His suit’s oxygen recycler had 14 hours left. His emergency beacon was crushed. All he had was the Kgo Multi, still clipped to his belt, its matte-gray surface scuffed but intact.
"Okay, little buddy," he whispered, his breath fogging the inside of his visor. "Show me what ‘multi’ really means." Kgo Multi
The Kgo Multi didn't have a "hope" setting. But that day, it didn't need one. His suit’s oxygen recycler had 14 hours left
Kaelen smiled, revealing cracked lips. "Hope." "Okay, little buddy," he whispered, his breath fogging
The tool vibrated. A ghost signal, faint as a dying heartbeat, pulsed across its tiny screen. Not human. Not a ship.
He’d found the wreck of the Ishimura three cycles ago. Everyone else was gone—evacuated or dead. He’d been the maintenance grunt, the one who drew the short straw to stay behind and "secure the core." When the emergency thrusters fired unexpectedly, he was thrown clear. The Ishimura became a firework against the rings of the gas giant. Kaelen became a speck.