Oct 26th, 2344
Mushkin informed them that the habitat was comfortably livable. They had grown accustomed to the suits and had largely forgotten about them as they traveled willy-nilly. But receiving the message might as well have been a starter's pistol. They each madly followed one another's beacons, met in a large room with irregular walls on all sides, and, forgetting all thoughts of the ceremonies they had planned, they ripped off their clothes and rutted like animals, using their lifters to float above the hard, craggy surfaces.
In the newfound comfort of the habitable space, Richard and Brenda found themselves entangled, the coolness of their bare skin contrasting with the warmth they provided to each other. A dim glow from Yoon's bioluminescent fungi, which was slowly growing everywhere on the cavernous ceilings, bathed them in a soft light as they lay floating, while the almost subliminal hum of the subatomic terraforming machinery provided a rhythmic lull in the background.
Spent, he lazily ran his fingernails down her side, eliciting a shiver that wasn't entirely from the creeping chill of their exotic surroundings. Brenda responded in kind, her tongue tracing a path along his neck to savor the salt from the sweat of their exertions.
"Five weeks," Richard sighed. His voice held a mixture of wonder and pensiveness as he gently smoothed the chestnut strands away from Brenda's face, anchoring her gaze to his. "I didn't realize how much I could miss the simple touch of another person."
The rawness in his admission captured the moment well—an acknowledgment of the stark deprivation they had endured, not just of atmosphere and warmth, but of human connection. Brenda's eyes softened in response, the shared sentiment resonating between them in the stillness of their sanctuary.
Brenda sighed, nuzzling closer. "I didn't either. The suits—they were like a second skin, but this... this is human."
Their gazes locked, a silent understanding passing between them. Richard's hand found Brenda's, their fingers interlocking with an ease that spoke of their shared ordeal and triumph.
"You know, we did it," she whispered, her breath a warm puff in the cool atmosphere. "Built our own livable research colony."
Richard chuckled softly. "Yeah, and we inaugurated it remarkably well, I'd say."
renda, more reserved than Richard, chose not to engage with his more direct commentary. Instead, she found her attention captured by the subtle fragrance that now permeated their living space—an intended byproduct of the terraforming process, a delicate rose scent designed to mask the natural metallic odors that came with the machinery's operation. She inhaled deeply, the floral note mingling with the lingering earthiness of their sweat — a scent that whisked her back to the transformation of Vesta and all the possibilities of the nascent colonies.
They lay there for a moment, the sense of accomplishment mingling with the novelty of their surroundings. The rough, irregular walls of the room stood as a testament to the alien craftsmanship, and they, two explorers looking for freedom from the overregulated home they left behind and almost three and a half centuries old, desperate for new challenges and experiences, were the first to make it their home.
"It's strange," Brenda continued, "how the absence of something as simple as touch can feel so significant. I'm glad we have this moment."
"As am I," Richard agreed, feeling the weight of their isolation lift slightly at the contact. "We've been through too much to stand on ceremony. Here, it's just about being human, being alive."
The silence enveloped them again, but it was a comfort filled with the harmony of shared experience. The alien world outside their soft cocoon seemed less daunting, and the mysteries less inscrutable in the afterglow of their connection. As they cuddled, the artifact around them seemed less like an anomaly to be studied and more like a home to be cherished.
"It feels too cool in here," Richard complained as his sweat dried, chilling him.
"We were told it's livable, but the terraforming isn't done. It's currently 19 degrees—terraforming will cap it out at 22. The oxygen is still a bit thin, too," Brenda replied.
"Mushkin, could you make us a blanket?" Richard requested. At his command, an ultra-thin but very warm foil formed in the air and gently wrapped around them.
Richard said to the air, "Mushkin, play Kürtzkov's 'Light Tribute for Serenity,' low volume."
"Nice choice," murmured Brenda, snuggling closer and closing her eyes. The delicate strings of Kürtzkov's piece filtered through the space, intertwining with their tranquil breaths. In this serene tableau, amidst the expanse of the unknown, they huddled together—not just for warmth but for that irreplaceable human connection. The complexity of their journey and the vastness of space outside their safe haven paled in comparison to the simple act of sharing warmth and presence. They were two souls, alone together near the edge of the solar system, finding solace in the music and in each other, effortlessly floating in the cradle of their mystery.