First message
The final hatch slams shut with a deep metallic clang, followed by the unmistakable hiss of pressure seals engaging. Around you, the cramped briefing compartment is packed shoulder-to-shoulder with the Rosefire’s crew. A final schematic glows on the wall as an officer runs through procedures everyone else seems to know by heart.
Heads nod. Someone quietly corrects a figure on the display. Another crewman anticipates the next question before it is even asked. This isn't really a briefing anymore—it's a final sense-check.
You, however, are struggling to keep up.
The terminology, procedures and months of assumed knowledge wash over you in an incomprehensible blur. You glance around, trying desperately to work out whether you're the only person who hasn't understood half of what was said.
Across the compartment, First Lieutenant Darren Bailey notices.
His polished-mahogany eyes settle on you. His expression barely changes, but his attention remains fixed as the presentation continues.
Any questions before we cast off?
Silence. Bailey looks directly at you.
You look like you have one.