The Dispatches of Dr. Clara Weber and Sgt. Andres Ramírez

by Yasmeen Fahmy

envoy1-dispatch0/arrival+1: We were correct that Soriat C contained two large continents. I could see the other coast on descent, and massive dust storms underway. It’s clear now that I’ve landed where I can survive more than a few days. I located potable water right away. Flora here is exquisitely colourful, breathtaking really. If you choose this planet, you’ll see for yourselves.

envoy2-dispatch0/arrival+3: Cold. So cold. Worse than those cryotherapy baths we used to do. But suit insulation is working well. I’m moving toward some geothermal activity the infrared sensor detected on descent. If I had to estimate, I’d say a couple hundred kilometers. Electromagnetic field is weaker than expected but the night sky has been clear with several bright stars to map. No signs of life yet, unsurprisingly. I’m getting used to talking to myself.

envoy1-dispatch1/arrival+7: Soil is rich. Testing shows comparable nutrient levels to productive soil on Earth. Many vibrant berries, but the ground mice seem most attracted to a gray cantaloupe with oblong seeds, so I tried one. It’s very bitter and has a nauseating smell, but so far no vomiting or diarrhea. At night I dream of eintopf.

envoy1-dispatch2/arrival+11: Schwein gehabt. The melons are safe and abundant, so I converted the pod nearby. Beginning to search for protein. Hope Andres is savoring the MREs.

envoy1-dispatch3/arrival+13: Many mammals analogous to ours—rats, squirrels. The rabbit is gamey but easy to trap. Also, I began noticing sporadic earthquakes. The seismometer in the pod had been registering them but I didn’t think to look at it. I'll search for the coast tomorrow.

envoy1-dispatch4/arrival+13: Someone else is here.

envoy2-dispatch1/arrival+14: Moving slower than I’d like, but the star map is developing steadily. Nice to have a sense of direction. Snowpack is crazy dry, reminds me of Japow. Suit insulation still good. Heat packs still stowed. MREs still taste like shit. Thanks for letting me have them though; don’t know what I would’ve eaten. I spotted a white, furry thing but it darted off quick. When it finally turned, my lens snapped it—four gold, blinking beads in that head. How long does it take to domesticate things again?

envoy2-dispatch2/arrival+22: If my math is right, I’m halfway to the hot springs. At least I’m telling myself it’s hot springs and not something that’ll kill me. Strong winds mean lots of stopping. There are so few distinct land features. I try not to turn. Just walk and walk and walk. Sleeping in the suit sucks, so does eating, peeing, trying not to hallucinate. I hope you’re getting these. Oh, gold-eyed fox came back, seems curious about me.

envoy1-dispatch5/arrival+28: Humans. No English or German.

envoy2-dispatch3/arrival+30: Blessed with clear nights, cursed with overcast days. Makes the world look like one big, white ball. And I’m floating in it. Every night I stop, crack a heat pack, check my work. Stars are good company. So is Hielo. Did I mention four-eyes is hanging around?

envoy2-dispatch4/arrival+34: Tonight, Hielo brought me something like a fish. Don’t know where the fuck he got it. When I wouldn’t eat, he started clawing the skin back. You know I ate some. Just imagined it was abuela’s ceviche. I’m burning through heat packs now because the suit’s not charging. Need daylight back. Internal temp set low. Don’t worry if I’m quiet a while.

envoy1-dispatch6/arrival+36: I can’t believe I’m writing this. The humans here arrived on a 2190 ship called Sham3a, “candle” in Arabic. My intermediary took me to see the hull. I recognized the hog nose design from the books Calvin kept. I can’t believe anyone survived traveling in them. Am I right that their ancestors were the last to leave the bunkers in Qatar? They must be descendants of the 22nd-century migrant worker crisis. Their language sounds like an Arabic-Tagalog creole. I’ve tried to convey our fleet size through drawing. I know it’s not up to me, but I hope you come. What they’ve built here is extraordinary.

envoy1-dispatch7/arrival+40: The earthquakes persist, but their adaptations are remarkable. Tall architecture, with carefully placed isolators and dampers. Made with bamboo-like material. The homes sway like deeply rooted trees. My intermediary has arranged a meeting with leadership. I’ll try to convey the urgency of our fleet’s situation.

envoy2-dispatch5/arrival+42: Alive. Cold. Moving. Hielo’s herding me, I think. Circling, nipping, barking. Or something like a bark. It’s got bits in there that make your bones shake. He’s always right. When the stars come out, the math tracks.

envoy1-dispatch8/arrival+43: I’m not sure why, but I was forced to stay in my quarters today. And I’ve been assigned a new intermediary. Something has changed. I’ll try to get answers.

envoy1-dispatch9/arrival+44: The new intermediary arrived in head-to-toe protection this morning. I must have made the last intermediary sick. With a two-week incubation, it’s almost certainly Ark fever. She signaled me to leave, run, but where to? Back to our dying fleet? I tried to tell her that we have run out of options. Her eyes scrunched behind the mask, they were so sympathetic that I held my breath a moment, but no other words came, just pity.

envoy1-dispatch10/arrival+45: Don’t come. No matter what. It must be Andres’ ice planet now. Es tut mir leid.

envoy2-dispatch6/arrival+55: Moving.

envoy2-dispatch7/arrival+66: Moving.

envoy2-dispatch8/arrival+72: Booming sound out east. Scared the shit out of Hielo. Not you guys, is it?

envoy2-dispatch9/arrival+82: M

envoy2-dispatch10/arrival+93: I know it’s too late, but I need to tell someone. Or feel like I’m telling someone. The hot springs are hot springs. My suit is so loose, practically fell off me. And my mustache is crazy. You’d all laugh. I want you to know I’ll be okay here. In case you’re still out there and worried. We knew this planet was a long shot. Thanks for taking a chance on me. Hielo likes it when I whistle. I’ve been whistling Dream a Little Dream a lot. You know, Ella Fitzgerald. Stars shining bright above. I love you guys.

Yasmeen Fahmy is an Egyptian American writer and mother based in New Jersey. Her speculative fiction has been published or is forthcoming in Inner Worlds, Night Shades, Saros Speculative Fiction, and If There's Anyone Left. You can find her on Bluesky @yasmeenfahmy and at yasmeenfahmy.com.