the family turns a gray metal room into something that feels like theirs.

⟨Character 2⟩: Okay, that corner gets the hydroponics. I want to see green when I cook. And I need space for the spice rack. ⟨Character 1⟩, can you move your wires?

⟨Character 1⟩: Already on it. Just one more cable, and then my workstation is done. I’ll monitor oxygen, water, and power from right here. Also, I’ll play some coding music. Maybe a little soft rock?

⟨Character 4⟩: No rock, Dad. That’s my corner for Snowy. And my star charts. I’ve got a window here. All mine. So don’t take it.

⟨Character 3⟩: Fine, ⟨Character 4⟩. Love and I will take the other spare spot near the bookshelf. I’m starting a new comic: ‘Love Cat on Mars’. First issue: ‘The Great Dust Bunny Rebellion’. She’s just a regular cat, but she saves the colony by napping on the solar panels.

⟨Character 2⟩: Let’s go to the hydroponics bay. I saved those tomato seeds from Earth. We’ll plant them today. ⟨Character 3⟩, you get the first one. ⟨Character 4⟩, you hold the tweezers. Don’t drop anything yet!

⟨Character 3⟩: I can’t believe it worked! That little green sprout. It’s so tiny. I’m crying a little. Happy tears. Promise. Love is staring at it like she’s guarding it. She thinks it’s a slow alien plant pet.

⟨Character 4⟩: Mom, I’m hungry. Can we eat the tomatoes now?

⟨Character 2⟩: Soon, child. First, we harvest one. We slice it into six pieces. Tomato that comes from our own hands on Mars. Save these seeds like money. Or like secrets: tied closed with a small curl of brown color, like an old picture memory.

That night, the oxygen monitor beeps.

⟨Character 1⟩: Glitch. Give me a second. I’ll swap it out. There. No

⟨Character 4⟩: Mom, the first tomato is not as sour as the ones on Earth. It sticks to my plate and tastes like I sank my teeth into a soft rainbow.

Chapter 7: Dust and Thunder

A sudden wind picked up outside the habitat. The sky turned the color of butterscotch. The colonists hurried inside.

⟨Character 1⟩: The seals on the east airlock look fine. I tightened them last week. But I left my wrench outside while I was fixing the antenna. I need to go back out there and get it.

⟨Character 4⟩: Dad, you can’t go out now. The storm is getting worse. I can see the dust rolling like a wall from here. It’s huge. Let’s just wait it out.

⟨Character 1⟩: It’s just a tool, ⟨Character 4⟩. I know. But without it I can’t fix the backup oxygen scrubber tomorrow. The storm might pass faster than we think. I’ll be quick. You know I can’t stand waiting around.

⟨Character 2⟩: ⟨Character 1⟩, no. We need you in here, helping us get ready. The antenna can wait. Your family needs you safe. Let the other engineers handle the solar panel outside. We all need to pitch in inside.

The habitat shook. Containers rattled on shelves. Outside, dust swallowed the light. Inside, the lights flickered and dimmed. ⟨Character 2⟩ grabbed a flashlight and started giving orders.

⟨Character 2⟩: ⟨Character 3⟩, help ⟨Character 4⟩ seal the inner door. ⟨Character 4⟩, stay close to your sister. I need you to check the water filters, both of you. I’ll set up a safe corner with blankets near the radio.

⟨Character 3⟩: I’ve got Love with me. She’s trembling, but she’s calm. I’m thinking about that time the window got covered … of being buried in sand, but not in a scary way, just … under a duvet of it. This whole place is shaking like one of ⟨Character 4⟩’s games.

⟨Character 4⟩: Dad is still outside! He’s fixing a solar panel with the others. I can hear their radios crackling. He could get hurt! I want to go help, but I know I can’t. We do plumbing, right? Water pipes, leaks, not rescue missions.

The radio hissed. Then it went silent. The clock ticked. Two minutes passed. The only sound was the storm. Then the radio crackled again.

⟨Character 1⟩: I’m back, I’m back! The panel was about to fly off, and we secured it. Sorry about the signal. A gust knocked my helmet antenna off its mount. I am fine. Coming in now. Over.

⟨Character 3⟩: Thank goodness! Love wants to draw about what this feels like — the dust swirling around the window in giant swirls, and the shaking, and the grey storm. It’s a blanket made of flour, throwing a tantrum and messing up all the furniture.

neeha: When this is over, we are going to have a serious talk about airlock safety. But right now, I am proud of how calm everyone stayed. Let’s finish sealing and count supplies. And after the worst, we can survey damage, especially the antenna fittings.

The storm raged most of the night. Morning arrived, and thick Martian dust covered every transparent ceramic window. A person had to sweep to make the dust move.

dawn: Everyone, into the common room! Spring cleaning time. ⟨Character 2⟩ has promised first one to fill the dust bin gets first choice of breakfast cherry tomatoes.

Chapter 8: Midpoint Reversal: The Call from Home

Morning in the habitat. Cherry tomatoes still sat on the table, and the dust pan was barely half full.

⟨Character 1⟩: Wait wait wait. Nobody move. My console just blinked. There is a signal coming in from Earth — very weak, very old. It’s been traveling for days. Maybe longer. Can you all hear that static? That is not static. That is a message.

⟨Character 2⟩: Are you sure it isn’t the storm chewing on the antenna again? ⟨Character 1⟩, we just cleaned all the filters. Let it wait until you’ve had breakfast. There’s a bowl of oats going cold.

⟨Character 3⟩: No, Mom, let him check. If it’s really Earth, it could be anything. It could be JP. It could be Grandpa. I can help — there’s a repeating sequence at the start of every burst, like a skeleton of numbers. If I copy them down, maybe they make a picture.

⟨Character 1⟩: Yes. Yes. Use your pencil, not your tablet. Pencil works when the screen flutters. Every fifth number is prime — that’s a marker. Okay, say them back to me.

⟨Character 3⟩: Thirty? No, twenty-nine. Forty-one. ⟨Character 1⟩, every fifth number is prime like you said. Here, hold this. I have the pattern turned into a square.

⟨Character 1⟩: That’s it. The decoder opened the file. Look, it’s a video, tiny like a postage stamp. It’s Elon, in front of a whiteboard. He recorded it himself.

Elon: Hello, Mars One. This is a short briefing. A return ship — ''Bhayya'' — is ready. One vehicle, one flight window. Not all one hundred of you, but a number. A hundred and ten metric tons. Think it over as a colony. You’ve got about one Earth month. More after this, but the windows matter. Warm food to all crew.

Later, the tomatoes were gone and no one cared.

⟨Character 2⟩: A return ship. I’m going to say the truth: the hydroponics tomatoes this morning were the sweetest ones since we got here. Sharada, from sector four, swapped tips with me — and she’s coming over later with mint seeds. I have something here. Not love, but something. I don’t think leaving is right.

⟨Character 1⟩: I made three spread sheets before lunch. Fuel. Weight. Does the auto route work? I crash if I don’t think. On Earth, we also were us. But the mission said colonize. One ship. If it fails after boarding, everyone left behind loses the ship for another decade. I don’t trust the numbers.

⟨Character 3⟩: But Janelle gets this again really soon, and Love needs a vet. Snowy has a little cough. Remember Snowy as a kitten, sick? I want my friends here — but internet on Mars is always delayed. Delay is fine for projects. Delay is horrible. I don’t know which month to want.

⟨Character 4⟩: JP can’t wait to show me the VR of his Earth house and his bike, but here Ved and Linzi start designing my super plus computer tonight. They call it ‘the chits module.' I want to see what I make on Mars and send it to dad-made system, too. JP’s going to whisper-run time back home.

⟨Character 2⟩: Then we don’t decide this morning. Someone has a jar of persimmon paint going tacky in the day bins. It’s really choice who loses to the garden shed. Soon let’s learn about the waiting-from crew. We can pencil spin for tonight who gets bragging privilege if we’re still staying, whichever. For now, wash your tails and mind mine if we’re through here. Blown doors need raking.

Chapter 9: The Blue Marble Dome

The dome cafeteria at dusk, trays clinking, the whole colony quieter than usual.

⟨Character 2⟩: Sit, sit. ⟨Character 3⟩, move your tray so ⟨Character 4⟩ can see the window. I saved you the last slice of that potato bread, and there’s tomato on top, real tomato from our own bay. Meera from hydroponics says my solution ratios are the best on the whole colony, can you imagine, me, best at something out here. I keep thinking about the vote tonight and my hands go shaky, so I stir soup instead.

⟨Character 3⟩: Mom, you’re famous. Half the cafeteria came to ask about your sprouts today. Love has been following the sunbeam around the dome since lunch and now she’s asleep on the seed trays, which is illegal but nobody has the heart. ⟨Character 4⟩, do you still keep two lists in your notebook, stay list on the left page, Earth list on the right?

⟨Character 4⟩: I do, but both pages are full now. JP sends me pictures of snow by our old house and I want to be cold so badly, then I think about standing here at midnight with the big telescope and I don’t. Dr. Caldeira says I’m ready to take over the night star log next week. I’ll write your name at the top of stay list, ⟨Character 3⟩, if you do mine on Earth list.

⟨Character 1⟩: Deal’s not far off. I ran the return-ship numbers every way I could. There are seats for ninety if the skeleton crew overlaps jobs, and hovering them in the spin lets me pick a tight launch window. Here’s my list page: people first, land second. That was hard for me to write, honestly. Above us, look, Earth’s up.

The dome lights dim for evening count, and the small blue marble hangs still beyond the glass.

⟨Character 2⟩: Look at how slow that blue dot moves out there, like it’s thinking.

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Night settles at the rendezvous point. Mara hands out blankets near a rock the size of a small bus, where forty seven people have already chosen whether they are staying or going.

⟨Character 4⟩: Sixteen is the most stacked anybody has ever been about going home. Even you. Do we know yet? I counted twice and got a different number feelings both times.

⟨Character 3⟩: Mara made a map in the dust with a stick of what the ship takes. The line for going runs past the cracked rock. The line for staying stops at three names and one of them is Love.

⟨Character 2⟩: ⟨Character 3⟩ followed Kesh’s beans with her flashlight and felt a little proud. That is a thing a colony does not need to say out loud. Each patch green to keep lungs busy and dinner real, and that is what keeping is.

⟨Character 1⟩: The part I keep chipping at is earlier than the sand. It is a riddle with no seam. Almost two weeks after landing I fixed the solar array alone though Toma offered a second cutter so just me till dark. I couldn’t ask.

⟨Character 4⟩: Listen here, commander earth dad acting strangely late at night. Better an honest broken finger broken because pain meant still doing. That is more cowboy but everyone resets to zero hair colors.

⟨Character 3⟩: See exhibit carefully late at night, my Martian trophy scar, nineteen milliseconds inside low-gravity at school time. I will trade short recess sticks yay snub where nothing wrong again. You needed to race or have you skipped the ending cape, problem. Hello human resources dad.

⟨Character 2⟩: Eight sleeps to decision here ignoring that railing cave one uses who throws themselves into door frames off count marbles. Before blanket pretend seven sleeps and everyone still plans as if morning belonged here.

Chapter 11: Eight Sleeps

Inside the habitat, the lights dim to night. The hum of the air recycler sounds like a tired lullaby.

⟨Character 2⟩: Eight sleeps to decision. That’s what I said, right? Ignore the railing cave and the one who throws themselves into door frames off count marbles. Before blanket, pretend seven sleeps, and everyone still plans as if morning belonged here.

⟨Character 4⟩: I counted seven too. But then Snowy knocked over my star chart, and I had to start over. Now it’s eight again. I don’t mind. Eight is a good number for thinking.

⟨Character 3⟩: Love keeps staring at the blue marble through the dome. I think she misses Earth. Or maybe she just likes the color. Cats see blue better than we do, you know.

⟨Character 2⟩: She’s not the only one. I miss the smell of rain on hot pavement. But then I look at the first tomato ripening in the hydroponics bay, and I think, I grew that. From a seed. In Mars dust.

⟨Character 1⟩: My code did a funny thing today. I wrote a subroutine to monitor water usage, and it flagged itself as ‘excessive.’ I laughed for ten minutes. Then I fixed it. But I keep thinking: even machines get confused sometimes.

⟨Character 4⟩: JP sent a message. He says the leaves are changing color back home. He sent a picture of a red maple, and it looks kind of like Mars. Except wetter.

⟨Character 3⟩: I drew a comic today. Love Cat on Mars. She has a little astronaut helmet and she saves the colony from a giant dust bunny. It’s silly, but it made ⟨Character 4⟩ laugh.

⟨Character 2⟩: Seven or eight, it doesn’t matter. What matters is we decide together. And whatever we choose, we’ll still have tomatoes. I saved the seeds, remember?

⟨Character 1⟩: Seeds of home. That’s a good way to put it. I think I can sleep now. Joy’s already snoring by my feet.

Outside, the wind quiets. The dome glows faintly, holding back the red dust. Inside, five breathing shapes slow into sleep, one small blue marble still spinning in the window.

Chapter 12: The Blue Marble

The habitat hums at its lowest setting, lights dimmed to amber.

⟨Character 1⟩: The last of the sweeping is done. Dust still gets in, it always will, but tonight it just sits on the sill like snow. I checked the seals twice anyway. Habit. ⟨Character 4⟩ is asleep with his star maps on his chest, and Love is curled against his neck like she’s on watch. I’ll take the first system check in the morning. For once, it can wait.

⟨Character 2⟩: There’s one tomato left from the last tray, so I cut it into four pieces and put them in bowls. Tomorrow there’ll be new ones on the vine, and we’ll give those seeds to Amina and the kids in dome two. Something grows here, that’s all I know. Fingers crossed. My hands still smell like soil and mint. I set the alarm for half past five so no one else has to sweep all the corners of the house.

⟨Character 3⟩: I finished my comic tonight. The last frame shows Love wearing a tiny space helmet, riding a dust storm across the crater. In real life she hates storms. I drew the sand gold and easy. Tomorrow ⟨Character 4⟩ and I promised JP a look through at the sky and I’m going first to find the new kind of star we named after our street in ⟨birthplace⟩, block by block. This dome draws a circle around our home here and no one makes me take my eye away.

⟨Character 4⟩: JP wrote two days ago that he'll keep sending me dawn pictures, and I send him sunsets now, the low sun orange on the ridge. School says I'm the youngest star mapper and now Thiya wants to make a note of a pair we saw near the water dome. Three years of night messages is enough for a friendship to work anywhere.? Best work wasn't hard.

⟨Character 2⟩: Fine, dust everywhere.

⟨Character 3⟩: Nothing yet. Bring us some nectar from the upper hatch maybe has helped the airseed plot. Beans on Mars, kind of ugly, but tasty. Not enough of any three. Enough of the light on the cabin floor. Snores. Goodnight.

Their talks fall quiet, everyone slips to shut the world and look on, sky-bowl.