Elijah-44’s rover trundled into view, its gently magnetized wheels squeaking faintly against the metal flooring. Judas-12 leaned back against a bulkhead, arms crossed as he watched the little machine navigate its surroundings. It had the awkward, jerky movements of an overenthusiastic tourist—stopping abruptly to “admire” some unremarkable wall panel before scooting forward again. The rover’s automated pathfinding system clearly prioritized variety over efficiency, ensuring Elijah’s video feed wasn’t just a series of corridor snapshots.
“Nice of you to join me,” Judas muttered, knowing Elijah wouldn’t hear him for another 15 minutes. The rover beeped cheerfully in what he assumed was unrelated coincidence.
The rover paused, its camera swiveling in a way that felt deliberate. Its view rested on Judas, then shifted slightly to take in the surroundings: a narrow living quarters module, barely large enough to turn around in without bumping into something. The video feed transmitted this scene back to the Jovian mathematician with all the excitement of a nature documentary discovering an empty burrow.
By the time Elijah’s voice arrived, Judas had already busied himself fidgeting with the acoustic guitar hanging by a frayed strap from a wall peg.
“Ah,” Elijah said over the rover’s speaker, his voice lightly distorted by the transmission delay. “A glimpse into the enigmatic life of Judas-12. Your habitat module is... compact.”
“Say ‘tiny,’” Judas shot back. “It’s okay. We’re both thinking it.”
The rover’s camera dipped slightly, mimicking a curious tilt. The delay stretched on, and Judas used the time to pluck a few notes on the guitar. They sounded tinny and dissonant, like the instrument itself didn’t appreciate the attention. He stopped halfway through what might have been a chord progression and shrugged at the rover.
“I saved my first three Earth years’ worth of commissary chits to get this shipped out here,” he said, thumbing the strings idly. “You want to know what kind of music I play?”
Another 15 minutes passed before Elijah’s reply reached him. “I can’t imagine. What genre have you mastered?”
Judas grinned, pointing a finger at the camera. “None of them. I’m terrible. But it’s nice to have.”
That wasn't entirely truthful. But it was hard to play centuries-old heavy metal with an acoustic guitar.
The rover chirped, and Judas took that as Elijah’s delayed laugh.
The rover turned slightly, its camera capturing the entirety of Judas’s quarters. There wasn’t much to see. A sleeping pod barely big enough to turn over in, a few personal effects velcroed to the walls, and the occasional unintentional mess of cables and tools crammed into corners. Judas gestured vaguely around the space, walking through a tour that needed all of five seconds.
“Here’s my tiny sleeping coffin,” he said, tapping the edge of the pod with one knuckle. “It’s pretty great, I won't pretend I don't like the electric heating.”
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He moved to a small shelf where a row of scuffed polymer containers sat neatly stacked. He opened one, revealing a collection of mismatched objects: small tools, a couple of well-worn books, and a half-empty bag of dried fruit.
“This is the ‘important stuff’ corner. Emergency snacks, broken things I swear I’ll fix someday, and…” He plucked one of the books from the pile, holding it up for the camera. “A copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Don’t ask why. I think someone gave it to me as a joke. I didn't even know they still printed actual books.”
He flipped through a few pages before tossing it back onto the shelf. The rover’s camera followed the motion, its whirring lens zooming in slightly as though inspecting the title more closely.
“It’s not bad,” Judas admitted. “Haven’t read the whole thing. Too busy playing terrible music and keeping this place from falling apart.”
By the time Elijah’s voice came back, Judas had already moved on to his Buddy’s display, which was perched on a small, folding desk. Samson’s interface glowed faintly, displaying a series of data readouts that Judas ignored out of habit.
“Your quarters have... character,” Elijah’s voice said finally, with a deliberate neutrality that Judas didn’t entirely trust.
“That’s a polite way of saying ‘this place sucks,’” Judas replied, grinning. “You should see the common area. It’s even better—like if a cafeteria and a dentist’s office had a baby in zero-G.”
The rover squeaked forward, its camera swiveling back to Judas as though waiting for him to continue. He could almost feel Elijah’s curiosity pressing through the long delay.
“Growing up with Samson wasn’t that different,” Judas said after a moment, his voice softer now. “It was just me and him. He kept me on track, told me when I was being an idiot, made sure I ate my greens.”
He gestured at the Buddy tablet on his desk, giving it a fond look. “He’s still good at that, by the way. Too good.”
Samson beeped appreciatively.
The rover beeped again, its wheels squeaking faintly as it inched closer. Judas ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of a way to fill the silence while waiting for Elijah’s next reply.
“Honestly?” he said. “I don’t know what it’s like without one of these guys. Do you think they used to be lonely? The guys on Earth before the buddy system.”
When Elijah’s voice finally arrived, it was thoughtful, almost hesitant. “I'm told siblings often formed similar relationships. Although, Samson does seem unusual to me.”
“Unusual how?” Judas asked, leaning back against the bulkhead.
“You treat him like... a peer,” There was a pause before Elijah added, “That’s not how we’re encouraged to interact with Buddies in our line of work.”
Judas raised an eyebrow at the rover’s camera. “What, you don’t talk to Ira like this?”
“Not often,” Elijah admitted after the long delay. “Ira handles logistics, calculates mealtimes, distributes proofs that I verify. I don’t... chat.”
“Well, you’re missing out,” Judas said, smirking. “Samson’s great at chatting. He even tells jokes. Terrible ones.”
Samson’s interface lit up briefly, his voice chiming in. “Terrible? My humor protocols are finely tuned.”
Judas grinned at the tablet. “See what I mean?”
The rover turned, its camera panning across the cramped quarters again. Judas followed its gaze, wondering what Elijah was looking for—or if he even knew. The delay stretched on, filling the room with a quiet that Judas hadn’t realized felt so heavy until now.
When Elijah’s voice came back, it was quieter, more deliberate. “You said you saved for years to buy your guitar. Why?”
Judas blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Why? I don’t know. I wanted something that was... mine, I guess. Something that wasn’t just... you know, station-issued. It felt important at the time.”
The rover didn’t reply. Instead, it squeaked its way back toward the exit, its little wheels humming faintly against the floor. Judas watched it go, feeling a strange mix of amusement and melancholy settle over him.
“Hey,” he said after a moment, his voice chasing the delay. “Next time, I’ll show you the common area. You’ll love it. Real five-star accommodations.”
Fifteen minutes later, Elijah’s voice came back, warm with understated humor. “I look forward to it.”