The handles are prettier than procedures. That is the trap.

You put a hand on the yellow because yellow looks like “caution,” and caution feels like wisdom. It is an equalize valve for a test volume Lina uses when the air is kind. The air is not kind this second. The collar sticker says ASK OUT LOUD.

A pressure light that should be sleepy wakes up. Somewhere a seal ticks, like a fingernail on a visor.

You can still let go. You can still be the person who called for help before Mars wrote the ending. Or you can keep going, because stopping feels like admitting you wanted a game.

The brown port does not move. That is not comfort. That is dust.

GROVE: “Uncommanded lock motion. Recommend stop.” GROVE does not raise its voice. It never does.

Your training badge pokes your collarbone. JUNIOR is not an insult. It is a reminder that vacuum-thin air has seniority.