"Okay." She breathes, briefly bolstered without realizing it. Fake she can handle. Fake is— well, it's every day, to her mind. Virtual space made tangible is practically how she gets paid half the time. And as long as she doesn't focus on the fact that this actually happened— or will happen, depending on the flow of time— it doesn't really matter. "Okay, te entiendo."

Her steps come more quickly, attention focused on the horizon rather than the ground ahead as she sidesteps corpses, tangled together down into the earth: makes it easier, thinking that if she walks far enough, they'll be done with this.

"Are you picking up any signals yet?"

Any signs of life from the crew they'd left behind.