“Commander, are you alright?” the lilting voice came over the intercom, the now familiar Welsh accent adding that extra measure of concern.

Miranda stretched her neck as much as she could to each side within the suit, an outward attempt to right the brain inside, “I’m fine. Just admiring the view.”

“Yes, ma’am. Don’t forget that the seismic sensors need to be…” The voice trailed away from attention as the lone woman on the face of Mars scanned the horizon. She’d spent the first third of the voyage pulling herself through the conduits and corridors the ship. She’d say exploring, familiarizing, or exercising.

She’d been looking for that damn dog.

“Ma’am,” the voice came again, “Mirander, are you alright?” She had to smile at how the British lieutenant always slurred her name.

Somewhere a dog barked, and wiped that smile right off her face.

Miranda erupted into her mic, “Son of a…” Eyes shut tight and lips now pursed, she stood still and quiet. She silenced the coms and waited.