Lieutenant Commander Sarah Chen stared at the colony’s looming communications array through the transport’s viewport, mentally cataloging the work ahead. The massive structure stretched against the backdrop of HD 40307g’s blue-tinted atmosphere, a spindly finger pointing accusingly at the stars. Six weeks of travel for a complete array overhaul – the colony’s lower-bandwidth emergency systems could handle text and basic data, but the detailed scientific transmissions and personal video calls needed the main array working properly. The colony’s technical staff were occupied with the new atmospheric processors for the third expansion dome, and the specialized calibration equipment she’d brought couldn’t be fabricated with their current resources.

The vast emptiness between stars had lost its romance in the thirty-six years since humanity’s first extrasolar colony launch. Sarah had spent the last decade watching screens for any sign of intelligence among the cosmic silence, splitting her time between maintaining Earth’s outbound communications and tending to her increasingly complex hydroponics experiments. The military hadn’t originally wanted an anthropologist manning their comms stations, but after the Proxima Signal Incident, they’d changed their tune. The garbled transmissions that had seemed alien at first had turned out to be something far more unsettling – human language evolved beyond easy recognition. Sarah still reviewed the transcripts sometimes, wondering how much further the isolated colonies might drift.

She checked her tablet’s readout of the transport’s approach vector, more out of habit than necessity. The pilot had it well in hand, but Sarah had learned long ago that space offered no forgiveness for skipped protocols. Her graduate thesis on isolation protocols in Antarctic research stations seemed almost quaint now – humans had gotten so much better at being alone in the dark, and so much stranger for it.

The hydroponics kit in her quarters beeped softly, announcing another successful measurement of her latest batch of pepper crossbreeds. She’d started growing them after three months of bland station food had driven her nearly mad. Now her hybrid chilies and experimental herb strains were in high demand across every Earth orbital. Some colonists even traded their precious data bandwidth to transmit new growing techniques. In space, flavor wasn’t just a luxury – it was a reminder of home, a way to make recycled air and synthetic protein feel more like living and less like surviving. She’d insisted on bringing the setup, arguing that nearly three months away was too long to abandon her experiments. In truth, she needed the routine, the reminder of Earth’s rhythms out here in the endless black.

“Five minutes to dock,” the pilot announced over the transport’s comm. “Colony Control says your quarters are prepped, Commander. They’ve prioritized the array repairs in the maintenance schedule.”

Sarah gathered her tablets and tools, double-checking each item against her manifest. The specialized calibration equipment was packed carefully in its shock-resistant cases – irreplaceable out here, and the whole reason for her long journey. “Appreciated. Any update on the full timeline?”

“Colony Admin estimates two to three weeks for the complete overhaul, depending on what we find when we get into the deeper array systems. They’ve been making do with emergency channels since the degradation started.”

Sarah nodded, though the pilot couldn’t see her. Another reason she’d been sent: she could work alone. Years of studying how isolated communities operated had taught her more than just cultural adaptation patterns. She knew how to be self-sufficient, how to maintain boundaries while maintaining equipment. The military had liked that about her too.

The transport shuddered slightly as the docking clamps engaged. Sarah shouldered her bag, patted the hydroponics kit for luck, and headed for the airlock. Three weeks of repairs, then another three weeks back to her comfortable comms station orbit-side. The sooner she started, the sooner she’d finish.

She didn’t know it yet, but she wouldn’t finish so simply.