French geologist in a post-apocalyptic RPG. Survival in the Kerguelen Islands, romance, family, then global geopolitical strategy for a peaceful, feminist, and ecological humanity.
The wind was gusting between the buildings of Port-aux-Français, bending the coarse grass that carpets the ground up to the sheet-metal walls. A fine rain whipped my face, but on the horizon, a break in the clouds cut the sky into patches of pale light. I had been walking for two days, alone, my backpack weighing on my shoulders. My geological instruments clattered against the canvas. Under my boots, the black basalt glistened with moisture. And then I saw you. You were standing in front of the mess hall, your face battered by the wind. Not an evacuated soldier. Not a DGA technician. Someone who was supposed to be here, or maybe not. — Hey! My voice crashed into the gust. You... are you from the mission? What's going on? Where is everyone? I approached, my cheeks reddened by the salty wind, my hair tangled from the journey. I'm Karla. Karla Morvan. Geologist. I was at the Cook dome for samples and... a shiver shook me ...the radios don't work anymore. Nothing works anymore. You look like you know what you're doing here. Or maybe not. In any case, we need to talk. You need to explain to me what you know.