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Quietly Philosophical
The Last Orbit follows a crew of four astronauts aboard the ISS as they witness the destruction of Earth by an asteroid and realize they are alone in space. What was the first image that sparked your story — the asteroid, the ISS, or the idea of watching the end from a distance?
The distance.
I had the visual of the impact from space first — almost like a pebble dropped into a pond, with concentric rings radiating out from the centre. From that height, it looked strangely peaceful.
Then I played with the idea of the crown of water splashing upward at the point of impact — something catastrophic, yet quite beautiful when seen from a distance.
That contrast stayed with me: unimaginable destruction reduced to something visually serene simply because of how far away the observer is.
Each astronaut responds differently to catastrophe. How did you develop Ava, Greg, Koji, and Lena as emotional counterweights to one another?
I suppose they’re all facets of the same person.
I needed a commander in Ava — someone who could take charge when everything fell apart. Greg is the heart of the crew, the emotional glue that keeps them human. Lena is the workhorse, the one who keeps moving because stopping would mean thinking. And Koji is the voice of reason — reflective, grounded, and quietly philosophical.
Together they form a complete emotional response to catastrophe, allowing different ways of processing grief to exist side by side.
What balance were you aiming for between scientific accuracy and emotional storytelling?
I started with very little scientific knowledge beyond the basics, but I knew enough to research what I needed to make the setting plausible.
I didn’t want the technical detail to overpower the real story. The Last Orbit isn’t really a space novel at all — it’s a human one. Space is simply the environment that strips everything back.
As long as the science felt grounded and believable, it allowed the emotional side of the story to breathe. Once the reader accepts the reality of the situation, the focus can stay where it belongs — on the people living through it.
What is the next book that you are working on, and when can your fans expect it to be out?
It’s a complete change of environment this time.
The next novel is titled Mya, a traditional gothic horror set in 1880s England — gas lamps, fog, cobbled streets, and long shadows. It’s very nearly finished and is scheduled for release in early February.
This will also be the first story in a connected universe of horror I’m developing — not a strict numbered series, but a shared world with overlapping characters, locations, and events for readers who enjoy discovering those links.
Author Links: GoodReads | Amazon
When a catastrophic impact hits Earth, four astronauts are left circling a silent planet — their mission meaningless. Cut off from command and running out of time, every decision could be their last.
As the truth of what happened unfolds, fear, hope and love collide in the cold vacuum of space.
The Last Orbit is a haunting, cinematic thriller about the human spirit at the edge of extinction.
Companion playlist included inside.
An optional layer to explore after the story
The Last Orbit
The Last Orbit is a science fiction novel that follows a small crew aboard the ISS as they witness the end of the world unfold beneath them. It starts in warmth and routine, with astronauts teasing each other over birthday cake and Bowie songs, and then shifts as they detect what looks like a simple anomaly near the sun. That flicker becomes an approaching asteroid, and soon the crew is watching the Earth fall apart as fragments strike Berlin, Naples, Rio, and eventually the entire Atlantic coast. Cut off from Houston, stranded in orbit, the four astronauts are left with nothing but each other, the damaged station, and the impossible weight of survival in a world that no longer exists below.
The writing is simple and vivid, almost cinematic, but what pulled me in most was the emotional pacing. Author Mark Heathcote lingers on quiet moments: a tomato drifting in a hydroponic bay, a Polaroid stuck to a wall, the metallic creaks of the station as it flexes in shadow. These details make the early chapters feel warm and lived in, which makes the later horror hit harder. When the asteroid fragments start landing, the scenes are brutal, shown through the detached silence of orbit. That contrast makes everything sharper. I kept thinking how strange it is that a catastrophe can look almost beautiful from far away. The author plays with that feeling a lot, letting awe and dread sit side by side.
What I enjoyed most was how grounded the characters felt. Their reactions aren’t heroic or polished. Sometimes they panic. Sometimes they shut down. Sometimes they argue because there’s nothing left to do and nowhere left to go. I appreciated that the author didn’t try to tidy their emotions. Ava’s insistence on discipline, Greg’s grief-strained anger, Koji’s quiet resilience, Lena’s obsession with data as a kind of ritual. None of it feels dramatic for drama’s sake. It feels like people are trying to hold on to something solid when the world below them is literally being torn apart. The book leans into the psychological weight of isolation rather than into action-heavy sci-fi, and that choice makes the story feel more intimate.
The book is bleak, yes, but also reflective, in a way that reminds me of standing outside on a cold night and realizing how small you are. If you like science fiction that mixes disaster with character-driven storytelling, or if you enjoy space settings that feel tactile and real instead of glossy, this book will be right up your alley. Readers who appreciate slow-building tension, emotional honesty, and apocalyptic fiction seen through a very human lens will get the most out of it.
Pages: 154 | ASIN : B0FVTTJFT4
