It was getting dark when Kenta's transport reached the outlying buildings of Hab-4. They were only hazardous materials storage and power facilities, but they were a beacon of hope to Kenta. She drove on, slumped over the steering wheel breathing shallowly. She felt so weary. It took all of her strength just to control the transport, but the sight of something other than drab dust perked her up. She followed the line of markers leading to the central habitation area where all the supplies she would need were waiting.

The wheels skidded to a stop just centimeters from one of the short buildings. Kenta fell back in her seat. "Oops." she whispered, shutting down the vehicle. She looked over toward the building's entrance and sat gazing at the dimly lit sign next to the door. This storage should be filled with water, food and medical supplies, yet she couldn't seem to pull her tired muscles up out of the seat. She tried to focus, but managed little more than to raise her arm and reach helplessly toward her goal. Her frustration turned to anger, fear, desperation. Her mouth opened to shout, but only a rasping breath came from her parched, numb throat.

She slowly swung her head in despair and felt her body sway side to side. She shook harder, rocking herself back and forth. With one final effort she managed to swing her body out the side of the transport and tumbled head first onto the forgiving sand.

When she opened her eyes Kenta was laying on the floor of the storage building. Toppled containers and pouches covered the floor around her. Several hydration pouches were emptied or leaking their vitamin laced electrolye into a puddle on the floor. She had no memory of crawling across the sand or operating the door controls. She stared up at the lights on the ceiling and wondered at the intensity of her will to survive. The attack on Hab-3 seemed like a distant memory and she wasn't sure how many days it had been since then. Gradually her thoughts came together and she started to evaluate her position. She was still weak, sore and painfully hungry, but her mind was clear and she was regaining control over her body.

Kenta rolled over onto her hands and knees and gazed around at the containers. One of the toppled boxes was labeled "dehydrated nutrient packs" followed by a list of nutritional information and ingredients. These were the food blocks she had been consuming daily for years, but never had anything seemed so delicious as she tore off the thin plastic wrap and stuffed one into her mouth. She scooped up a half empty drink pouch from the floor and squirted the contents into her open mouth. The food immediately softened and took on the familiar, slightly chewy texture. She ate another, then a third in the same manner. Strength slowly returned to her limbs while she sat on the floor, back propped against a stack of containers, sipping her drink.

"What now?" she spoke aloud. Her momentary relief was interrupted by the memory of what had happened and her urgent need for a plan of action.