She's still alive. Her comms switch was set on 'open' when she fainted and I can hear her breathing into the helmet mic.
Four hours of air in a single charge, two tanks, she's been out here for six hours already. The rollabout manages about twenty kilometers an hour on flat, even ground, of which there is precious little on the moon. I'm zig-zagging back and forth, driving a search pattern, but she could be anywhere. I need her to wake up.
I'll find her; I have to find her. If I don't, she stops breathing, and I'll be alone.
