The vastness of space stretched out before the explorer, an endless sea of stars glittering against the velvety blackness. The ship, Lumen X, a marvel of human engineering, floated silently on the edge of known space, a solitary sentinel marking the boundary between the charted and the unknown. Onboard, the systems hummed with quiet efficiency, maintaining the delicate balance of life-support for the crew of one. It was a lonely existence, but one that had been chosen with full knowledge of the isolation it entailed.

Commander Alex Rey, an experienced astral explorer, had seen more of the universe than most could even imagine. The Lumen X was her home, her sanctuary in the vast void, a place where the only company was the data streams, the navigation logs, and the occasional transmission from mission control back on Earth—a planet that felt more like a distant memory than a home. The ship had been her companion for nearly a year now, as she charted the fringes of known space, pushing the boundaries of human exploration.

Today was supposed to be routine. A simple spacewalk to recalibrate the external sensors, nothing more. Alex had done it a hundred times before, her movements precise, practiced, almost second nature. The ship's AI, a cold, efficient presence named "Echo," had run through the checklists, ensured all systems were green, and prepped the necessary tools.

"You're clear to go, Commander Rey," Echo's voice had said, emotionless and steady. "All systems nominal."

Alex had suited up, the familiarity of the ritual bringing a sense of calm. She checked the seals on her helmet, tested the thrusters on her suit, and secured the tether to the ship's hull. The airlock hissed open, and she stepped into the void, the stars greeting her like old friends.

---

The task at hand was straightforward—recalibrate the long-range scanners that had been drifting out of sync over the past few weeks. The Lumen X was equipped with some of the most advanced technology humanity had ever developed, but even these systems required regular maintenance, especially out here, so far from any help.

As Alex moved along the exterior of the ship, the thrusters on her suit adjusting her position with gentle puffs of air, she marveled at the quiet beauty of space. There was something almost spiritual about it, the way the stars seemed to whisper secrets only the truly isolated could understand. Out here, she was alone, but it was a loneliness she had come to embrace.

She reached the scanner array, a cluster of instruments bristling from the ship's hull like the spines of some great metallic beast. Carefully, she began her work, adjusting the settings, realigning the sensors, and making sure the data stream was clear. It was delicate work, requiring patience and precision, but Alex was in her element.

---

It happened in an instant. One moment, Alex was tightening a bolt, and the next, she felt the tether snap loose. A rush of cold panic flooded her system as she looked down, seeing the cord that tethered her to the ship whipping away from her grasp. She reached for it instinctively, but it was already too far. Her heart pounded in her chest as the realization of what had just happened hit her like a physical blow.

She was untethered. Adrift.

The first few seconds were a blur of frantic motion. Alex fired her thrusters, trying to stabilize her position, to stop the slow, inexorable drift away from the ship. She reached out, her gloved hands grasping at nothing but the emptiness of space. The Lumen X remained in view, a hulking silhouette against the starry backdrop, but it was getting smaller, slowly but surely.

"Echo!" Alex's voice cracked as she shouted into the helmet's microphone. "Echo, come in! The tether's loose! I need assistance!"

There was a moment of silence, then the AI's calm voice responded. "Commander Rey, I am detecting a critical tether failure. Your suit's thrusters are insufficient to return you to the ship."

"I know that, dammit!" Alex snapped, her fear morphing into anger. "Is there anything you can do? Can you adjust the ship's position? Get me back?"

"The ship's thrusters are offline during maintenance mode, and reactivating them would take several minutes. By that time, your distance will have increased beyond retrieval range."

Alex's mind raced. "What about manual control? Can I—"

"Commander, you are currently drifting at a velocity that is increasing. Any further action might exacerbate the situation."

The words hit her with the finality of a death sentence. Alex's breathing quickened, her chest heaving as she tried to force herself to think, to come up with a solution. She knew the statistics, had memorized them during training—untethered astronauts had a minuscule chance of survival. In the vastness of space, even the smallest drift could mean death.

Her hands shook as she activated her suit's emergency thrusters, trying to counter the drift, to push herself back toward the ship. But the suit's propulsion was weak, designed for minute adjustments, not for closing the growing distance between her and the Lumen X. She fired them again, and again, each burst draining precious fuel, but it was like trying to swim against a current. The ship was still moving away, the gap widening with every passing second.

"Echo," Alex's voice was a whisper now, fear gnawing at the edges of her sanity. "Is there anything—anything—I can do?"

The AI's response was infuriatingly calm. "I recommend conserving oxygen, Commander. Your current trajectory will take you out of communication range within the next two minutes."

Out of communication range. The words echoed in her mind, a final, chilling reminder of her isolation. In two minutes, she would be completely alone—no contact, no help, just her, floating in the endless void.

The fear turned into a primal, overwhelming terror. Alex screamed into the emptiness, a wordless cry that echoed inside her helmet, bouncing back at her, amplifying her desperation. She thrashed in the suit, trying to will herself back to the ship, but it was useless. The tether was gone, and with it, any hope of survival.

She was going to die out here. Alone.