[WP] An astronaut sits alone on a distant planet as a crack creeps across his helmet. He speaks into his radio, "I wish you could see what I see."

Something popped in the lander as soon as we entered the atmosphere. One second it was smooth sailing, and then the next we were being tossed around the cabin like kids on a carnival ride. Alarms were blaring and lights were flashing as fires broke out in the left wing. There was nothing we could do but brace for impact.

Novikov and Chambers died immediately, so far as I could tell. I didn't have much time to examine their bodies on the way out of the wreckage, but a part of the lander windshield was sticking out of Novikov's chest, so that one wasn't much of a mystery. Chambers may have survived the impact, but her suit faceplate was shattered, so she hadn't lasted long in this atmosphere. I could already see the oxygen levels dropping on my own monitors. Should have known that my suit wouldn't make it through unscathed.

"Valerie, I'm sorry," I spoke into the microphone. The lander was supposed to be able to relay back to Earth, but something told me that the twisted, burning pile of metal wouldn't be able to handle the job anymore. So it just went to a recording. "As always, you were right, honey." She hadn't wanted me to go. She'd never worried about any of my other missions, but this one had caused a pretty big fight between us. Superstitious as always, she just had a 'bad feeling' about this one in the pit of her stomach.

I gazed out across the unfamiliar landscape. The system's sun, roughly twice the size of our own, was just starting to rise on the horizon. I tried to pick out Sol from the blanket of stars above, but there were too many. I'd seen the star map from our proposed landing site, but we hadn't gotten that far. Shame; I would have liked to have one last glimpse of home. But this desolate world was beautiful in its own way

I sighed and took a seat on a nearby rock and gazed out over the plains. So much for my "Neil Armstrong" moment. Instead of triumphantly stepping out the door and planting the N.A.U. flag, I was just choosing the spot where I wanted to die. "I hope that someday you'll get this message." That wasn't a sure bet: a recovery mission could take forever, and she might die of old age before anyone could get it back to her. By the time this message made it back to Earth, she would have moved on already. Probably with a new husband, and bunch of kids. "Just know how much I love you, and miss you." Images of her flooded back into my mind: trading shy glances at the university library; the happy tears in her eyes during our first dance; having a food fight at the ripe old age of 31. I wanted to remind her of all of those times, but the oxygen alarm was quickly inching toward critical. I could even feel the cold beginning to seep through the holes in the suit. "I just hope you know how much our time together meant to me."

A crack spread across the vizor like a drip of water running down a pane of glass. Smaller and smaller cracks radiated outward until the whole thing was covered in a spiderweb of lines. Red lights were flashing, and a distant voice was warning me that internal atmosphere had reached critical levels. I thought of Val kissing me goodbye on the capsule's threshold the day I'd departed. The thought of her warm touch (and, stubborn determination) made me smile, and I closed my eyes. She'd embraced me and didn't let go, as though she might hug me so long that I'd miss the departure window. I could picture every single freckle on her beautiful face. "I wish you could see what I see," I gasped into the recorder.