Elora-Danen

It's a nudge from the Naiad orbiter that brings me fully to my senses, and, instinctively, I find myself checking my systems. Power from her solar panels quickly floods my own circuits, and I flex instruments and senses that feel like they've been dormant for all too long. Which they have, of course. "Wakey, wakey," the Naiad's saying, as I burn through the reports and telemetry my body's feeding me. Some of my instruments have iced-up, I realise. But that's a minor concern. Everything else is sound. "Are we there yet?" I reply. "We are indeed." "Mayfly, this is control. " The signal's peppered with static, and I quickly adjust for the D