The light turned green and I stopped.
Red now, start again.
I abandoned her to her complacency. Thirteen months onward, four lifeless worlds apart, ninety-seven seconds and I'll be dead.
“It will be your undoing,” she'd told me at every opportunity, though it was never clear if she meant the mission or my leaving her.
At first the search was promising. No useful solutions, of course, but strong indications that we were close. Days became weeks and our progress slowed. Five months in we bottomed out. Nothing else to try, no Plan B, no more chances.
The light turned green and I shifted uncomfortably.
“I had a dream about it.” She was always doing this. “It worked, but you came back... wrong.” She sighed. I feigned concern.
No guilt then, not much now. It'd be nice to get this over with.
Red now, that's better.
My final breath.
And then the light turned blue.