“Not a mark on him, Sarge,” Victor noted.
“You sure he’s dead?”
Sergeant Lemov could imagine what was going on behind Victor’s impassive features. He was certain that, had the robot been programmed for facial expression, he’d now be displaying a sour look. The sergeant wished he had been, because then, he could do his own part and ignore it.
“Yeah, he’s dead. You can sometimes tell by the lack of breathing.”
Home is...south? Gotta be. Everything's south.
Which way is south? Can't smell it anymore. Damn compass froze, it's so cold.
Year 11, Day 3
Yoon Min-Jung braids her daughter’s hair while she doodles a picture of Earth. When she was younger, Min-Jung loved to draw with her colored pencils, the Faber-Castell ones her grandmother gave her for her tenth birthday. But there are no colored pencils on board the spaceship, so her daughter uses her finger on an old tablet app.
Bo-Young draws a slightly lopsided circle--still impressive for a six-year-old by Min-Jung’s standards--and colors the ocean blue and the land purple.