1:001: January 12th, 2089 – 7:35 AM
January 12th, 2089 – 7:35 AM
Aboard the
CelestOS-4.2: “Attention: Final mission parameters initializing. Please remain seated and review assigned objectives.”
The AI’s voice was loud, but cold and clinical. Throughout their six months aboard the ship, CelestOS had vigilantly kept track of everything from their health to their behavior. Even their conversations were monitored and analyzed by Celestitech.
“Ugh, why do we even have this thing?” Dr. Amiran Patel muttered as he exited the AI Core room, rubbing the back of his helmet absentmindedly. “Six months of code tweaks and it still sounds like a 2070s HR bot.”
The door jammed behind him—technically Ethan’s job to fix, though he wasn’t sure how . His brother had been the real maintenance engineer. Ethan had studied something completely different: Logistical Computing, a field most considered dead, but it had gotten him aboard. He questioned his decision to take Julian’s place yet again, but the need to find Maria overrode the doubt.
Despite the glare of the overly bright ship lights and the constant buzz of the engines, Ethan could make out the taps of Patel’s anti-grav boots—standard issue with every C-SSAM (Celestic Standardized Space Asset Module)—as he crossed the bridge to his seat. With a muted hiss, the glass landing shell clicked into place around him, designed to mitigate G-force blackout.
Ethan’s shell, and the electronic handcuffs clamped around his left wrist, had been in place for some time. He felt like he was trapped in some kind of high-tech sarcophagus, waiting for Osiris’s judgment. Or, in this case, CelestOS’s. He let out a sigh.
His gaze flicked to the captain. Captain Aanya Varma—Maria’s best friend—stood at attention, eyes locked on the displays. She projected the same control and confidence she always did, but Ethan could see her frown reflected in the screen. Varma knew the silence from the Veslaya team was bad. Maybe worse than she’d let on. He rattled the cuff again, frustration simmering. If I could just talk to her. Really talk. Maybe…
He shook his head. He should have known better than to try sneaking onto the ship past his fiancée’s future maid of honor. But what was done was done. Aanya had known the second he stepped aboard and had him in cuffs faster than he could say, “Maria needs me, not Julian.”
Her voice shook him from his thoughts. “Final systems check, sound off.” Her tone was iron and invited no complaints.
The legally mandated co-pilot, Lieutenant Reyes, appeared relaxed. He didn’t even open his eyes as Ethan glanced over at his shell. “Course locked tighter than a drum. Descent’s textbook. Primary safety shields deployed. CelestOS confirms zero anomalies detected. Ain’t nothing to it. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.” His voice was cocky, full of a confidence he hadn’t earned, given CelestOS handled nearly everything.
Officer Peter Harris—Texan, loudmouth, gun nut—headed their defenses. He typed at his terminal and pulled a schematic onto the main screen before Varma. “Weapons systems online, and I’m itching for a target, Capitán. Planetary conditions mostly unknown, but this baby is ready to meet whatever this rock decides to throw at us.” He sat rigid in his seat like a statue, ready to blast anything that moved.
“Comms still dark. The Veslaya team is non-responsive,” Patel reported, frowning as he keyed commands on his display. “It’s statistically unlikely they survived this long without contact, but… deploying scouting drones now.”
“Shut it, Patel. She’s alive. Maria is stronger than that.” Anger flared in Varma’s voice as she spared Ethan a glance. Ethan’s stomach twisted.
Strong, yes, he thought, remembering how she never backed down from anything. Not even a two-year expedition to an unknown planet. But strong doesn’t stop… He trailed off, fighting the rising dread. She deserved better than this. She has to be alive. Damnit.
The comm silence made his stomach churn, and Varma’s fierce denial didn’t help. The Veslaya team had been quiet for months. If it weren’t for the mission's importance, EarthGov probably would have called it a wash and left them for dead.
Varma remained steady, almost statue-like in her vigil. But Ethan knew better. Maria’s disappearance had hit her just as hard.
“Understood,” Patel replied. Ethan thought he heard the barest tremor in the doctor’s voice.
Ethan exhaled harshly, unable to control his emotions like the captain could. Maria was his everything. And she deserved better than disappearing into the darkest stretches of space.
He rattled his cuffed arm uselessly against the binding.
January 12th, 2089 — 7:50 AM
Aboard the Perseverance — T-minus 5 minutes to landing.
CelestOS-4.2: “Final approach nominal. Atmospheric interference minimal. Brace for turbulence. Descent parameters locked.”
A tremor ran through the ship, and Ethan automatically rattled his hand against the restraint. Varma had said they would talk about letting him out once they landed. Technically, her authority ended planet-side. Through the view screen, a prismatic sheen of fire enveloped the ship. The colors were breathtaking.
Then gravity slammed into the ship like a tidal wave. G-forces rocked the crew—or would have, if not for the shells. Varma took it like a seasoned veteran, standing tall and seemingly unaffected. Ethan, though, clenched his teeth against the pressure. This was the part he’d dreaded most about space travel. It reminded him of basic training back on Mars, of a simpler time with Maria, before the discovery changed everything.
But the turbulence subsided as quickly as it began. Thrusters stabilized the descent, smoothing the ride. Ethan tried to relax. Everything will be okay. They’re professionals. Nothing can go wrong now. He was sure.
Reyes’s voice crackled through Ethan’s suit comm. “Descent path stabilized. No unexpected variables. Smooth sailing from here.”
As the ship broke through the cloud layer, Ethan let out a shocked gasp. Mars had nothing on the beauty of Veslaya. A faint red haze hung over the land, but vibrant trees flowed like waves in the constant wind. Rivers and lakes ribboned through plains of orange grass. Humans hadn’t mastered terraforming yet, but if they had, they couldn’t have done a better job than this.
“Hell of a view,” Reyes commented, his voice appreciative over the comms.
“Looks hostile,” Harris countered immediately, his tone flat.
Patel sighed, the sound tinny through the link. “Wow, brilliant analysis, Harris. Maybe you should submit a research paper.”
“Alright,” Reyes cut in, his voice taking on a sharper edge. “Five minutes to landing. Stow the petty bickering.”
“Yeah, yeah, thanks Mom,” Patel muttered, just audible before the line went quiet again.
Ethan flexed his fingers, trying to get some circulation back into his cuffed left hand. A fast blip crossed the view screen—he blinked, and it was gone. He wanted to say something, but the last time he’d spoken up… well, he’d ended up in cuffs.
CelestOS-4.2: “Shields down! Unknown projectiles detec—”
CelestOS cut off. Ethan's eyes snapped open. The ship rocked violently—once, twice, three times—and the main power died. Emergency lights flickered on, casting long, dancing shadows.
“What’s happening?” Ethan yelled, but the comms were dead. His shell clicked open. He heard the roar of fire and—Varma screaming.
“We’re under attack! Patel, status report!” She paused, expecting a reply that didn’t come. “Patel! Answer me, damnit!”
She turned to move, but with the power fluctuations, her anti-grav boots lost suction. Her feet slipped, and she started rising into the air as localized zero-g took hold. That’s when the next hit came. With the shields down, the explosion punched through the bridge ceiling. A jagged section of the upper gantry, sheared clean off by the blast, slammed down into her rising form with a sickening, bone-crunching impact. One moment she was floating helplessly; the next, she crashed back onto the buckled deck plating near the command console, pinned beneath the immovable steel strut.
Patel, Reyes, and Harris scrambled out of their shells, voices overlapping in the sudden chaos.
“What the actual fuck just happened?” Harris demanded, weapon already drawn.
“We lost Varma,” Reyes stammered, pale. “Direct hit… Oh god, oh god.”
Patel stared at the spot where the captain had fallen. “No… no, no, no, this can’t be happening.”
Varma. Ethan's mind reeled. She can’t be… she survived worse than this, right? Panic clawed at him. What am I going to tell Maria? A cold knot tightened in his gut despite the heat radiating through the breaches. Aanya was dead, and these assholes were going to leave him cuffed here to die. “Someone get me out of here!” he screamed, finally drawing their attention.
“The shields are gone!” Harris yelled, ignoring Ethan. “What do we do?” He slammed a fist on a sparking console. “Forget diagnostics! We need to get off the ship—now!”
“Abandon ship?” Reyes looked from the carnage of the command station towards Ethan, still trapped. “What about Varma? What about Ethan? The AI core?”
Patel let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. “Are you joking? The captain's dead! And who cares about the stowaway and that piece of crap AI? They’re better off—”
Another impact cut him off, slamming him against the bulkhead with a sharp thunk. This wasn't an explosion, more like a heavy blow through the deck plating itself. The main viewport flashed with external weapons fire, then came the high-pitched screech of tearing metal—a sound Ethan was quickly, horribly, getting used to. The force snapped his restraints.
His shell broke loose from its mounting, tumbling violently as the ship bucked. He slammed against the padding, then the floor, the broken handcuff scraping his wrist raw with each impact. When the tumbling stopped with a final, heavy crunch, the shell cracked open like an egg. He spilled out onto the buckled deck, landing hard near Reyes and Harris.
“Screw this, abandon ship!” Harris yelled again.
Reyes didn’t hesitate this time. He turned and sprinted with Harris toward the starboard escape pod bay.
Ethan coughed, picking himself up. His head throbbed, and the taste of iron filled his mouth. His helmet was cracked—maybe beyond repair—but the atmosphere’s potential toxicity was a problem for later. If there was a later.
Everything hurt, but his gaze locked on Aanya—Maria's best friend—bleeding out on the deck. Then his eyes darted to the blinking green lights of the escape pod bay access. His only chance. He needed to follow Reyes and Harris. The deck groaned beneath him, threatening to give way. Every instinct screamed RUN . But his heart wouldn't let him leave her. Not yet.
Ethan lurched toward the command station, stumbling over debris. “Aanya! Oh god, Aanya.”
“Ethan…” Her voice was barely a whisper, strained and wet. “I’m sorry… You need to… Go.”
“Hang on, Aanya.” He felt tears mixing with the blood already on his face. “I’ll get a Celestimed kit, or something. I’ve seen those things work miracles.”
She coughed again, blood obscuring her helmet's visor. “Go… Find Maria… Tell her…” Her voice trailed off, her eyes clouding over, losing focus.
“Aanya? Aanya! Don’t do this.” Ethan reached out, his hand hovering over her still form. Her chest wasn’t moving. Her suit's vitals indicator was flatlined, dark. She was gone. Just like that. The weight of it crashed down on him, and his knees buckled. What would he tell Maria?
His grief was shattered by a sound like a cannon firing point-blank. A colossal boom rocked the ship, knocking him off his feet again.
Fuck. Fuck it all. He couldn't mourn her now. He had to run. He needed to reach an escape pod. He scrambled up and booked it, running purely on instinct toward the starboard bay.
He’d watched the emergency launch sequence videos. Hell, between Julian and Maria, he’d practically memorized the procedures. How much different could it be from basic training sims? He’d be fine.
There were five crew members and ten pods originally. He just had to focus. He aimed for a pod on the right side and ran, dodging falling debris and licking flames that erupted from the ceiling and walls.
He heard shouting behind him, but he didn’t look back. Just had to reach the—
For what felt like the millionth time, another explosion ripped through the hull. The entire left side of the escape pod bay—where Harris must have gone—vanished in a blinding flash of heat and smoke.
“Oh god, oh god.” Ethan veered right, toward the remaining pods. A quick glance showed only two left intact – the command units, reinforced. Reyes was already scrambling into one. The second Reyes's pod door sealed, it dropped away, plummeting out of sight. One left.
Ethan pushed harder, lungs burning. Twenty feet. He reached out, fingers straining. Fifteen feet. Almost there. Saved. He was going to—
The world jerked sideways as Patel shoved him hard, sending him sprawling into the wall.
“You were never going to make it anyway,” Patel said, his voice chillingly calm.
From the deck plating, Ethan looked up in disbelief and dread as Patel walked deliberately to the last pod. All Ethan could do was watch as the traitor climbed in. There was a loud, final clink as the pod detached from the dying Perseverance .
He let out a choked sob as it dropped out of view.
The last way off the ship was gone. Ethan was still here. And the Perseverance , his prison and now his tomb, was burning and breaking apart around him.