Around me, the tension unraveled from the crew like an invisible thread snapping loose. You could feel the collective exhale, the shift from a state of survival to something more relaxed.

I leaned back in my seat for just a moment, letting the silence settle. My fingers flexed against the armrests as I let out a long breath, just letting my muscles relax.

“Quite the ride,” I muttered under my breath as I unbuckled and rolled my shoulders.

“Alright, let’s get geared up,” Amelia said.

Every click and snap of her harness being undone felt like part of a drill she’d run a hundred times before.

I stood and stretched one last time before falling in step, moving through the corridor as the crew came alive. Voices murmured back and forth. Gear clanked. The familiar rhythm of preparation settled over the ship.

For the first time in a long while, I felt something close to excitement.

As I made my way through the maintenance corridor toward the hangar bay, I noticed someone jogging up from the side, a man in his early thirties, a bit soft around the edges, curly brown hair bouncing with each step. He fell into stride beside me, friendly green eyes meeting mine as he matched my pace.

“Hey, I’m Henry Williams,” he said with a huff as he calmed his breathing. “Sorry, we didn’t get a chance to talk before launch.”

I returned the smile, adjusting my pace to let him fall in beside me. “No worries. We’ve all been neck-deep in prep.” Looking him over, I recognized his position: “Mechanic, right?”

“Yeah,” he said with a chuckle. “Non-stop work… well, until we launched, honestly, I was Glad for the breather.”

“I don’t know how you keep it all straight,” I said, glancing at the maze of metal around us. Pipes twisted overhead and snaked along the walls like mechanical veins. “This stuff looks like spaghetti made by a madman.”

Laughing, his eyes flicking across the bulkheads with something like fondness. “That? That’s the good stuff. Beautiful, actually. Every bit of it’s got a purpose. Those pipes over there?” He pointed. “They regulate coolant to the engine core. It keeps the heat in check so we don’t end up as dust. And those vents? Environmental control. Keeps the air breathable, and temperature livable.”

I raised an eyebrow. “All that from just… pipes?”

He grinned. “You’d be surprised. Engineering’s all about connections. You miss one, the whole thing just… well, I guess you get the gist of it.”

I gave him a nod, the edges of a smile tugging at my lips. “Remind me not to piss off the guy keeping the ship from exploding.”

“You’d better not,” he said with a wink.

I gave a small smile. “Honestly, I'm surprised you can handle it.” from the list of people that were sent on this mission, they only really assigned Henry and one other to keep the ship in good shape. But I know it was mostly just him. The other Ella… a.. Adams. Ya, Adams, she was more for when we landed.

 “I can't imagine having all that work to do. Though I bet it helps to talk to others.” 

Henry’s smile faded a bit. “Well, kinda… I guess I had Owen and Benjamin to talk to, of course. Solid guys, don’t get me wrong, but not exactly the chatty type. Owen’s more of a ‘speak when it counts’ kind of guy. Real quiet one, but he's thoughtful.”

He paused, then chuckled. “Benjamin’s the opposite. He’s got this energy—like he’s already lived two lifetimes and is halfway through a third. You know, Calm and wise, not in a pretentious way, just… grounded. But neither of them really talks much. So I end up talking to myself a lot.”

I tilted my head. “Who are they again? Sorry, I was in cryo most of the trip.”

Henry waved a hand. “Oh—yeah, right. Makes sense. Owen’s the younger guy, maybe twenty or so. Slim build, dark brown hair that always looks like he just got out of bed. He has that absent-minded genius vibe… and his Cyan eyes…” he seemed to have lost thought. 

Raising a brow at the strange reaction, I just stared at him

Raising his hands in defense, he explained. “Hey, once you talk to him, you'll see what I mean. It's almost like he talks through his eyes.” 

Not spending a second more on the topic, he shifted to Benjamin.

“And Benjamin,” he continued, “he’s the older one. Sixties, I think? Hair’s black and white, tied in this neat little bun, always has this no-nonsense expression like he’s already solved the problem you’re about to bring him. His eyes are brown, kind of like yours, actually.”

“Wow,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “You remember quite a lot of details.”

Henry gave a modest shrug. “It comes with the job. If one bolt is off, the system fails. The same principle applies to people; you start noticing the little things. That’s what keeps us alive, really.”

He hesitated for a second, then added, “Benjamin’s the one who woke you, right? From cryo?”

“Yeah,” I said slowly, the memory flickering back. “He did my inspection, checked vitals, and made sure I was all there. Didn’t talk much, but… yeah, doctor vibes.”

“Yep, that’s him.” Henry stepped ahead and pressed the panel, opening the hangar doors with a soft hydraulic hiss.

“Well, nice to officially meet you,” I said as I passed, offering a quick grin over my shoulder.

“Same,” he called back.

I jogged down the steps, eager now. The hum of the hangar felt alive—crew checking systems, gear stations lit and prepped, boots echoing across the metal floor. I moved straight to my station. My name was engraved in the metal above the station in clean black print.

“Atlas Mercer”

And below it, my exoskeleton waited, its dark silver frame catching the low light with a muted sheen. It wasn’t bulky, but there was weight to it with every joint and plate built with purpose rather than style. I ran a hand along the cold metal before stepping inside, the harness adjusting automatically as it came to life.

The servos clicked and whirred, one by one, until the whole frame settled against me like a second skin. A faint hum ran through the spine, a soft vibration that synced to the rhythm of my breathing. By the time it finished calibrating, the arms felt less like a machine and more like an extension of my own body.

Then came the suit.

Armored plates over reinforced mesh, featuring a matte black finish with silver trim. Tough, flexible, and built for warzones we hoped we wouldn’t see. I secured the buckles one by one, each strap pulling the weight closer to my frame. Once I disconnected from the wall, the servos in the exoskeleton kicked in with a low mechanical hum, syncing to my movements like muscle memory.

The gauntlets snapped into place around my hands. I flexed my fingers. Smooth. No resistance. Like a much stronger extension of me, steadier, and far more forgiving in zero-G or high-G situations.

Chest plate next. It locked in with a heavy thud, and a soft pulse ran through the interior lining as the suit's internal systems powered on.

Then the helmet.

Its visor caught my reflection for a split second before I slid it on with a Hiss. The seal engaged, locking into place with a finality I’d come to associate with these types of missions. Once the HUD came alive, all sorts of data flooded my vision from vitals, orientation, suit integrity, and atmospheric readings. 

One last step.

The rifle waited for me on the wall rack, its dark silver edges promising death. A pulse rifle, compact enough for close quarters, powerful enough to tear through hardened armor if needed. Grabbing it with both hands, I test its balance, and once it was all good. I reached around to my back and secured it in place as the magnetic lock took effect.

Right on cue, Amelia’s voice crackled into my ear, distorted just slightly by the comms.

"Alright," she breathed, "I’m going to go through our mission once again for those who didn’t pay attention last time."

My eyes drifted to the left, where Ethan Mitchell stood.

He was still getting into his suit, and I say “getting into” loosely. More like dragging himself through it, one lazy strap at a time. The guy looked like he’d just rolled out of bed with his hair a tangled mess, beard unkempt, eyes half-lidded like he hadn’t slept since Earth.

His exoskeleton hung loosely off one shoulder before he finally caught it with a grunt and muttered something under his breath. Didn’t look like he had any urgency, or interest, for that matter.

I shook my head. How did he get picked for this?

Amelia must’ve noticed too. Her gaze lingered on him for a few seconds before she returned to the task at hand.

“Listen up, everyone,” Amelia continued, sliding her visor up so her voice carried across the hangar without the filter of comms.

Her tone sliced through the low murmur like a scalpel.

“As you all know, Colony Alpha, our first-wave exploratory site, went dark three weeks ago. No distress signal, no communications. Just silence.”

The hanger went still as everyone gave her all their attention.

“Our mission is to descend, assess the situation, and report back. No heroics. No deviation. We’ve already completed part one, arrival and landing. Now comes the hard part.”

“Hey, Captain,” a voice came through the comms, hesitant but curious. “I heard we’re going to be splitting into teams. Mind if I ask why?”

It was Ella.

From what I knew, she was one of the mission’s engineers, and supposedly some kind of scientific prodigy. I’d heard rumors about a Nobel Prize, though I never checked if that was true. Science wasn't exactly my area of interest, but even I could recognize someone with that kind of reputation.

Still, it wasn’t just her credentials that stood out. She carried herself with a quiet kind of confidence that only accentuated her features, from her light brown hair, neatly tucked into her helmet, to her eyes like pale ice, sharp and steady. She looked a few years older than me, but not by much. Fit, focused, and easy to talk to. The kind of person who left an impression without ever trying. Probably part of why she’d been chosen for this mission in the first place.

Amelia didn’t miss a beat.

“The colony spans roughly 4.6 miles in every direction,” she replied, her voice unwavering. “There are no signs of life on record. So if we’re going to find anything, we need to cover more ground. Splitting up is the fastest way to do that.”

“Since that’s settled,” she continued, “I’ll be assigning teams now. Atlas Mercer and Henry Williams–you’re together.” Her gaze flicked to me, and then to Henry, who offered a quick nod through his visor.

“Once we breach the perimeter, your job is to inspect the life support systems. Ella Adams, Emily Carter, and I will handle the western sector. Dr. Benjamin, Owen Simmons, and Ethan Mitchell, you’ll take the east.”

With that, no one had any more questions.

“Finish getting suited up,” Amelia concluded, the finality in her voice leaving no room for delay.