The Pegasus IV ship drifted through the interstellar void like a grain of sand lost in an endless ocean. Its metal frame, bathed in the cold light of distant stars, vibrated imperceptibly as its ion propulsion engines worked tirelessly. Inside, everything seemed to be in order: status lights blinked in a regular rhythm and life support systems maintained a stable atmosphere. Four hibernation pods housed its precious human cargo. However, within the bowels of the life support system, something had begun to fail.

Helen woke up with a start, as if a wave of ice water had pushed her to the surface. The air that filled her lungs was dry and stale. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of the module. Her first sensation was confusion, followed by a pang of alarm as she remembered where she was: on a journey to the exoplanet Gliese-581g. A second pang of alarm awoke in her: the clock read the year 2150. There were still five years to go. There had to be some mistake. This was not the time to wake up.

Forcing herself to move her numb limbs, Helen tried to rise, but her body, weak from years of inactivity, was not fully responsive. From somewhere nearby, a cold, mechanical voice broke the silence: -”Commander Helen Carter, your hibernation cycle has been interrupted due to a critical malfunction in the life support system. Proceeding with emergency protocols.”-

-”HELIOS?”- He murmured, recognizing the voice of the artificial intelligence -”Inform me. What ... what’s going on?”-

-”A failure in life support unit 3C has caused a dangerous buildup of carbon dioxide in the affected capsules. You and crew member Viktor Volkov have been awakened as a precautionary measure. The remaining capsules remain stable.”-

Helen’s heart skipped a beat. Viktor Volkov, the chief engineer and husband of the other crew member, Gabrielle Moreau, shouldn’t be awake. Neither should she.

-”What about the other capsules? My husband Robert? What about Gabrielle?” She asked about her husband, pilot Robert Atkins.

-”Both crew members are safe. No abnormalities were detected in their units or carbon dioxide buildup.” Helen closed her eyes for a moment, trying to take the information in. “This shouldn’t be happening,” she thought. Minutes later, Helen heard a sound from the next module. Almost crawling out of her capsule, she reached the compartment where Viktor was being disconnected from his. Their eyes met briefly; he was as disoriented as she was, but his training as an astronaut allowed him to remain functional even in the midst of bewilderment.

-”Helen? What’s going on?”- He asked hoarsely, barely recognizing his own voice after so much time in hibernation.

-”A malfunction in life support”- She replied -”HELIOS woke us up preemptively. Our partners are safe ... or at least that’s what the AI says”-

Viktor frowned, trying to get up. Despite the pain in his muscles, he managed to get to his feet with Helen’s help. They both knew what this meant: five years of travel left with no chance of returning to the capsule, five years awake while their spouses remained in suspended animation.

-”How bad is the damage?”- Viktor asked as he headed to the nearest terminal.

HELIOS responded before Helen could articulate a reply - “The damage has been contained. However, the capacity of the hibernation capsules and the human body do not allow the cycle to be reactivated once interrupted, until ten years have passed.”

They exchanged a look, the gravity of the situation falling on them like a lead slab.

After hours of inspection and adjustments, Viktor and Helen sat in the ship’s small common cabin, sharing an awkward silence. The situation was clear: they would stay awake until they reached Gliese-581g, enough time to complete the landing preparations and ensure the safety of their partners upon awakening.

-”We can’t do anything more for now,” Viktor finally said, breaking the silence. “The system is contained. There are no more immediate failures.”

Helen nodded, but her mind was far away. She was thinking of her husband Robert, still in his pod, unaware of what was happening. She was trying to convince herself that this wasn’t so bad, that at least everyone was still alive. Yet a part of her knew that these five years were going to be hell.

Viktor seemed to read her mind. “This ... wasn’t in the plan. But we’ll get through this, Helen. We’ll get through this as a team, you know?”

Helen nodded again, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to believe it.

The routine inside the ship began quickly. Helen and Viktor knew that the only way to maintain their sanity for so long was to focus on the job. They checked every system on the ship, recalibrated the modules, and began initial preparations for landing on Gliese-581g, even though they still had years of travel left. But even with their busy schedules, time seemed to drag on endlessly.

The rest periods, officially classified as “nights,” were the worst. The main cabin felt too empty for two people, and the echoes of silence became deafening. Helen slept little, often dreaming of her husband or of the mission that seemed increasingly distant. Viktor, for his part, spent hours in front of HELIOS’s holographic projections, reviewing again and again the data of the planet that awaited them and observing astronomical maps, exoplanets, moons and galaxies.

They both knew that five years was too long to be alone, even with a partner, as was precisely the case. After a few months, the awakening had begun to break them. But it was just the beginning. Some three years after the initial incident, Helen and Viktor were trying to maintain their sanity.

The alarm clock rang every day, trying to maintain the circadian rhythm. It was a soft but incessant tone that HELIOS, the ship’s artificial intelligence, modulated according to the psychological health of the awake crew. In the common cabin, Helen reached out to turn it off before Viktor did. It was her turn to prepare breakfast, a routine they had agreed on not so much out of necessity, but to maintain an illusion of order in a place where time seemed to dissolve.

Viktor was already awake, hovering in front of one of the control panels. His expression was neutral, as if he were trying to erase any emotion before the commander could interpret it. She, however, knew him well enough to notice the tension in his shoulders.

“How are the systems today?” Helen asked as she activated the packet warmer. The metallic packets of food puffed up with a soft hiss, releasing synthetic aromas of what was supposed to be coffee and oatmeal.

-”Stable. HELIOS adjusted the secondary routes to optimize energy consumption. Nothing to worry about,” Viktor replied without turning around. His voice was mechanical, almost directed at the air rather than at Helen. Breakfast passed in silence, except for the soft rustling of envelopes being opened and the stifled sips. Talking for the sake of talking had ceased to be a necessity months ago, when they both understood that words could be both a refuge and a weapon.

Daily work on the ship was tedious but vital: checking seals, recalibrating sensors, running landing simulations. Helen took care of the life support systems and agricultural modules, while Viktor worked on the external structure and propulsion engines. Space was vast, but the ship was not. They shared every corner, every glance, every sigh.

One afternoon, while adjusting the mechanical loading arm in the main bay, Helen tripped over one of the floating cables and instinctively grabbed onto Viktor’s suit for support. Their bodies were close, too close. For an instant, the simulated gravity seemed to intensify, pulling them toward a common center. “Thank you,” Helen said, quickly turning away and returning to her task, her voice a little higher than normal, as if trying to drown out the moment.

Viktor just nodded, but his normally steady hands shook slightly as he took back control of the mechanical arm. Helen kept a diary, even though she knew Viktor did not approve. She wrote it on a tablet she kept hidden in her personal compartment, describing not only her daily tasks but also the feelings that gnawed at her. While alone in the agricultural module, Helen checked the floating roots of the plants they had managed to grow using hydroponics. Her hands worked with mechanical movements, sliding nutrients into the small transparent chambers, trying to let the daily activity take her away from her fears. But her mind was caught in a whirlwind of emotions that overwhelmed her soul.

Every time she closed her eyes, the scene repeated itself. Ragged breaths, Viktor’s naked body intertwined with hers. The way they had crossed a line that night that neither of them wanted to mention openly. It was as if desires had been unleashed between them that they couldn’t contain.

But now, with the cold light of artificial daylight illuminating the ship, guilt was his only company. Hours earlier he had written in his journal:

“Day 1120. I looked at him today and felt something that shouldn’t be there. It’s not love, I think. It’s something more ... visceral. I think Viktor senses it ... or at least feels it too. So much time alone, keeping each other company. I’ve almost forgotten my husband’s voice, his caresses, the pleasure ... I need a distraction. Maybe I should work more hours on the hydroponic modules.”

Viktor, meanwhile, spent his nights in front of HELIOS’s star projector, watching the hologram of Gliese-581g and the real-time weather reports. It reminded him of why they were there, but it was also a cruel reminder of how much was missing. Sometimes, in the dim light of the observation room, he would murmur his wife’s name like a mantra, hoping the void wouldn’t answer.

“Day 1130. Today it happened. I can’t help but feel tremendous remorse, but in a way ... I needed it. As I was changing to shower, Viktor unexpectedly walked into the module. I was naked and I froze completely. Viktor was standing in the doorway and staring at me in shock. It felt like a fire was consuming us. He didn’t say anything ... he just came towards me as we stared straight into each other’s eyes. I did nothing to stop him. He just grabbed me and put his arms around me. While he was kissing me I took off his clothes. It was wild, brutal ... I’d almost say ... raw. I don’t remember having better sex in several years...”

A few nights after that encounter, while repairing a leak in the hydraulic system, HELIOS increased the ambient temperature to prevent the circuits from freezing. Both took off their protective suits, remaining in their thermal uniforms.

-”Do you remember when we were training in Nevada? The heat was unbearable,” Viktor said, breaking the silence. Helen smiled. “And you complained more than anyone else.”

-”Lie. It was you who insisted on seeking shade every ten minutes.”-

They laughed together, a short, almost desperate laugh, as if they had forgotten how to laugh. But when the sound died away, the ship seemed quieter than ever, and they both felt the weight of guilt return like an enveloping shadow.

Before turning off the lights, Helen and Viktor sat in the common cabin to go over the tasks for the next cycle. Between the two of them, they prepared a frugal dinner to share before going to sleep. When their hands brushed against each other as they reached for the same panel, they froze. There was no apology this time, no nervous laughter. Just a silence filled with everything they wanted to say and couldn’t.

They ate while talking about some experiences on Earth, before leaving on the Pegasus. At the end of the evening, Helen said goodbye to go to sleep.

-”Good night, Viktor,” Helen said, placing her hand lightly on the man’s arm and standing up to leave. Viktor was slow to respond, looking at the spot where the woman’s fingers had touched him. “Good night, Helen.” The cabin door closed with a whisper, leaving him alone in the emptiness they shared.

Helen was shocked to see herself in her bathroom mirror that same night. Her face was the same, but something in her gaze had changed. How much of her old life was left in her? She wondered if her husband, when he woke up, would recognize her.

She let out a sigh, brushing back a strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail. She thought of Robert, her husband, floating in the hibernation pod on the other side of the ship. His face always relaxed, peaceful. He didn’t know anything, couldn’t know. And that made the betrayal weigh even more.

“This wasn’t part of the plan,” she thought, gritting her teeth as she brushed her long, silky hair.

Beneath the robe, her naked body reacted to the touch of the soft silk that caressed her skin. A rush of sensuality ran through her body and she couldn’t help but think of Viktor. She had tried to justify it. Tell herself that the isolation, the time, the physical need had been too much to bear. That their bodies were simple machines looking for a way to ease the weight of loneliness. But that didn’t make Robert’s presence disappear from her mind.

She felt the sound of her cabin door sliding softly open. Footsteps echoed. Behind her, Viktor moved softly closer until he brushed her body. Helen felt her heart race as her lover’s hands opened her robe, sliding it to the floor as they followed the curves of her shoulders. From behind, Viktor embraced her naked body as Helen responded to his caresses by sliding her hands up the man’s bare arms.

Viktor kissed her neck slowly and sensually.

The next morning, Helen was working on a power panel when Viktor appeared in the entrance to the module, floating slightly as he held onto the door frame. She sensed his presence before looking up, an uncomfortable tingle running down her spine.

-”Can I help you?”- He offered, using a softer voice than usual.

“No need,” she replied, not looking directly at him. She had avoided being alone with him since the night before, but there wasn’t enough room on the ship to escape.

Viktor didn’t move. He stood there, watching her as she worked. His gaze wasn’t accusatory or demanding; it seemed more lost, as if he were searching for answers too.

-”Helen...”- He began to say, but she interrupted him, dropping an instrument with more force than necessary. -”Don’t do it”- He said nervously -”Let’s not mention it”-

Viktor replied disturbed as he frowned, “We can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.”

Helen turned to him, her eyes filled with tears and something deeper, which she didn’t want to admit. -”What do you want me to say? That it was a mistake? That it should never have happened? Because I know that, Viktor. I know that. But saying it out loud isn’t going to change what we already did.”-

He did not answer immediately. He clung to the door with one hand, as if Helen’s words had taken the air out of him. Finally, he spoke in a dull tone:

-”I’m sorry”-

-”Don’t apologize ... I was there too...”- Helen said in a bitter tone. -”We didn’t do it because we wanted to. We did it because ... because this...”- She gestured widely around the ship, taking in the endless void beyond the walls. -”This is breaking us from the inside.”-

After Viktor left, Helen was left silently checking an energy panel, wondering if she would ever feel clean in front of her husband again. For now, in the middle of space and facing an immense solitude, everything seemed to be suspended, even her own morality.

There were days when she tried to think of Robert as an anchor, wanting to have the memory of her husband holding her steady. But now, that memory hurt, like a silent reproach. What would he think if he knew? Would he understand her? Could he forgive her?

And the scariest thing of all: could she forgive herself?

A few nights later, Helen picked up her tablet and wrote in the journal she kept secret. The screen lit up her face as her fingers hovered over the keys, hesitant before finally typing:

“Day 1257. I’ve failed again. I can’t justify what we’re doing with Viktor, though I understand how we got here. Robert ... I love you, but there’s something about the emptiness, something about the loneliness, that’s changing me. I’d like to think I’m still the same woman you knew, but after everything that’s happened, I’m not sure who I am.”

She quickly put the tablet away, as if the act of recording her thoughts might incriminate her further. Then she turned off the lights and closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would offer her a respite that never came.

The Pegasus ship was shrouded in absolute silence, broken only by the hum of the systems that sustained life in the void. But inside their minds, Helen and Viktor found no rest. Memories of the past haunted them, like fleeting images that emerged at the least expected moments, sharpening their shared guilt and complicating their emotions.

Helen was reviewing the plans for landing on Gliese-581g for the umpteenth time when her treacherous mind took her back to a warm afternoon at the Space Training Center in Houston. Robert, her husband, was hunched over a hologram mapping the planet’s terrain. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he pointed out possible locations for a settlement.

-”Think of it, Helen: a house here, right on this plateau,” he had said, a smile lighting up his face. “We’ll have a direct view of the sunrise. And we could plant a little garden here, where the ground seems most fertile.” She had looked at him with a mix of love and skepticism - “Don’t you think we should make sure we survive first before planning gardens?”

Robert had laughed carefreely - “What if we don’t? Isn’t it better to imagine that we do? Dreams are the only thing that keeps us sane.” -

The memory was so vivid that Helen could almost feel the warmth of Robert’s hand on hers as he drew imaginary circles on the hologram. She closed her eyes, wishing that warmth would envelop her, but instead she found only the cold of the cabin and the shadow of what she had done.

Meanwhile, in the engineering workshop Viktor was adjusting a high-pressure connector when a smell of coffee, non-existent on the ship, suddenly hit him. It was a hallucination of his memory, transporting him to a lazy breakfast with Gabrielle, his wife, in their small Moscow apartment.

Winter sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the dust particles in the air as Gabrielle, still in her pajamas, poured him coffee.