“Omigosh. The signal. What happened?”

Running to the machine on its metal pedestal, she studied it frantically. Surely, there was some knob, button, or switch to restart the signal. Her gaze swept over the smooth metal surface.

Nothing.

Not a word of print or engraved instruction marred its gray veneer.

“Come on.” She tapped the front and sides with her knuckles. “Beep, buzz. Do something. You can’t be broken.”

The box stayed silent.

“No, no, no. Now they’ll never find me.” Jenny gave the quiet box an angry slap. All that did was hurt her palm. “Ow!”

She winced and rubbed her hand against her thigh. “Why did you break down? Why?” She leaned her forehead against the cold surface. “Answer me, you blasted machine!”

Something touched her arm. Something warm and soft. She looked around.

The little white dog was nuzzling at her hand with his nose, looking up at her with anxious brown eyes.

“Quit that.” She pushed him away. “Can’t you see this is serious? Of course you can’t. You’re just a dumb dog. Why couldn’t I have been marooned with a ’droid or something? At least, it’d be able to talk to me. Why did it have to be a bunch of dogs?”

Stranded.

The word swirled around in her brain. No clothes. No company. And nothing to eat but Gramps’ freeze-dried stuff. Now there’d be no bragging to Mary-Beth, no handsome stranger, and she’d never see Mums and Daddy again. She couldn’t see Gramps to let him know he was now the second Halpen in space by proxy.

And someday in the far, far, distant future, a ship might stop here to explore, and find her bones—or a few bits and pieces, perhaps a finger or a toe—and wonder who she had been. Perhaps some industrious journalist would go through his newspaper’s digital archives and find a story about a teenager lost when a spaceliner was hit by an asteroid.

A tear trickled down her cheek. She envisioned a tombstone projecting from a forest of weeds. Here lies Jenny Halpen, Castaway.

A second tear followed the first, then another, and another.

The dam burst.

Face against her arms, she leaned against the seat of the nearest passenger chair, shoulders shaking. For a few moments, only the sound of Jenny’s sobs broke the silence in the pod.

The tears continued, wracking and heart-breaking.

Jenny stopped in mid-cry. Did I really hear someone?

Stifling the last sob into a hiccough, she forced herself to be quiet. I did hear someone.

“Wh-where are you?” She looked around, expecting—hoping—to see someone emerge from one of the other seats.

Had another castaway been hiding, watching, listening to her cry? That’d be embarrassing, but she’d forgive him. Jenny’s heart beat a little faster. Maybe if she was lucky, it’d be Handsome Stranger.

“Where?” She looked around, raising her voice. “I can’t see you. Come out.”

“Where? Where are you?” Wiping her cheeks, she clambered to her feet.

Outside. That’s it. Another escape pod landed. People.

Jenny dashed to the hatch.

The little white dog threw himself into her path. She dodged. He jumped in front of her again, and she nearly tripped over him in her haste to get to the hatch.

“Move, you stupid animal. Can’t you hear? There’s someone outside.” Picking him up, she tossed him out of the way. He landed against the signal box with a thud and a yelp. Then Jenny was at the hatch, fumbling with the wheel-lock.

Hand on the wheel, she stopped, turning to look back into the pod.

The three little dogs sat in the center of the aisle. The white one rubbed his head with the back of one paw.

Staring at the three of them, Jenny took a hesitant step forward. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you just told me your head hurt,” she said to the white dog.