Zed sat alone in the bulb and waited. The landing had been rough but successful.

  While he wanted nothing more than to collapse into a deep sleep, Zed knew he couldn’t ignore his broken arm, much as he’d like to. The onboard med kit was surprisingly comprehensive and included instructions for dealing with a broken arm.

  Whether from pain or shock, he barely remembered, but when he woke several hours later, it was done. That was one thing he was more than happy to forget.

  The pod had an automatic distress beacon, but without access to comms, Zed wasn’t sure how useful that would be to the people in Naug. And so he waited, unsure if anyone even knew he was still on the planet. He had no sense of where he was in relation to the colony. His only view of the outside was through the tiny porthole in the hatch, mostly blocked by a rock face.

  His left glove was still floating around on the way station, so exiting the bulb and attempting to walk his way out of this was out of the question. The pod was intended for up to three people, so he had enough supplies for a few weeks if he was careful. That really didn’t matter, though, because without his next dose of that mysterious Martian mushroom, he’d be dead long before starvation had a chance to take him out.

  There was something that scared him more than hunger, however. Without his CIG, there were no distractions—nothing but silence and his own internal core as a final target for Unen to pick apart. He’d known this day would come almost from the moment he’d first eaten that cursed plant, but he’d hoped he could hold it at bay.

  Everything that had happened since Zed arrived on Mars, and how he’d responded, marched around his mind like a parade of pain and regret. No, that wasn’t entirely true. Even as Unen brought his mistakes and foolishness to the harsh light, it also highlighted moments of real wisdom and bravery. Zed didn't know what to think of it all or even of himself, so he tried not to. He just watched and let Unen do what it seemed to do best: take pieces and put them together.

  Some of those pieces Zed would rather have left untouched, pushed to the deep recesses of his mind.

  Thoughts like, “Your selfishness put the people around you at risk.”

  “You’re nice, but you’re not kind.”

  “You’re terrified of feeling helpless, and you’ll hurt people to avoid it.”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Your parents care about you, but they don’t love you.”

  As that last thought came forward, Zed pushed back hard, but it was no use. He cried hot tears in the dull quiet of the tiny inflatable egg that was keeping each sob from being his last. Despite the pain, there was a new and very real freedom in staring his own demons down, especially when he knew death would be knocking on the pod hatch all too soon.

  There came a point when Unen seemed to reach the bottom. With every flaw, fear, and failure laid bare, something shifted. Unen began to build. Gently at first. Zed realized that it wasn't fixing him or ridding him of flaws; Unen was showing him a way forward. It was as if Unen was revealing a picture of the pieces of himself, broken and otherwise, giving him a glimpse of how they might fit into a better whole.

  It was equal parts hopeful and horrifying.

  To Zed's surprise, a new layer of thoughts was pushed forward from Unen. These were different. They weren't about what was going on inside but about his future.

  What future? Zed thought. I've got days to live at most.

  Unen ignored this and pressed on. Zed felt like he was being taken on a ride through a possible future. In a relentless flash of images, he saw what Mars could become, what humanity could grow to be, with the Unen plants as a catalyst.

  "But there's not enough. I don't know how fast those plants grow, but there's not enough for every human, not to mention the whole deadly dependence thing."

  As if in response, Zed saw a small group of people appear before him in his mind. He couldn't see their faces, but the message in his mind was clear.

  A core group. Johns had the right idea in that at least, Zed thought.

  A small group of people with as much information on as wide a range of topics as possible could work. Not so many that the mushroom crop couldn't sustain them indefinitely, but enough that they could push out advances and discoveries that would benefit the rest of humanity.

  Then there was an odd moment. Whether it was Unen giving him some final kindness or something else entirely, Zed couldn’t be sure. A quiet voice whispered in his mind.

  “You’re not going to die here. Not yet.”

  The following day was to be his last. At first, he thought he was fine. He woke up that morning with just his usual aches and pains. As the day wore on, he started to feel it. In some ways, it felt like the inverse of the first time he’d eaten the plant. Instead of a tear opening up, he felt like his mind was being slowly sewn shut.

  His thoughts became muddy. The first seizure was brief but intense. The second and third were much worse. The way they pulled at his broken arm was more than he could bear, but there was no escape.

  At one point, Zed was sure he saw a face looking back at him through the porthole, but he didn’t feel like he could trust his own mind anymore.

  A few minutes later, the entire bulb felt like it was moving. Then the hatch was flung open. He expected to feel the impossibly cold Martian air flood in and steal the last few minutes of his life away from him. Instead, he felt warmth and gentle arms lifting him from his chair.

  Something was placed on his tongue. He could hear distant voices coaxing him to swallow.

  “Zed. Come on, Zed. You’ve got to swallow it down. That’s it, here’s some water. Careful. We found you, Zed. We’re gonna get you home.”