Pluto and Charon. The chilling underworld and its ice-covered companion shimmered in haunting refraction of a distant star. The likeness of a man, old and grey looked back as Dale peered through the glass of his port-hole window. The past twenty-five years had taken its toll, there was little left to give. Dale sighed and leaving his wrinkled reflection behind him, he focused on the task at hand – launching the payload.

A plastic-coated, spiral-bound notebook sat unopened on the desk; its title: Mission End. A long string of release codes and firing trajectories filled the top part of the first page; Dale’s scribbled calculations overflowed at the bottom. With a deep breath, Dale readied for the last walk to the cargo hold and opened his cabin door.

Carl sat stoically, feeling like he belonged in and among the assortment of tangled conduit and flashing red and amber lights. His twitching fingers twisted the last two worn-out wires of the faulty, short-range receiver.

“Pluto-1. Can you read me? Pluto-1?”