Status Extinct

She sat in the darkness of the command cabin, sniffed, and felt sorry for herself. She stared through the viewscreen as the ship touched down with a gentle bump. For as far as she could see, the world was covered in a thin layer of snow. Gray, leafless trees, like umbrellas stripped of their covering, dotted the hilly terrain. The sky was gray, and low on the horizon a tiny sun burned orange. Even as she watched, a new fall of snow began.

Humankind had been exploring the stars for fifty years, and not one species of intelligent alien had been found. It seemed that only humankind existed, alone in the universe. Jessica often thought that humanity was like a child growing up without playmates, lonely and in need of company.

We need to find intelligent aliens, she told herself. Humanity needs playmates.

"Computer, what's the atmosphere like out there, and the temperature?"

She read the screen, atmosphere: ninety-fight

PERCEN'I EARTH-NORMAL, TEMPERATURE: FIVE DEGREES BELOW ZERO, ADVISE USE OF ENVIRONMENT SUIT.

"I'll do that, computer," Jessica said.

She broke her suit out of storage and climbed into it, then ran checks on the air supply and radio links. She would go out for a short exploratory walk lasting no more than thirty minutes, collecting samples of soil and plant life for computer to analyze. Later, after she had returned and slept, she would take the buggy out and explore further afield.

Before she sealed her helmet, she blew her nose for the last time. She had taken anti-influenza pills for the past twenty-four hours, but still felt no better. Her head ached and her throat was sore. She told herself that she was being weak: here she was, an intrepid pilot-explorer, complaining about a common cold.

She stepped into the airlock, and then walked down the ramp to the surface of Winterworld.

She crunched over the frost-hard ground, climbing a low hill toward a stand of bare, gray trees. Her footsteps shattered the silver leaves of a thistle-like plant that covered the surface of the land. She knelt and clumsily picked up the broken leaves in her gloved fingers, then dropped them into her samples bag.

She climbed the hill, and at the top turned to survey the view. Her orange and white ship was the only splash of color in the gray landscape. Beyond the ship to the south, a vast plain stretched away to a distant sea. She turned and looked north: the hills climbed, became foothills, then rose to become high, snow-covered mountains.

She looked down the hill, into the valley. Fifty me­ters away she saw a low bush decorated with yellow flowers. She decided to collect a sample of the flowers, then return to the ship.

She was halfway down the hill when she lost her footing. Her boots shot out from under her and she crashed painfully onto her back, sliding down the hillside like a runaway toboggan.

Too late, she saw the drop before her. She tried to grab hold of passing plants, tried to slow her slide. She screamed as the hillside disappeared beneath her and she fell through the air. She hit the ground with an impact that knocked the breath from her lungs, tore her suit, and smashed the faceplate of her helmet. She rolled over and over, pain shooting through her body.

She came to a stop at the bottom of the ravine. She lay on her back, staring up into the gray alien sky. When she tried to move, the pain became too much and she passed out.