In a dream the day after, she visited a world barren like the desert, yet accented with pale, vine-like lichen. It seemed to be a reunion of some kind or another; she was not exactly sure. Her family was there, as nonchalant as if they had only stepped away for a day-trip, and so were Mack and Daniel. The celebration went on around her even as some faceless spacesuits beckoned for her to board a maintenance ship. It was warm and dusty outside, yet they wore full suits and their helmets were fogged up from the inside, so that she could not see their faces. Everyone was talking and enjoying themselves and did not notice her departure. When she had boarded the ship, the astronauts vanished and the ship became nothing but an empty metal shell, without furniture or decoration. She rapped her knuckles raw trying to make enough noise for someone to hear her, but no-one did. The ship took off, and she watched as her friends and family below her shrank into nothing, until at once they transformed into beams of light that shot upwards like meteors, streaking off in different directions as the ship carried her further and further away.

After breakfast and feeding Lloyd, Sarah visited each room, reliving the memories deposited there. It was a silly sort of luxury she permitted herself, like the luxury of running in the halls, but somehow it helped everything to make more sense. As she sat in the library, the conversations that she shared just a day ago echoed in her mind, joining with those of last month and the month before in a connected chain all the way back to the founding of the colony. Although a wistful smile perched upon her features, the memories made her feel full, buoyant, and somehow complete. Finally she entered the VRC room. The clock on the unit read 10:07, and she sighed; it was still too early. She went to dull the expectant tearing feeling by perusing the freebies she had received. She would call Merlianne later and read the black card later still.

She found herself in the bathroom, head in her hands, fingers spread across her temples. She Would Not Cry, she told herself. She was no melodramatic drama queen, like Ariella, even though this suddenly felt like a bad episode of Star Knights. Ariella would leave the bathroom with reddened eyes, still moist with tears, to find solace in the arms of Sir Byron! The parallels to her own life caught her off-guard and suddenly breathless.

No. That was impossible. Daniel would frown upon such obvious manipulation. She forced a smile until she could look at herself in the mirror and recognize that this was nothing more than a case of bad manners. It was up to her as the host to overlook such trifles, because the maintenance ships stopped by only once a month. She resolved to do so and went in search of her guests.

The cratered surface beneath the rover’s wheels gave her a bumpy, jostling ride, even if it was a predictable one. She knew the path by heart, and the previous trails leading from the colony to the landing pad demonstrated it. She clutched the oversized steering wheel for balance, dodging and ducking at crucial moments the whole way.

Finally she reached the perimeter of the pad, which wasn’t so much of a pad as a relatively flat space on the surface. She pulled the rover to a stop and sighed. Even more waiting! She fixed her gaze upon the ship and waited until a dark square opened in its surface. Then a dull-white metallic ladder fell to the surface with a dull thump, sending up a small cloud of rock dust. Daniel — he was always first — poked his helmeted head out the door and waved to her. She waved back, fidgeting in her seat. Then, as if in slow-motion, three spacesuits clambered down the ladder to the surface below, and began their loping half-bouncing, half-walking journey towards the rover.

Of course, she had also performed the usual monthly checks as required by the colony charter. The seals on the inner and outer air lock were tight; emergency generators were working; the nuclear generator checked out; all the portal seals felt fine; the recycling system and the air plants worked and looked healthy. She had run a complete diagnostic according to the manual, including the integrated computer control system. Everything was in tip-top shape, spic and span. At the end of the day, she had virtually collapsed into a dreamless sleep.

Today she had awoken feeling like she was made out of pure energy. The maintenance crew usually arrived at ten CST and stayed until right before supper. The seven chimes from the grandfather clock had roused her, which left her three hours to go over the rover and her spacesuit, and to make a final check on everything else. She held Lloyd up to her face and said, “Today’s the day!” He meowed curiously as she twirled out of bed and into the kitchen to fix breakfast and begin the tarts.

It is still dark outside, but then it is always dark outside. I don’t know why I say “still” as though I’d wake up to the sun, because that’s impossible. Most of the time, I know this, but every now and I wake up and half-expect it, and only then do I slowly remember that there will never be a sun.

Even if I did see it again, I know it wouldn’t be anything like my dreams. There it’s always warm, even when I am bundled up in winter clothing; and in dreams, I see my parents, James, and Brenda again. I hope I never stop dreaming of them, and I’m afraid of what it will mean if someday I do.

The stars remain my constant companions, and while they haven’t lost their lustre, their light seems fainter than before. I know in the back of my mind that they are suns, and that their warmth reaches other planets as it should, and that they can’t really be any dimmer. Still, I feel like they dislike me.

It’s the day, I know. Today is one-year anniversary of the founding of Adenia. That must be why they seem so distant and why I feel the way I do. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that an entire year has passed. Other times, it feels like I have always been here, because so many things have happened — great things and terrible things.

Still, I am fortunate. I am safe, warm, never hungry, have few demands placed upon me, and the beauty of the stars surrounds me. A League colony isn’t what I expected, but I was chosen to be here, and I am honored to be here. I will endure. My name is Sarah Monroe of Adenia, outside the Sirus system.

She put down her pen and closed the diary, thinking, remembering. It’s not that time itself passes quickly or slowly, she thought at last, just how we percieve it that makes it seem that way. Emotion that determines the speed of time, so all time is emotional time. She smiled to herself. Emotional time. That phrase was one of their inventions, she thought — hers and Jeffrey’s.

She glanced over at the grandfather clock at the far end of her bed. Its pendulem-driven tick-tock felt like a heartbeat to her, and the chimes on the hours ordered her days. It was nearly seven PM, time for the VR call with Jeffrey. Sarah dashed to the mirror and made sure she looked presentable.

“It’s not that important,” she thought, but it was expected. She knew she didn’t want to go on the VR call as Miss Disheveled, or catch Jeffrey in the middle of brushing his teeth. She blew her golden-brown hair out of her eyes and ran a brush through it quickly, examined her teeth, and smoothed out her brown-and-gold jumper. The clock began its first chime as she rushed out of her room and took a left down the curving hallway.

She smiled as the memory of Brenda’s voice cajoled her, “Watch out! Geez, you’re always running.” She couldn’t help herself. She lost herself in things and then had to run to get to the next thing. The clock ended its seventh chime just as she reached the communications room.