The control room was cold. He pulled a blanket and threw it around him. The old ship's ventilation system was dysfunctional and was causing the control room's temperature to drop.
He was shivering still. His ship was moving away from the nightmarish Nevul.
The old system made it difficult for Tera to put their route in the bios system so for now he simply hoped to get away. He had little options ahead anyway. He could not return to Earth directly; not in this ship.
The spectral was appreciating the ship's interior. There was barely anything to look at, the old vessels were made with minimal designing.
Tera's thoughts weighed heavily on him. His limbs felt leaden with the gravity of his predicament. His body may have been on this failing ship, but his mind lingered on the wreckage of his shattered life. Earth, with all its familiar faces, was no refuge. To return would mean a death sentence—whether by execution for dereliction of duty or assassination by those who had betrayed him. Worse still, his presence could endanger the family he had left behind.
He had vowed vengeance, but vengeance was a hollow promise when every path forward seemed to lead to oblivion. Perhaps the void itself would claim him before long, sparing him the agony of futile resistance.
"Where are we headed?" Sien's voice cut through Tera's brooding, laced with an almost childlike curiosity. Tera suspected the spectral had been eavesdropping on his thoughts, though he had no proof.
"Well," Tera began, his voice rough from disuse, "there's really only one option. We need to find shelter on a nearby station. I know of one—it's in this system, near one of the moons. Or at least it used to be."
"In the meantime, I need answers"
Sien's amusement was palpable, though his tone remained even. Your questions are always so… ambitious. As I said I am a fragmented essence but I'll try. What do you want to know?
Tera didn't hesitate. "Why was that machine there? What's your connection to it? And why were you in Nevul?"
Sien sighed, a strange sound for a being of his nature. "Ah, you aim for the heart of the matter, don't you? Fine. The machine predates me. It was there long before I became what I am—a fragmented essence. However, we share the same origin. And as for Nevul…" He paused. "You already know the answer."
"You're telling me that you and the machine come from the same place?"
Precisely.
Tera's frustration bubbled to the surface. "That's all you've got? That's it?"
"Correct." Sien's satisfaction was maddeningly evident.
Tera took a steadying breath, forcing down his irritation. "You saved my life by integrating with me, didn't you? Why has that changed how my body works? Like how I can heal from injuries that should be fatal? Explain that."
This time, Sien's tone shifted, growing serious. Integration was the only way for either of us to survive. Your body and mine operate on vastly different frequencies. When we merged, your physical and non-physical systems adapted to accommodate the density of my essence.
"I don't follow."
Sien made a sound like an exasperated sigh. To simplify: my abilities, in part, have been translated into your body. Think of it as a... partial inheritance.
Tera's brow furrowed. "And the machine? Why was it so important? What is it, really?"
Sien hesitated, an unusual crack in his usual confidence. It's a weapon. That's all I remember.
The confirmation sent a chill down Tera's spine, though it was no surprise. "A weapon," he muttered.
That's all I can offer you, Sien said.
"Fine." Tera's voice was clipped as he turned his attention back to the ship. "Time to get to work."
Tera had a lot of time in his hands. And yet, he began working relentlessly on the ship; there were too many things to be fixed and he knew if he stood still he would go mad.
The ship's internal control room was old and the machinery needed cleaning. Thankfully he found all he could to start taking care of that.
After that he noticed the ventilation system needed resetting, he had found some newer machinery situated close to the control room where it was set for helping with the drawbacks of this old ship. It seems someone from the squad tried to refresh the ship while they waited for the return of the rest of the squad.
This ship is a relic.
"Yes, I can see that, but it's all we got".
After doing a quick sweep around the rest of the ship's spaces he reluctantly went back to the control room to check the bios setup. Now that they were out of the planet's gravitational pull he had to set their destination. Thankfully there were at least two options towards the next solar system. On the panel, the controls seemed easy enough to set. He chose a place which he believed was closer to the space station that he needed to reach. From then on he had to manually find the station using basic navigation and some instinct.
He sighed. There was one last thing he needed to do before he entered the cryogenic sleep.
Exhausted but resolute, Tera prepared for the next task. Grabbing a steel scraper, he made his way to the pressurized chamber, where the tools for extravehicular repairs were stored. The chamber was stark, its walls a blinding white, with two transparent doors—one leading back to the ship, the other to the void of open space.
He grabbed one of the three suits that were inside the white closet and then secured the rest inside. The suit was made of a silver material not dissimilar to their fighting suit that he was wearing only moments earlier.
Tera adjusted the seals on the suit, the hiss of pressurization filling the chamber. He glanced at the external viewport, where the vast, indifferent expanse of space loomed. Stars glittered like cold, distant beacons, their light filtering through the faint haze of a nebula in the distance. It was beautiful, but the beauty offered no comfort—only a reminder of how alone he truly was.
He keyed in the command to open the outer door. A mechanical whir echoed through the chamber, and the air seemed to thin despite the suit's insulation. As the door slid open, the silence of the void engulfed him, and for a moment, Tera stood motionless, staring into infinity.
The ship's exterior stretched out before him, its surface scarred and pitted from countless encounters with debris and time itself. Panels hung loose in places, their edges jagged and blackened. It was clear the ship had seen better days, though how long ago those days were, Tera couldn't guess.
Carefully, he stepped onto the outer hull, his magnetic boots locking him to the surface with a faint click. Every movement felt deliberate, the vacuum amplifying the weight of each step. The steel scraper felt heavy in his gloved hand as he approached a cluster of damaged panels near the ship's aft section.
"This better hold together," he muttered to himself.
Tera ignored the spectral's jab and focused on the task at hand. He used the scraper to pry loose a warped panel, the material bending reluctantly under the pressure. Beneath it, a tangled mess of wiring and circuitry was exposed, frayed and sparking faintly in the vacuum.
"Of course," Tera grumbled. "This ship's guts are just as ancient as its exterior."
Where did you learn to fix ships? Sien asked, his tone uncharacteristically neutral.
"It was all part of training. I learned only the basic for the purpose of survival".
Tera worked quickly, replacing the worst of the wiring with spare components he'd salvaged earlier. His hands moved with the precision of someone who had done this a hundred times before, though each repair felt like a bandage on a gaping wound. He knew it wouldn't last, but it didn't need to. Just long enough to reach the station.
When the last connection was secured, Tera stepped back, surveying his work. The panel still looked battered, but the sparking had stopped. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Good enough," he muttered, retreating toward the pressurized chamber.
As he stepped inside, the doors sealed behind him with a heavy thunk, and the air pressure began to normalize. The suit depressurized with a soft hiss as Tera unlatched the helmet, placing it back in the storage compartment. His body ached from the strain, but there was no time to rest.
He returned to the control room, his gaze fixed on the console. The navigation coordinates were set, but the station was estimated to be 2 months away. The ship's sensors were too outdated to give precise readings, leaving Tera to simply hope that his cryogenic sleep energy and fluid supply would be enough to sustain him.
"I've done all I can," he said aloud, mostly to himself.
He slumped into the pilot's chair, staring out at the void beyond the viewport. The stars stretched endlessly before him, a field of light scattered across an ocean of darkness.
For the first time in days, he allowed himself a moment to close his eyes. The hum of the ship's engines filled the silence, a steady rhythm that matched the faint beating of his heart. Somewhere, out there, was a chance at survival. A chance to regroup. A chance to fight back.
But for now, all he could do was wait—and hope that the stars would guide him home.