Our team has completed a full orbital survey of Gora’s satellite network and the debris cloud. Wreckage drones have been dispatched, and are hard at work removing the debris as quickly as possible.

Due to the unprecedented nature of this situation, debris clean-up sufficient enough to resume normal ground-to-orbit traffic will take longer than originally estimated. Based on current data, we hope to restore safe spaceflight conditions within approximately two GC standard days. These estimates are based on the most recent survey data. Given the evolving nature of this situation, the actual time of resolution is subject to change.

We understand and sympathise with the impact these delays are having on both business and personal affairs. We appreciate your continued understanding as we work to resolve this situation as quickly as safety parameters allow.

We are aware of isolated attempts to launch spacecraft despite the current traffic shutdown. Do not attempt launch of any vessel, crewed or uncrewed, at this time. The current risk to both sapient life and ship integrity is extreme. Though we share your frustration at the situation, please follow the current traffic regulations for your own safety and the safety of those travelling with you.

The GCTA and the Goran Orbital Cooperative are working together to bring Gora’s solar power network back online. The Goran Orbital Cooperative will compensate you for all fuel resources used for back-up power supplies until the solar network is restored.

We understand that some debris from the collision has deorbited and landed planetside. We plan to work directly with affected individuals to assess the damage and necessary repairs once comms channels are restored.

The safest place to be during this situation is within your ship or your habitat dome. Do not attempt exosuit walks in unshielded environments until the all-clear is given.

Any satellite debris that has landed on Gora’s surface remains the property of the GC Transit Authority or the Goran Orbital Cooperative. GC salvage rights do not apply in this scenario.

We are working to restore ground-to-orbit comms as soon as possible. We do not have an estimate for this repair work yet.

Thank you for your patience. We are all in this together.

SPEAKER

Speaker focused on the horizon, and tried to keep her breathing slow.

She wanted to pace. She wanted to break something. She wanted to say fuck it and hit the launch sequence and navigate the debris herself. But the first option hadn’t helped, the second was wasteful, and the third was the sort of thinking that got people killed. So she sat, she breathed, and she tried to calm down.

Out the shuttle window, there was nothing but desert. Not the good kind of desert, like she’d seen on supply stops at Hashkath, full of wildflowers and the strange scurrying lives of animals in their natural niche. This was pure emptiness, a lifeless monument to all the different configurations rock could assume. The sheer amount of nothing frightened her. Gora was as undeveloped a place as she’d ever seen, and the bulkhead between her and the outdoors did less to reassure her than usual. The sight of other habitat domes out there – their signs illegible thanks to distance – was a comfort, of sorts. But the domes were so far apart from one another that it did not take much imagining to picture Gora without any sort of buildings at all.

The thought of an untouched planet unnerved her, and the fact that it did made her angry.

She looked down to the hammock beneath her. She wasn’t sure when she’d dug her fingers into the edge of the fabric, but it took conscious effort to make herself let go. As she glanced back up, she noticed motion outside.

Roveg’s shuttle was parked beside hers, and she could see him in his own control room, looking … well, she wasn’t quite sure how he looked, beyond looking like himself. Quelin were such a conundrum. How were you supposed to understand a face that never changed? She continued to watch him, intrusive though she knew this to be. Roveg gestured at panels, spoke words unheard. The longer she watched, the more it became clear that something wasn’t right. An individual in distress was an easy thing to identify, movable face or no. Speaker ran her fingertips over the dents they’d created in the hammock fabric. She thought for a moment, then got out of her seat and climbed into the bubbled window.

‘Hey!’ she yelled. She doubted he could hear her, given they were each behind a pane designed to keep the vacuum of space away. But it felt odd to wave her arms without yelling something, so yell she did. ‘Roveg! Hey!’

She waved furiously, feeling awkward, but at last, Roveg noticed her. Everything about his body language noted surprise – the shift of light in his glossy eyes, the way his antennae and frills perked up. He scuttled over on his dozens of legs to face her. She could see his mouth moving, but the words were lost.

‘I can’t—’ I can’t hear you, she started to say, before realising that phrase was particularly pointless when it held true for the listener as well. If she knew his ship’s comms path, she could’ve called him, but she’d neglected to ask for that when she’d checked in on everyone the day before. What a stupid, basic thing to forget. She raised a hand with deliberateness and pointed in the direction of the airlock. He mirrored the gesture with the legs attached to his thorax. Understanding was reached. She saw him exit his control room as she did the same.

Speaker clambered into her suit, let the cockpit hiss shut, and stepped out of the back hatch of her ship and into the airlock. The hatch clanked closed behind her, and there was another hiss as unseen machinery pumped out the filtered air that had drifted in from Speaker’s ship and replaced it with the differently filtered air Ouloo provided for her habitat dome. This was a normal procedure, for Speaker – seals within seals within seals. A constant reminder of the danger posed by an environment without barriers.