We spent two weeks in Swiss Alps, hiking, climbing, skiing, and snowboarding. Though I knew it was a dream, a construct- I'd never done any of those things in my previous life, and soon, I forgot that it wasn't real. Barbas had an incredible array of data stored away somewhere, and as we carved the slopes, we saw other hikers, thrill seekers, and tourists, as if we really were breathing in the crisp cold of the Swiss mountain air. When we grew tired of the cold and the snow, Barbas took me by the elbow and turned me around a corner I couldn't see, and we were in pre-war Los Angeles before it had been bombed into slag. Forgetting the shape of the simulation, I was surprised and impressed when it turned out that Barbas had VIP access to even the most exclusive of clubs. It was like being wined and dined by a billionaire who could travel whenever, and wherever he pleased. It was a fantasy come true, and it was the first time in my entire life that I felt fully relaxed, fully comfortable. We took our breakfasts on the balconies of high-rise lofts in Manhattan, spent our mornings sunning at the top of Giza's tallest pyramid, swam nude in the deliciously hot deep spring spas in Iceland, and ate dinner with my favorite historical figures. I became very comfortable with Barbas, and we talked like old friends, discussing whatever came to mind, from my childhood as a ward of the state to the fascinating process of his own creation. It truly was an extended vacation both for my body and my mind, and I could have stayed in that state forever. I could have basked alone in my own personal paradise, with an astoundingly attractive djinni to keep me company, and satisfy my every desire. But all good things eventually had to end.

It was the third day of my fifth week when Barbas came to me in the cabin by the lake, his expression serious. “You’ve landed, Joanna,” he announced without preamble. “It seems the vacation has come to an end.”

I met his emerald eyes and frowned. “You seem awfully grim, Barbas.” I gestured to the cabin around us. “I’ll still have to sleep, and you can bring me back here when I do. This isn’t really goodbye.”

A somewhat ironic smile twisted his lips. "That's not what I'm worried about." He made a gesture in the air, and a window opened up before me from nowhere, as if he'd just wished a computer screen into existence before my eyes. The window showed me the view from behind my armor's faceplate. I was seeing out of my own, real eyes, but at a distance, as if they were cameras, and I was a security guard at a monitoring station. At first, I thought something must have happened to my suit's visor, because all I could see was white, with the power armor's Heads Up Display superimposed over the brilliant, featureless field. Then things started to come into focus as my physical eyes adjusted to the glare, and I realized that I was looking out over a vast, endless expanse of ice, sprawled lifeless beneath a merciless gray sky.

I turned to Barbas. “This must be one of the poles.”

Barbas shook his head grimly, "I doubt it. The Bullet doesn't have much by way of strong sensors, but our approach orbit to this rock took quite a while, and I got a good look at the world as we circled it. This planet is actually a moon, and it's tidally locked to its parent. What makes that a bad thing, is that for some reason the planet this moon is orbiting is also tidally locked to its parent star, and so we’re basically in a permanent eclipse, on the dark side of the planet. The only thing giving this ball of ice any warmth at all is the fact that we’re pretty close to the planet. It provides basically all of the light and heat you will see out there.”

“Well fuck,” I cursed. This didn’t sound at all like a beach full of underwear models. “Can I even terraform that? I’m supposed to make it fit for habitation in ten years. How am I going to make a planet capable of supporting life when I don’t even have sunlight to work with?”

Barbas showed his teeth in a non-smile. “I have no idea. But I know the only thing we really can do is start.”

“How cold is it out there?” I asked, resigning myself to some horrible answer.

He didn’t disappoint. “Most of the sensors on the Bullet were destroyed during reentry, but your suit’s outer measurements read at negative one-hundred fifty-six degrees Celsius, or around one-hundred seventeen Kelvin.”

I swore again. “How long can my suit withstand these temperatures?”

“Indefinitely,” he answered promptly, and then added, “Provided you establish some kind of shelter. The current wind speed is forty-eight kilometers per hour, but I was clocking storms moving upwards of three-hundred KPH.”

“Fucking hell.” I shook my head, staring out at the frozen wasteland before me. Just my luck. But there wasn’t time for wallowing in self-pity. If I didn’t have shelter by the time one of those storms came around, my armor wouldn’t be enough to keep me alive. “Alright then, Barbas. I guess you’re right. Vacation’s over, and we’d better get to work.”

The AI sighed, and nodded. Before I could ask how this went, I was no longer in the warm, comfortable cabin by the lake. I was ensconced in heavy armor, strapped into a thick, cylinder that was half buried in the ground by its own impact. I tore away the straps and got to my feet, ducking the edge of the open hatch in the side of my Bullet and lumbering my power armored bulk outside. I was standing in the midst of a frozen hells cape, and I had to turn it into a home, or thousands of settlers would die here. No pressure at all. Barbas' voice came through my helmet speakers. "Welcome to Chalice Colony, Joanna. Good luck."