Personal Log – Maria Dicello
Sol 191 / 10 July 2040
Hab Alpha A4, Mars
We left Hab Alpha A2 this morning under clear skies, packed and prepared for the next leg of the journey — our slow, dust-colored crossing toward Alpha A4.
Jianyu followed Pierre and me in the second mini rover, the one he rebuilt from parts just yesterday. It handled beautifully across the terrain — stable, quick to respond, and eerily quiet, even on the coarse Martian gravel. He looked proud behind the controls, and rightly so.
There’s a rhythm now to how we move: checklists, route confirmations, water intake, suit seal double-checks, and always a quick glance at each other’s eyes before we roll out. I’ve come to treasure that — the silent language of trust.
The journey itself was quiet. Just the gentle rocking of the rovers and the red hills rising around us like old bones. At one point, I noticed a single, jagged rock casting a long shadow across a perfectly flat stretch. I made a mental note to photograph it on the return — something about its loneliness caught me off guard.
We reached Alpha A4 just past midday. From the outside, it looked intact — same structure, same seals, same configuration as the others. But once we began our perimeter sweep, we noticed something troubling: the pressure readings from the lower cargo level were slightly off. And through the hatch viewport, I could see that several crates had broken open. Not a total failure — not dangerous, yet — but enough to warrant caution.
We decided not to rush it.
Pierre made the call: rest first, investigate fresh tomorrow. He’s right, as usual. Fatigue makes mistakes, and on Mars, mistakes cost more than time.
So we’ve settled into the upper level for the night. The systems are holding well — heat, air, even water pressure. Jianyu made tea again (Martian green, his specialty), and we sat in a circle reviewing the inspection plan for tomorrow. There was quiet laughter, some teasing. It felt... familiar.
This is what building a new world looks like. One step, one rover, one dusty gloveprint at a time.
— Maria