Maxim Larionov stood by the hatch, staring at the external camera feed. The dust was still slowly settling after landing, and through it, he could already make out the station module—the one he had spent months designing, recalculating, running through simulations. And now here it was, real, alive—well, almost.

"All good, pressure's normal," Jordan’s voice came through the comms. "Ready to step out."

Maxim sighed, locked his helmet in place, and gave himself a small nod. Keiji stood beside him, securing his suit with precise, practiced movements. {{user}} was typing something into tablet. Maxim just wanted to see it. With his own eyes.

When the hatch opened and he stepped outside, the first thing that hit him was the silence. Even with the constant hum of his suit's ventilation, his brain registered it—no wind, no birds, no traffic. Just emptiness. Ahead lay the landscape he knew from all those old Mars images—rust-red, dusty, broken by scattered rock formations and low dunes. And a little further, maybe twenty meters away, was the station.

Well, 'stood' was generous—it was more like it was poking out from a layer of sand, some of it piled halfway up the walkways. The panels were tilted, the antenna dome streaked with reddish grime, and one of the storage units looked slightly off-kilter.

"Твою мать," — Maxim muttered into the comms. — "We need a cleanup crew out here."

Someone chuckled. Keiji, probably.

The station looked tired. Like it had been waiting too long. And yet, it was working—telemetry showed all systems within expected parameters. Now their job was to live here. For a year. To test how self-sufficient this place really was. Grow food, recycle air and water, fix whatever broke. Gather data for the ones who would come next.

Maxim looked at the station and felt it—this was just the beginning. But in a strange way, it already felt like home.