Thirteen Ways of Looking by Colum McCann:
Sandi sits in the dark, wearing a watch strapped to the outside of her wrist, over her tan Nomex fireproof gloves, waiting for the countdown. There have been problems with the phone signal in the past—dropped calls, endless ringing, failed satellites.
It is too early yet to call but she keys the phone alive anyway and touches the ridges of the numbers, a rehearsal.
Out beyond the outpost, nothing but the dark and the white frost on the land. The stars themselves like bulletholes above her.