Space Crew -

The bickering was a comfort—a rhythm that proved they were still human in a place that wasn't meant for them. But the rhythm broke when a low, rhythmic thumping echoed through the hull. It wasn't the engine. It was coming from the airlock.

With a hiss of depressurization, the inner door slid open. There was no one there. Instead, the floor of the airlock was covered in a layer of fine, silver dust that began to swirl, forming shapes in the low gravity. The dust didn't attack; it drifted toward the comms console, illuminating the dark screens. Space Crew

Jax stood up, his face pale. "Every plate is tight, Kael. That sound... it’s external." The bickering was a comfort—a rhythm that proved

The Aurelia was held together by little more than hope and the engineer’s stubbornness. Kael, the pilot, stared at the navigation console as it flickered. They were three months into a deep-space salvage mission, and the silence of the void was starting to feel heavy. "Status check," Kael called out. It was coming from the airlock