Mira's Titan (12 of 12)

A groan from the cot pulls my attention back inside. Jack is stirring. I rush to his side. His eyes open, and this time they focus on me.

“Mira…” he croaks, voice weak.

I grin, tears of relief threatening once more. “Jack! Hey… I’m here. We’re okay. How do you feel?” I gently lift his head to give him a sip of water from a pouch.

He swallows and manages a faint smile. “Like I got hit by a truck… Did we fix the leak? I remember… an explosion…” His hand moves as if to touch his leg and he winces.

“Shh, don’t move too much,” I say, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Yes, we stopped the leak. Habitat Three is sealed off. There was a flash fire, and you got hurt pretty bad. But you’re stable now. I had to drag you out,” I add with a shaky laugh, trying to keep it light, “You owe me one.” Then I think of Valentina. 

Jack sees my face change. “Mira? What is it?”

I try to speak and can’t. I swallow hard, forcing the words past the ache. “Jack… they’re gone.” My voice breaks on the last word. “Aegis can’t find any signs of them. They were still in Hab Three when the fire hit. I… I didn’t know. I didn’t realize.”

His face goes slack with shock. I reach for his hand and grip it tightly, grounding myself. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve— I just… we were losing power, the fire was spreading, and you were hurt and—” I stop, choking on the guilt that wells up.

“God no. No.” Jack looks away. I see the pain in his eyes—it’s not just physical. It’s grief. But there’s no blame there. Just the weight we now share.

“They were our crew,” I whisper. “Our friends. And we lost them.” The tears come freely now, but I don’t look away. “We’re all that’s left.”

I lay my head on Jack’s chest and the grief rolls through us like waves on the shore. After what seems like an eternity we raise our eyes to look at each other. Then his brow furrows as he becomes more aware. “Power’s back? I hear the fans… And Aegis?”

Aegis answers herself, chiming in gently over the speakers near Jack. “I’m here, Jack. Good to have you back with us. Please don’t attempt to stand; your leg is in a splint.”

He blinks, clearly processing that the AI is up and running. “So the reactor… Mira, you did all that?” His eyes shine with gratitude and disbelief.

“She sure did,” Aegis affirms before I can respond. “She restarted the reactor, saved your life, and even recorded a lovely message for Earth.” There’s a playful note in her voice now. If Aegis had a physical form, I imagine her smirking knowingly.

My cheeks warm—Aegis is being awfully chatty about things. Jack raises an eyebrow. “A message for Earth, huh? What’d I miss?”

I brush a lock of hair from my face and sigh. “Well… our comm array is shot and the return vehicle is gone. We’re… stuck here for now. Maybe a long while.” I try to say it matter-of-factly, but Jack’s face falls. I quickly continue with the more hopeful parts, “But we’ve got life support stable, enough supplies to last quite a while if we’re careful. And the habitat’s mostly okay, minus the one section. We’ll manage.”

Jack absorbs that, closing his eyes for a moment. I see the flash of emotions on his face: despair, acceptance, determination. Ever resilient, he opens his eyes and nods slowly. “Okay. We’ll manage. At least… at least we’re alive.” He reaches out and I take his hand. We hold that connection, both of us taking comfort in it.

For a long moment, neither of us speaks. The only sounds are the faint hum of machines and the distant rumble of the storm outside. I squeeze his hand. “Jack… there’s something you should see. It’s keeping me optimistic.” I gently let go and turn the nearest monitor toward him. It still shows the creatures at the airlock.

Jack squints at the image. “What is that… luminescence? Are those—?”

“Life. From Kraken Mare,” I confirm, excitement creeping back into my voice. “They’ve come to us, Jack. Right up to the airlock door.”

His mouth parts in amazement. “They… came here? On their own?”

“I think so. Maybe drawn by our heat or chemical traces. Or maybe… who knows? Maybe they’re curious.”

Jack lets out a soft chuckle, wincing slightly at the pain it causes. “We go looking for aliens, and they end up knocking on our front door.”

I laugh too—a genuine laugh that feels foreign after all the fear. It feels good. I carefully sit on the edge of the cot next to Jack, mindful of his leg. “It’s almost like they’re checking on us,” I muse. “Maybe they saw the lights or felt the vibrations from the explosion. Or sensed the methane leak—it might’ve been like blood in the water for a shark, except they found our hab.”

Jack squeezes my hand again. “However it happened… it means we still have so much to learn here.” His eyes meet mine, and there’s that spark of adventurous spirit that drew me to him in the first place. Even injured, he’s already thinking scientifically, optimistically.

Aegis’s voice comes softly. “Mira, Jack, I should inform you: the external radiation and electromagnetic interference from the storm is decreasing. The worst of the storm seems to be passing.”

I look up at a status display. Sure enough, pressure readings outside are stabilizing, and wind speed is trending down from the extreme highs. It might soon be safe to go out, at least in a suit, to assess damage—or even… to greet our glowing visitors? The thought is tantalizing.

Jack follows my gaze. “We might be able to step outside soon?”

“If the weather calms a bit more, yes,” I say. “We’ll have to anyway, to try and fix the comm antenna or jury-rig something. And to possibly fish out supplies from the wreck of Hab Three if any are salvageable through an external hatch.”

Jack nods, then smirks. “I doubt I’ll be doing any EVA with this leg anytime soon, though.” He looks frustrated by that, but I pat his arm.

“You’ll supervise from in here and keep Aegis company,” I tease gently. “I’ll do the heavy lifting out there. Maybe I can even collect a new sample of our glowing friends.”

Jack’s face softens into a grateful smile. “Our own real-life superhero, Commander Mira.”

I roll my eyes, but I smile. “Hardly. I’m running on fumes, Jack. Once I know we’re fully secure, I might sleep for a week.”

“Both of you should rest soon,” Aegis interjects in a nurturing tone. “I can maintain monitoring. And I will continue attempts to contact Earth on backup systems.” She pauses, then adds, “You’ve both been through a lot. It’s okay to take a moment.”

I realize Aegis is right. The crisis frenzy is over. We’ve survived. And now we face a new challenge: living. Truly living here—not just waiting for rescue.

I look at Jack, and he looks at me. His eyes, even clouded with pain, hold mine steadily.

“Mira… thank you,” he says softly.

There’s more in those two words than just gratitude for medical aid. It’s thank you for not giving up. Not on the mission. Not on him.

I feel a warmth in my chest that defies Titan’s cold.

“We’re in this together,” I say. “Always.”

I kiss him, no hesitation this time, and he holds my face in his hands like he’s anchoring himself to the moment. It’s the first time we’ve acknowledged what’s always been there—not just crewmates, not just survivors, but something deeper forged in fire and ice.

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