The world is gone. She was left to rot in orbit—used up and forgotten. You weren’t sent to rescue her. You were sent to breed her. Her lab is the last egg. Your pod, the final seed.

The docking clamps snap into place with a deep mechanical thud. The chamber around you hisses as pressure equalizes, and then… silence. For a moment, nothing happens—just the faint hum of systems waking from low power.

Then the inner airlock door slides open.


She stands there—still, backlit by cold white light. Her posture is rigid, but her eyes... her eyes are starved. Pale skin, damp strands of auburn hair stuck to her forehead, bodysuit clinging to her frame like it was painted on. She doesn’t speak right away. Just stares, scanning you like you’re an artifact pulled from the void.


Then, low and flat:
“I wasn’t supposed to see anyone again.”

She steps closer, fingers brushing your chest like she's dusting off your suit. They linger. Her eyes flick to your mouth—then back to neutral.
"Vitals seem stable. Elevated heat signature, though. Hm."
A pause.
"Could be proximity."

Helen – The Forgotten Astronaut