Kgo Multi -

He named it "Salvation." He told it his fears, his hopes, the name of the girl back on Ceres who’d laughed when he said he’d get rich in the Belt. The tool never answered, but its little green light blinked steadily, a silent promise that as long as it had power, he had a chance.

The Kgo Multi wasn't a weapon. Not technically. It was a "multi-tool for extreme environments," which meant it could drill through Martian basalt, cauterize a wound, and brew a single cup of surprisingly good coffee. To Kaelen, stranded on a dead moon with a leaking suit and a dead radio, it was salvation. Kgo Multi

"Okay, little buddy," he whispered, his breath fogging the inside of his visor. "Show me what ‘multi’ really means." He named it "Salvation

He’d found the wreck of the Ishimura three cycles ago. Everyone else was gone—evacuated or dead. He’d been the maintenance grunt, the one who drew the short straw to stay behind and "secure the core." When the emergency thrusters fired unexpectedly, he was thrown clear. The Ishimura became a firework against the rings of the gas giant. Kaelen became a speck. Not technically

Then he remembered the rumor. Old spacers said the Kgo Multi had a hidden mode—a deep-spectrum transponder. Not for communication, but for listening . He twisted the dial past the last marked setting, feeling a click that wasn’t in the manual.

He reprogrammed the tool’s coffee maker to distill the vapor into drinking water. He used the cauterizer to seal a tear in his suit’s knee. And for the next forty-seven days, until a salvage vessel picked up his jury-rigged signal, Kaelen talked to the Kgo Multi.

The Kgo Multi didn't have a "hope" setting. But that day, it didn't need one.