The oxygen harvesters lined the sulfur plains, their spindly arms siphoning what little breathable air remained on Ardek-9. Juno, an ex-cybernetic surgeon, moved between them, scanning for leaks. The settlement depended on these machines, but something had changed—air had started vanishing faster than expected.
Her scanner pulsed red. A harvester had been hacked, diverting oxygen to an unauthorized storage. Juno followed the modified duct lines underground, where she found a hidden chamber. A lone figure, skeletal and gasping, clutched a crude respirator.
“Why?” Juno demanded.
The man’s glassy eyes met hers. “I was forgotten. The settlement cut me off, said I was useless.”
Juno hesitated. She had reassembled bodies, rebuilt lives—but here, in this poisoned world, survival was rationed.
She knelt, adjusting the conduit, redirecting just enough oxygen for him to live. “Not anymore,” she whispered.
Above, the harvesters continued their work, their arms never pausing.
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