Now, only Anya, Masha, and LSM-43 remained.
The common room was a cathedral of silence and frost. The violet light from the LSM-43 cast long, skeletal shadows. Masha stood directly in front of the aperture, her small face bathed in that alien glow. Anya-10 Masha-8-Lsm-43
Most of the crew had called it the "Lament Configuration." It was a Geological and Atmospheric Sampler—a six-foot-tall pillar of brushed steel and weeping frost, buried in the center of the common room. It had no screen, no buttons, just a single iris-like aperture that opened once every hour to emit a low, resonant hum that vibrated in your teeth. Now, only Anya, Masha, and LSM-43 remained
She pulled the lever. The lights died. The hum stuttered into a final, mournful sigh. The violet glow vanished, leaving only the red emergency lamps and the sound of two girls breathing. Masha stood directly in front of the aperture,
Masha was eight, with a mop of strawberry-blonde hair that stuck to her forehead and a habit of talking to the creaking walls. She believed the groaning of the permafrost outside was a white bear trying to tell them stories. She was the "little one."