'SEE YOU MORNING' 104 The Untouchable Distance

After half a year of low Mars orbit test flights, the equipment had been verified and the crew had been trained. During this period, large numbers of personnel had rotated aboard for service and evaluation. After all, the upcoming Saturn orbit voyage would involve long-duration deep space travel, imposing strict requirements on both professional competence and psychological resilience.

That morning, Lübeck came to the bridge to hear the briefing and personally reviewed the operational data for the mothership’s departure from low Mars orbit. Over the next few days, the San Jacinto would orbit Mars, gradually lowering its altitude, and finally land at the Hermes Base in Coprates Chasm, at the gate dock, awaiting final deployment.

Accordingly, in preparation for the upcoming high-precision docking, the ship was also detecting and calibrating sensors, verifying control systems, and as a final line of defense, collision damage control drills were underway at every station. Lübeck, as captain, not only observed the drills remotely but also personally watched the collision damage control exercises in the port hangar and the lower deck power compartment. Success or failure lay in the details. He needed to understand the team’s actual execution capability and the soldiers’ morale. But the most noticeable effect of the captain’s personal appearance was that the young men and women’s morale soared, and they took their duties even more seriously. Whether it was sealing pipelines or compartments, or resolving system faults according to procedure, their clear thinking and commands, swift repositioning and coordination—in the strength and perseverance of these young people, their duties and talents were on full display.

After lunch that day, Lübeck led Brittany to a corridor with portholes on the port side. He knew that at this time, from this position on the hull, they could see the Mars sunset. He said nothing, just quietly watched Brittany’s cheek as she stood before the window.

At this distance from Mars, the sun looked like a small bright spot—tiny and utterly without warmth, a faint pale white, illuminating the thin edge of Mars’s atmosphere, and also piercing through it to dimly light the plains and canyons of the surface, leaving long shadows behind.

The San Jacinto’s speed far exceeded Mars’s equatorial surface rotation speed. Before long, she had swung around to the tangent position of direct sunlight. The pale white sunlight penetrated the atmosphere, casting a low-saturation pale blue halo.

“Is this sunset now?” Brittany asked, watching.

“Yes.”

“It looks like the moon at night, just not bright enough.”

“Yeah, much smaller than the moon.”

Brittany turned to face Lübeck and said softly,

“The color of this sky reminds me of when I was little. Nights when I was a child. My parents always fought back then, so I’d hide from them and watch the moon alone in the yard.” She paused, looked down and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then raised her head and looked at Lübeck again.

“It would have been nice if you had been there back then.”

“You have me now.” Lübeck pulled her into his arms as he spoke.

Brittany rested her cheek against Lübeck’s shoulder, turned her head, and continued watching the Mars sunset. Soon that point of white fell into the gray-blue sky within Mars’s atmosphere, then gathered up the last trace of blue romance and vanished below the horizon.

Gazing at the pitch-black night outside the window, Brittany still didn’t want to look away. As if even the silent embrace of the dark night was better than the domestic space behind her, full of arguments and scolding. Let his belated embrace warm the small child she once was. Let the grown-up she had become hold on to this moment’s tenderness and give it to the helpless little girl she used to be.

Lübeck held Brittany in his arms without moving, without speaking. He didn’t know what she was thinking, didn’t know what she was feeling. Only her frozen gaze, her silent heart—he couldn’t bring himself to disturb it. He could only immerse himself in the atmosphere, feeling the companionship of each other’s warmth.

They parted reluctantly during their walk. Both had their own duties. Lübeck needed to maintain his feel for manual operation of the mothership, so even as captain, he still piloted the ship on a regular basis. And from that afternoon into the evening, it was his flight shift—gradually decelerating, lowering orbital altitude, and feeling the ship’s attitude feedback through manual control. After several consecutive hours of piloting on the bridge, he had already watched the Mars sunrise and sunset multiple times. Even dinner was a working meal completed at the flight console. From the plasma drive main engine thrust to attitude control, navigation data and trajectory verification, and the anti-gravity engine power output adjustment—he familiarized himself with or checked every link, and only when he felt there were no issues did he hand operations back to the bridge crew and return to rest.

Back in his room, Brittany was already asleep, but for some reason she had left the bedroom’s starlight ambient light on. Standing in the shower, Lübeck saw her roll over in bed. He wondered if he had made too much noise, so he angled the water flow to spray entirely on himself, no longer pattering and dripping onto the floor.

Lübeck lay on his back on the bed, relaxing the day’s fatigue. But tonight he hadn’t been able to say goodnight to Brittany, and it felt like something was missing. So he turned over and lay on his side beside her. In the faint light, her chest rose and fell gently with each breath. Lübeck slid his fingers lightly through her hair—he didn’t want to disturb her, yet he wanted to touch her. Although she was right there before him, the distance he felt from her seemed so vast. The cry of his heart was drowned by the barrier between them.

Then Brittany turned her head toward Lübeck and hummed softly. Lübeck thought he had woken her, but he hadn’t. Her breath was still deep in sleep.

“No, don’t,” a muffled, faint voice came from her throat.

“No.” She turned her head the other way, and her arm twitched.

Lübeck realized then that she was dreaming. He didn’t know what she had encountered in her dream.

After a brief moment of calm, her breathing turned rapid, and her lips began muttering again.

“No, don’t, don’t.”

Lübeck hurriedly sat up and gently shook her shoulders.

“Bri, wake up. Bri, wake up.” His force went from light to firm.

“Ah.” She opened her eyes and looked at Lübeck before her.

“Bad dream?”

“Mm.”

Lübeck touched her forehead. No fever, but she was sweating heavily—probably frightened in the dream. He felt her hands. Ice cold. He tested her feet with his own. Damp and ice cold.

So he pulled the blanket from the side and covered her, then held her hand with his own, pressed his foot against hers.

“Just a dream. It’s all over.” Lübeck warmed her as he comforted her.

“Mm. It’s all over.” Brittany repeated Lübeck’s words somewhat mechanically, perhaps still dazed from the dream. But after speaking, she turned her back to Lübeck and restored her calm alone.

Lübeck didn’t press her. He just gently held her hand from behind, his arm around her waist, keeping her company.

But when she had been silent for a long time, Lübeck leaned his head in front of her to see if she was all right.

“Eri, hold me tight.”

She finally spoke. Lübeck could finally set his mind at ease. From behind her, he reached one arm across her waist and the other around her chest.

In Lübeck’s embrace, Brittany rested her head against his cheek, gently turned back, and found his lips. In their kiss, Brittany gradually returned to calm breathing.

“Take me, will you? My man.”

Lübeck didn’t answer. This was a good way to promote her microcirculation.

Holding Brittany’s upper body tightly, Lübeck rubbed her ice-cold feet with his own as he sought her waiting, filling her emptiness. It seemed that just the kiss of lips was not enough to warm what she needed.

When Lübeck gently filled her, Brittany pulled his hands tight in front of her own body, lay flat on the bed, pressing his arms beneath her. She turned her head and pressed her cheek to the sheet, as if speaking to herself.

“Take me, Eri. Take me, Eri.”

She repeated it again and again, as if making a demand of Lübeck, yet also as if washing away her own memories, time after time.

“Take me. Please take me, Eri.”

“Take me, Eri.”

“Mm. Please take me.”

“Eri.”

In Brittany’s repeated soft calls, Lübeck gradually tightened his hold on her waist, filling the cries and longing in her heart, again and again.

In the dim night light beneath the bedroom’s starlit ceiling, Lübeck wrapped his body around Brittany’s easily startled soul, as if his body had become the dark sky of her childhood night, blocking all harm that struck at her.