"Joe, can you hear me?"

"Yeah, Bud."

"Don't panic, okay? Try to relax."

"Easy for you to say." He chuckled. Not that the situation was exactly humorous, but hey, what was the point of getting all maudlin? It wouldn't change anything.

"Yeah, yes, I know. But your oxygen supply--"

"It's okay, Bud. I'm just yanking your chain. Just get back here as fast as you can, right?"

"Count on it. Sampson's working on it right now. What's your reading?"

"About two hours, give or take a few minutes."

"So the less we talk, probably the better. Use the least amount of energy you can too. When we move--"

"Buddy, we graduated the same NASA program, remember?"

"Yeah, sorry. I'm just trying to think of anything I can to help keep you focused."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere. Try to get through to Mission Control again. They should have some advice about how to fix the damn computer."

"Yes, sure. We've been trying. But don't worry. We'll see you before you run out of oxygen, my friend."

He was a good guy. It was going to be pretty awful for them, too, if that shit-hole computer didn't start operating to design. It had malfunctioned and gone off-line almost the same time the panel blew. Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong will. And then communications failed. Lucky thing it was the PLSS responsible for communications between him and Discovery.

Talk about a FUBAR situation. And him stuck on the planet’s surface, unable to do a thing to try to help get it under control. "Alright, signing off for now. See you when I see you."

"Soon, Joe, soon. Hang in there. Over and out."

<><><>

She was so beautiful, the way the sunlight danced in her hair, lighting it up like she was an angel who'd fallen from heaven. Her filmy cotton dress blowing in the warm meadow breeze, lifting just enough to give him a glance at those long legs, those creamy thighs--it was enough to stir his loins until he thought he'd burst with desire. The heat made him groan. The heat was spreading, up from his crotch to his face, it was so uncomfortable, so--

God. He'd drifted off to sleep. Gotta check my oxygen supply!

It was warm inside his suit, but it was the dangerous level he saw reflected on his PLSS gauge that caused his heart to pound.

Breathe! Relax. Calm down. Panic would only hasten his demise. But he'd drifted into slumber as his oxygen supply dwindled, and it was now at a dangerous level. He hadn't actually been sleeping; he'd been suffering from a condition he recognized from his NASA training, a condition that would eventually kill him. His space suit was designed to provide air pressure to keep his body fluids liquid. He would begin to become dehydrated as the oxygen ran out and eventually lose consciousness and die. The PLSS was responsible for providing breathable oxygen, in addition to regulating pressure inside the suit. It removed carbon dioxide and other contaminants in a closed loop, not unlike a re-breather a scuba diver might wear.

That he was becoming so uncomfortably warm and thirsty was an indication that time was almost up, even without the gauge telling him so.  But without a working computer, Bud couldn’t land Discovery.

"Bud? Are you there?"

"Yeah, Joe. We're here, man. How're you doing?"

"Not so good, I'm afraid. I'm going to reserve." He fumbled for the valve.

"Joe, are you sure?"

"'Fraid so. How's the panel? Any word from Mission Control?"

"Joe, that reserve oxygen is only good for thirty minutes. Are you sure you can't last with what you've got a little longer?"

"Buddy, Jesus! You're not answering my question. HOW ABOUT MISSION CONTROL?"

"Easy, pal, easy. Joe, listen, I'm sorry. I don't have good news."

Fuck! These suits should come with cyanide capsules! He inhaled deeply. What the hell difference did it make?

"Okay, okay--sorry. I know you're trying." He felt tears wetting his cheeks inside his EMU's helmet. Shit. I'm screwed.

"Joe, don't give up, okay? There's still a chance."

Yeah, right, and my sister is going to marry a rich sheik and we're all going to live happily ever after--"Yes, Buddy. I know. It's okay. I'm going to sign off again. Save the oxygen, right?"

"Right, yeah, okay, Joe. Okay. We're praying, pal. For all of us."

"Yeah. Me too. Over and out."

<><><>

"Mission Control, this is Discovery, do you copy?"

Static.

"Mission Control, come in. This is Discovery. We're stranded off Mercury and Commander Fraser is still on the surface."

Static.

"Nothing, Buddy?"

"Nothing. I'm afraid we're all royally fucked, Sampson."

<><><>

She was holding Jonas, cradling him like he was made of glass. She lifted her chin and looked into his eyes. The joy and love he saw in that blue-eyed gaze made his heart swell with pride. She was the reason he breathed, and now there were two of them, two to protect and provide with everything he could, forever, as long as he lived.

He would die for them.

"Do you want to hold him, Joe?"

His son. His legacy. "Yes, please."  He stretched out trembling hands for the precious bundle...

<><><>The End<><><>