The hum of the spaceship echoed faintly in the cold metal walls as Steven adjusted to his new reality. His body still felt foreign to him, like he hadn't quite settled into his own skin. He could hear the low murmur of conversation from the crew, but his mind was elsewhere.
This was real—no more void, no more ominous gods. He was now a part of Company, that demanded he steal from monsters and bring scrap back to the ship.
Steven glanced over at the man who had welcomed him earlier—the captain, a grizzled veteran of this strange organization. The captain's scars told stories Steven had no time to hear, but they said enough. This was a man who had seen things, survived them, and likely thrived on danger.
"Good morning," Steven said, his voice slightly hoarse from nerves.
The captain grunted in acknowledgment, his eyes briefly scanning Steven. "Steven, right? Fresh meat."
Steven gave a thin smile. "Seems that way."
"Don't worry," the captain said, though his tone lacked comfort. "You'll either die fast or you'll make it. Most of us don't have the luxury of thinking too far ahead."
Before Steven could respond, a loud alarm blared through the ship, its piercing sound making everyone in the room jump.
"Attention, crew," a calm yet robotic voice announced over the speakers. "Landing protocol initiated. We will be descending to the surface in two hours. Landing expected at 8:00 AM local time."
Steven's heart thudded in his chest as the ship seemed to rumble in response. He could feel the shift in the air, a subtle change as the vessel began preparing for descent. The pilot, a wiry man with sharp eyes and steady hands, turned to the console and flicked a few switches.
"Landing gear engaged," Doug, the pilot, muttered to himself as he adjusted his headset and scanned the instruments. The ship responded with a soft, mechanical whir, its stabilizers shifting into position for their descent.
Steven stood up, feeling the slight tilt of the ship as it adjusted its trajectory. His eyes drifted toward the front of the small ship, where the main control area lay. It was cramped but functional, designed more for efficiency than comfort. The front panel had seven small screens lined up, along with one larger central screen. Each display flickered with different information, each one more unsettling than the last.
On one of the smaller screens, Steven saw the cold, unforgiving numbers: Quota: 0/130. His stomach dropped. The task ahead of him felt more real than ever. Thirty quotas. Three days to complete each. It felt like staring up at a mountain, unsure if he had the strength to even begin the climb.
Another screen displayed the countdown: Days till deadline: 3. The reminder was stark, counting down his life in cold digits. Steven's eyes flicked to another screen. It was 5:54 AM—the time ticking steadily forward as they approached their first mission.
The remaining four small screens all showed the same reassuring yet ominous words: Life Support: Online. Steven could only guess how fragile that state would become once they hit the ground.
But it was the large screen that drew his attention next. Displayed on it was a detailed heatmap, with different colors representing the world and something? The map was centered around the captain, as if it were a sonar and he was the focal point, his body glowing in a dull orange hue against the darker blues and greens of the surrounding environment. Steven wasn't sure what the map was tracking exactly, but it looked important.
As he stared at the screens, the knowledge he had chosen—Information of all monsters—suddenly surged into his mind. It was overwhelming, like someone had dumped an entire encyclopedia into his brain all at once. Steven winced, gripping the back of a nearby shelf as the names and descriptions of creatures flashed before his eyes.
Steven blinked rapidly, trying to focus as the flood of information settled into his consciousness. It was a strange sensation—having this knowledge embedded in him—but it made him feel more prepared, even if only slightly. He could recall the weaknesses, the patterns, the dangers of each monster as if he had been studying them for years, but it seemed blurry, like he did know, but it was locked away, waiting for a trigger to open it.
The rest of the crew seemed unfazed by the announcement or the landing preparations. They were focused on their tasks, moving with a sense of routine that came from years of experience... That came from somewhere.
Steven had no such luxury. He quickly donned the radiation suit that had been placed near his seat, following the others' lead. The suit felt heavy and stiff, but the material was designed for protection against whatever toxic elements the planet might throw at them.
He looked around for any gear, a knife, a sword, a gun, anything really, but the only articles of clothing were the radiation suits and the only tools were the backpack he wore.
Doug, the pilot, was seated at the controls, his hands expertly guiding the ship toward their descent. Steven moved to stand beside him, trying to shake off the anxiety gnawing at his gut. Doug glanced at him briefly, then turned his attention back to the controls.
"Nervous?" Doug asked without looking away from the console.
Steven nodded, then realized Doug couldn't see him. "A little. I've never... done anything like this before."
Doug snorted, his fingers dancing across the controls with ease. "No one has when they first start. Don't worry, we've all been through it. It's not as bad as you think."
Steven raised an eyebrow. "You mean the monsters?"
Doug gave a lopsided grin, though his eyes never left the instruments. "No. I mean the landing. The monsters? They're worse than anything you've imagined."
Steven chuckled dryly, though it did little to ease the tightness in his chest. He glanced at Doug's hands, steady and sure as he worked the controls. "You've been doing this a long time, I take it?"
Doug nodded. "I've been a ship pilot for about five years now. I've seen my share of new blood come through, some space pirates, but at this company, it is all of our first day. We call you rookie, because you're the only one between me, Captain Sigurt, and Private Lalo who hasn't been on a space voyage before. In this field of work, you either make it or you don't. Most don't. But the trick is keeping your head straight. Panic kills faster than any space pirate or monster down there."
Steven swallowed, appreciating the advice, even if it didn't exactly inspire confidence. He opened his mouth to ask more, but before he could get the words out, a sudden, sharp thud reverberated through the ship.
Doug's expression tightened. "We're landing."
The ship lurched slightly, the sound of hydraulic systems engaging as they touched down on the planet's surface. Steven could feel the atmosphere change—heavier, more oppressive. The air in the ship seemed to thicken, and the hum of the engines quieted.
The captain stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with that same hard-edged determination. He raised a hand, signaling to the crew. "Suits on tight. We've got a planet to loot."
Steven took a deep breath, his hands tightening around the straps of his radiation suit. He has his badge minimum equipment and could feel it, it was almost instinct, they weren't remotely well equipped enough to be doing whatever they were doing.