Pressure Threshold

by dissapointment_666

Summary:

The Aurora was supposed to be just another ship, another mission, another day in deep space. That all changed when it fell.

Now, seven survivors are stranded on an ocean planet, surrounded by alien waters teeming with life—some wondrous, some monstrous. With no way home, no rescue on the horizon, and the rules of their own biology beginning to shift, the crew must fight to survive.

But the deeper they go, the more they change.

Somewhere beneath the waves, something is waiting. Watching. Calling.

And the deeper they dive, the harder it is to remember what it means to be human.

Chapter 1: CR-4546B-001: Planetfall Protocol Breach

Personnel File: Thomas "TommyInnit" Simons
ID Number : AI-2491-TIS
Age : 19
Occupation : Electrician Technician
Department : Engineering
Status: Active

Likes : Video games, pranks, spicy food, memes, chaos
Dislikes : Boredom, being underestimated, repetitive tasks, losing challenges
Personality Traits : Energetic, mischievous, impulsive, loves to joke around
Medical Notes : Generally healthy, occasional stress-related symptoms during high-pressure situations
Background : Hailing from the UK, Tommy is a young prodigy in electrical systems with a knack for unconventional solutions. He has a talent for keeping systems running, even under pressure. Despite his playful nature, he’s known for being surprisingly efficient in times of crisis.
Education:

• High School: "Lancashire Technical Institute"
• University: "Oxford College of Technology"

Usefulness (Captain's Assessment):

• Electrical Systems Stability: High – Excellent under pressure; fast response time to system failures.
• Efficiency in Crisis: High – Effective at keeping systems running when required.
• Interpersonal Skills: Moderate – Sociable but needs oversight to stay focused during critical tasks.

 

---

 

The alarms were screaming.

Tommy jolted awake, chest tight with the kind of panic that only came from knowing, deep down, that something was terribly, irreversibly wrong. His cabin was shaking, the emergency lights flashing in harsh, panicked bursts, painting the walls in streaks of red and shadow.

For half a second, he thought it was some kind of drill. A malfunction. Something stupid that’d be resolved before he even had to roll out of bed. Then the ship lurched, metal shrieking, gravity slamming him sideways into the wall hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

The Aurora was falling.

Somewhere down the hall, he could hear shouting, overlapping voices, panicked orders, the desperate crackle of the ship’s comms cutting in and out. The emergency evacuation lights flickered on in quick pulses, barely illuminating the chaos outside his cabin door. The floor tilted again, sending a mug from his desk clattering to the ground. It shattered, sharp fragments scattering around his boots as he struggled to keep his balance.

Through the pounding in his ears, a single voice rang clear through the comms:

"All crew to escape pods. Repeat, all crew to escape pods. Impact imminent.”

Tommy sucked in a breath. His hands were shaking, his head spinning, but he shoved it down, forcing himself to move. His fingers slammed against the emergency release on his door, nearly tripping as it hissed open. The hallway was filled with flashing lights and smoke, the scent of burning wires thick in the air.

The Aurora groaned, metal twisting like the ship itself was in pain.

Tommy glanced back, hesitating. His mind raced with all of the protocols and information shoved down his throat when he first joined Alterra.

Go bag, evac group, escape. 

Tommy repeated the words, speaking them into the chaos like a mantra. Something, anything to keep him grounded as everything fought to break his concentration. Tommy raced around his room, slamming into the bolted desk as the ship lurched again, gathering his entire life into a tiny duffel bag. 

With no spared glance, Tommy left the room. He raced down the twisting corridors, tripping on his feet and pushing off of the walls to take the corners faster.

Is Tubbo ok? 

 

He blinked, and narrowed his eyes. That was a problem for future-Tommy to worry about. Right now, the only thing Tommy could spare brain power for was survival. Tommy rounded the final hallway, and thanked whatever lords above that he had clipped his badge to the pocket of his issued jumpsuit. Tommy's fingers shook as he slapped the card against the reader. 

 

Go bag, evac group, escape.

The door stayed firmly shut, and the reader blinked a red light, prompting a re-scan.

“NO, NO NO YOU BITCH!” Tommy screamed, and jammed his card into the reader again, throwing the entire weight of his body against the bulkhead. He brought his fist down onto the door, growling at the metal, cursing it and whoever created the damn reader. 

 

Finally, after what felt like far too long, the reader chimed. The Aurora’s metal frame The shook, defying all logic of gravity and space, and the hallway plunged into darkness. The reader illuminated Tommy's terrified face, and the door slid open slowly with a hiss of hydraulics.

Tommy didn't wait for the door to open, and forced himself through the gap, sucking his stomach in and praying it would work. He burst through the door, and in a single blink Tommy found himself on the cool floor of the escape chamber. Tommy hoisted himself up, and with a glance around the room he saw nobody else. The pod bays, usually filled with twenty five escape pods, was almost barren. Two pods remained; number 14, Tommy’s pod, set into the wall like it always had been.

 

And twenty two. 

 

Tubbo’s pod.

Tommy's body was shot with an icy chill, but he ran to pod 14. The door, left open for emergencies, closed the second Tommy was over the threshold. He whipped around, duffel falling to the floor to face the closed door. A hand slammed on the glass, and someone shouted through the reinforced metal.

“Please! Don’t leave without me!” A terrified woman stood on the stoop of the pod, tears streaking down her face and a frantic look in her eyes. Tommy recognized those eyes, the eyes of Abigail, his unit head. She was barely older than Tommy, with an expecting wife back on earth. Tommy, mind already shot from the chaos, was filled with dread. Him and Abigail bonded over their shared love of lemony sweets and dogs. 

 

“Wait! Pod, open door!” Tommy yelped the command at the pod’s AI system, and covered Abigail's over the glass. A tear slipped out of his eye, joining the mess of tears and snot on his face. The reality of what was happening crashed into Tommy. He wished it was just a bad dream, too much trazodone to cause a vivid dream of his nightmares. 

 

“Unable to fulfill request at this time. Initializing drop down procedure.”

The frustratingly pleasant voice filled Tommy’s head, sinking into his gut like a lead ball. Tommy himself had worked on this pod, trying to undo the damage to the door system before a disaster struck. But he never finished, nobody on his team thinking anything would happen. The pod's lights turned red, starting the final phase of the detachment. Tommy hung his head, not able to see the fear in Abigail's eyes any longer.

He withdrew his hand, and blocked out the cries and pleadings of Abigail. Strapping into his seat was easy, practiced hundreds of times when he needed a harness for zero-g repairs.

“Life pod, fourteen, drop down procedure starting now. One lifeform detected.”

The voice felt like a tease, dangling the power to save his unit before ripping it out of his hands. The pod shook, and the sound of hissing clamps drowned out the voices in Tommy’s head. Without any ceremony the pod dropped, leaving Tommy’s stomach doing flips. The tiny window framed the Aurora in all her glory amidst the inky black of space.

Then a beam of green light burnt across Tommy’s eyes, and he clenched his eyes tight. The pod grew impossibly warmer, and it began to shake with the force of re-entry. Tommy opened his eyes at a metallic clang and he saw a fire extinguisher, loosened from its restraints, fly through the tiny pod. With a ricochet, the tube of metal flew across the room.

Directly into Tommy’s temple.

 

---

“Hi! My name is Toby! Nice to meet you!” 

 

There was a young man in front of Tom, with a wide grin, messy brunette hair, and bright eyes. He stuck his hand out, breaching the gap between them with a single movement. Tom swallowed, shuffled his drink and welcome packet to one hand, and clasped Toby’s with the other. 

 

“Nice to meet you man, I’m Tom! Are you in electrics?” The man released their firm grip, and stuck his hands in the pockets of his pants. He was dressed nicely, shiny black boots, dressy pants, and a pressed button up. But there was a youthful shine from Toby, who’s top buttons were unbuttoned, and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

 

“No, I’m in robotics. But those are both engineering, so we aren’t in totally separate sections.”

 

“Oh I almost went into robotics! But alas, I am dazzled by the allure of electricity. Tis’ a noble profession, my dear boy.” Tom lifted his head at the end of his speech, having dropped it to enunciate his dramatic words. Toby snorted, a bit of water shooting out of his nose at the action.

 

“Oh god man, it’s coming out of my nose!” 

 

Tom’s resulting laughter drew eyes from the crowd, but the pair paid no mind. There could be twenty new crew mixers happening in the background, nothing would crack the budding bond between the boys. 

 

The night drew on, and Tom and Toby got on like a house on fire. Tom learned that Toby was twenty one, freshly graduated from university, had a way with numbers but almost comically intense dyslexia, and had never gone to space before. Toby’s eyes grew wide and genuinely sparkled when Tom shared his memories of growing up on a ship, with his mothers job needing them to move planets every few years.

 

Nothing could break that bond.

 

---

 

Tommy was sweating.

Like waking up from a fever as a kid, he felt choked with heat. It was hard for him to breathe almost, and he swiped his hand over his face. 

 

Wait. 

 

He couldn't move his arm. 

 

There was smoke in the air.

Tommy couldn't breathe .

 

His eyes shot open, and the world was chaos. Chaos that Tommy thrived in. With a single look, Tommy took in the sparking control panel, the shattered display screen, the flicking tongues of fire at his feet. Tommy sucked in a breath and held it. With one hand he reached up to unbuckle his harness, and the other he reached to the discarded fire extinguisher. In a fluid move he dropped to the warming floor, swung his arm to sweep the extinguisher to his chest. 

 

He fumbled a moment with the trigger and pin, but soon the fire was gone. Tommy stood up, hit with a wave of vertigo that made his body spin, and looked around the no longer on fire lifepod. The floor was covered in a thin sheet of foam, but it was already turning to liquid and running into puddles. 

 

The pod was silent, save for a soft beeping from the shattered control panel. The reality of the situation crashed into Tommy, his legs going weak and bile rising in his throat. With trembling fingers, he hoisted himself up the ladder. The window was covered in soot, and the seal was hard to break. With a shove, the hatch hissed open, letting cool air wash over Tommy’s face.

The sun was bright, with an endless blue sky that stretched forever. Tommy winced at the bright light, and rubbed his eyes as he stood up on the life pod. Once his eyes adjusted, he looked at his landing site.

 

It was water. 

 

Endless water. 

 

There was nothing but water and sky, looking so earth-like it caused Tommy to blink away tears. But here and there, the illusion broke. Two large planets were visible behind the sky, and moving quick enough to track the progress by eye. Not wasting a second more, Tommy turned around, trying to locate another lifepod or landmass to regroup at. 

 

The Aurora was destroyed. 

 

Tommy threw up into the water. 

Chapter 2: CR-4546B-002: Unconfirmed Survivors Located

Summary:

Not beta read, must throw words at screen

Personnel File: Tobias "Tubbo" Smith
ID Number : AI-5732-TSM
Age : 21
Occupation : Robotics Technician
Department : Engineering
Status: Active

Likes : Engineering, nature, music, friendship, animals
Dislikes : Recklessness, threats to his friends, failure
Personality Traits : Kind, empathetic, patient, loves to help others
Medical Notes : No significant medical issues, slight tendency to stress under pressure
Background : Tubbo, a skilled robotics technician, is known for his precision and care in developing and maintaining robotic systems. A deep thinker, he balances a love of technology with a strong sense of responsibility toward his teammates and their safety.
Education:

• High School: "Riverside Academy"
• University: "Brighton Institute of Technology"

Usefulness (Captain's Assessment):

• Robotic Systems Maintenance: High – Precise, effective in maintaining and repairing robotic systems.
• Crisis Management: Moderate – Good under pressure but requires guidance in high-stress scenarios.
• Team Cooperation: High – Acts as a calm and reliable team member, especially in technical situations.

---

There was an alarm going off somewhere. 

 

Tubbo’s head pounded. 

 

Lifting his head, Tubbo spat out the bile in his mouth, and cradled his ringing ears. Blood painted the tips of his fingers when he drew them back, and his heart dropped. Tubbo hoped it was just a concussion, as his medical knowledge was extremely shallow, opting to learn more about robots than people in university.

Tubbo was slow to take in anything else, the smell of burning plastic and the alarm digging spikes into his skull dulled the rest of his senses. Tubbo had no idea how long it had been from the crash, everything had been too chaotic to have any good gauge of time. He remembered the first strike, the alarms going off as he scrambled out of the repair rig. 

 

There were also the bodies, and Lucas. The way his eyes rolled when tubbo swung the wrench-

 

Tubbo blinked hard, swallowing the memory. It was survival mode, and Tubbo had to leave feelings outside to have any chance to live. The lifepod was leaning, leaving Tubbo almost standing on the roof when upright.

“Fuck.” Tubbo had nothing . He was nowhere near his room when the ship fell, as Tubbo chose to work on a faulty PRAWN suit to have something to do before retiring for the night. He was left escaping in his work uniform, Cargo pants, compression shirt and gloves, and the standard Alterra zip up. The only med kit had a few strips of gauze, which Tubbo affixed around his head to help with the bleeding.

The gauze being a placebo for Tubbo to not hurt as much was nice too.

 

Tubbo dug in his pockets, removing the items he found. There was a handful of micro-drill bits, a square of nutrient block, and a hair tie. Tubbo sighed, tied his shag of brunette hair up, and set his sights on the lifepod control panel. Tubbo pulled up the diagnostics screen, and buried himself in the exposed wiring under the screen. The self-stabilizing hydraulics was a simple fix, just re-attaching the fallen fuse to its spot. A quick command to reset the system, and the pod re-stabilised to upright.

The movement of the pod caught Tubbo by surprise, and he tumbled to the floor, hard. He breathed out, fed up with the pain and feeling claustrophobic. The pod was still rebooting the screen, lights off in the reset. The light poured in from the hatch, causing Tubbos head to pound even harder than before. He stepped up the ladder, wincing from the light. 

 

Standing up, he saw the ruined hull of Aurora’s bow, the ship creaking and groaning in the short distance.

 

And promptly dropped back into the life pod. 

 

There were far too many emotions for Survival mode right now. Fighting back the mounting despair, Tubbo inspected the radio. The radio was fine, and came to life the moment he touched the screen. The screen booted in rescue mode, and Tubbo was a single fingerprint away from sending a message to every life pod in the network. 

 

The message is sent without much fanfare and Tubbo lets out the breath he didn't realise he was holding. He turns, eyeing himself in the glossy metal. Messy hair, tired eyes, trails of dried blood on his neck, and what looks like a blown pupil. Tubbo groans, and rubs his face.

 

“I guess I can fix the fabricator, right?”

Tubbos reflection says nothing.

 

The fabricator is a mess, it looks as if something melted the outer casing, leaving twisted plastic over the metal frame. The casing comes off quickly, exposing the wiring and innards of the fabricator. Burnt plastic assaulted Tubbo’s nose and the shards of melted plastic pricked his fingers. Tubbo dug into the mess, isolating a blown chip and removing it before any further damage was done.

Despite searching the whole pod, there was no extra chip to be found. The fabricator wouldnt function without it, and tubbo wasn't sure if he could guarantee his survival without a fabricator. He eyed the radio, perhaps he could steal some of the microchips and jury rig them into a chip the fabricator would take.

“Incoming distress call.”

Tubbo flinched, the robotic voice of the rado echoing around the room and sending hammers into his brain. He leapt to his feet, broken chip discarded and heart racing in his ears. Tubbo gingerly pressed the receiver, eager to hear someone else, someone who survived.

“This is lifepod nine, Phillip Watson attempting communication with any surviving life pods. If your radio is working, please respond. I repeat, if your radio is working, please respond.” 

 

Tubbo could cry. His emotions were crashing, and hearing Phil in the crackly, tinny radio sounded like heaven. Shaking fingers un-muted the receiver, and tubbo spoke into the built-in microphone.

“Lifepod twenty two, Tubbo! I-Im Tubbo, Toby Smith. Phil, my screen is rebooting, do you have eyes on online pods? Over?” Tubbo crossed his fingers, thinking of every small thing that could be wrong with the radio, mind going haywire with what-ifs.

 

“Oh thank the lord, Tubbo. You’re the only person to respond at the moment, so the other coordinates aren't logged. But you're not that far from me, it looks to be about 280 meters. I don't know how much you've seen from the outside, but I think I can see your pod from mine. Over.” Phil’s voice washed over Tubbo like a blanket, calming his nerves. Mentally he calculated his percentage of survival, which was considerably higher with Phil in the loop now. 

 

“I'm going to make a swim for it, then.” The words tumbled out of his mouth without thought. Tubbo scrambled to explain himself as the half baked plan formed in his mind. 

 

“Yeah, I'll go through the bottom hatch so I don't have to jump in and I can acclimate to the water. I've swam laps for fun, and it should only take me like 6 minutes to get there.” The radio was silent, and tubbo began preparing for his swim. He re-did his hair, securing the brunette strands firmly on the crown of his head, and swallowed the single nutrient square he had.

 

“Tubbo. Do not get into the water. We have no idea what might be in there. What bacteria, or parasites. Absolutely not. Over.” Tubbo glared, turning around to level his stare at the inanimate radio. He breathed out slowly, attempting to keep his temper in check and push back his headache.

“Sir, respectfully, I'm going to do it anyway. We cannot sit around waiting for someone to get us. We are at least a week's journey away from the nearest phase gate, so even if someone leaves today, they won't get here in time. In order to survive, we need to get in the water. There's no way for someone to fabricate a submersible without vehicle nanites, and it's not like we’re going to grow gills. I’ll see you in a few minutes. Over.” 

 

Tubbo’s gaze dropped, eyes locking with the inset hatch. The handle pulled smoothly and the water inside lapped at his feet like a playful swat. The water was surprisingly nice, cool to the touch but not frigid, something Tubbo was worried about. It smelt salty, but he wasn't particularly interested in ingesting water on an alien world to test it. With a deep breath in, Tubbo slipped under the waters edge. 

 

The water surrounded him with a cool embrace, like the silk sheets in his bunk back on the Aurora . Eyes shut tightly, he felt his way past the life pod, and broke the surface of the ocean, breathing air into straining lungs. Tubbo set his sights on the blurry blob in the distance, praying it was Phil’s pod and not a creature. He pushed off, setting a modest pace. Tubbo lost himself in the rhythm; kick-breathe-look, kick-breathe-look. His lungs burned and arms felt like paper by the time he hit metal, and he almost sobbed at the sight of Phil's hand lifting him out of the water.

“Hi mate. Let's get you warm, ok?” Tubbo nodded at the words, feeling himself process everything. Nausea and exhaustion hit all at once, and his eyes slipped shut. Tubbo felt his body be lifted, then lowered, and finally set on something slightly soft. A hand untied the soggy gauze round his ears, and he heard Phil hiss in sympathy.

“Fuck, I wish Kristin taught me more. Tubbo, open your eyes, please?” Tubbo wrenched his eyes open, and he stared into Phil's, brown meeting blue. Concern painted over Phil’s face as he saw Tubbo’s blown pupil, and he grimaced. Phil scratched his stubble, and ran his hands through his blonde hair. 

 

“Damn it, I don't know what to do.” Tubbo’s eyes slid closed again, and he drifted off into the sleep that beckoned to him with open arms. 

 

“No, No Tubbo stay awake, open your eyes kiddo, plea-

 

---

 

Toby made his way to the med bay, arm clutched in his own shirt. 

 

“Hullo? Anyone here?” Toby poked his head into the open door, peeking into the disheveled exam room. There was nobody at the desk up front, and Toby’s arm was bleeding quite a bit, so he took it upon himself to patch himself up. 

 

Toby stepped into the room, eyeing the jar of bandages and gauze. He grabbed a handful of bandages, sat down on the table, and unwrapped his arm. The wound, the accidental aftermath of meeting the business end of a box opener, was bleeding sluggishly, already clotting in the shallow bits. Toby got to work with the bandages, humming to himself while he worked.

“Oh um, hi?” The voice startled Toby, and he jammed his finger in the wound, causing him to curse.

“FUUC-Oh hi!” Toby looked up from the pain, addressing the bewildered, extremely tall man in the doorway. He was wearing a high collared jumpsuit, black with white side panels, and a red cross on the shoulders. The tall man, whom Toby assumed was a doctor, was wearing a medical mask, had unruly blond-ish hair, and striking grey eyes.

The man stepped forwards, and gestured to the still bleeding cut on Toby’s arm.

“May I? Sorry for not being at the desk, Dr.Rosales needed me to synthesize meds for our back stock, and i didnt realise she left the desk alone. Or I forgot I was supposed to watch it. Hmm.” The doctor, still unnamed, took over the cleaning and did it much better and faster than Toby could ever do. Toby hummed, feeling a bit awkward in the silence with this stranger.

“Sooo, what's your name? I'm Toby, from robotics.” The doctor stopped for a second, eyes widening as if only seeing Toby for the first time.

“Did I not introduce myself? Gosh I'm sorry. Um, I'm Dr.Miller, technically, but everyone calls me Ranboo. I think my brother spoke of you before. Er, do you know someone named Tommy?”

Toby straightened up, eyes bright at the mention of his friend on the ship.

“Oh yeah! Me and Tom met at the mixer, and we’ve been hanging out quite a bit. I don't recall him mentioning a brother though.”

Ranboo tied off the gauze wrap, and turned around to search the bottom cabinets for an item that Toby couldn't see. He called from over his shoulder to Toby, sounding a bit muffled with the mask.

“Oh, Tommy isn't my brother, he's just really accident prone.” Toby snorted at that. Accident prone was putting it nicely, Tom’s second home was the med bay. Every time they met up, there was a new bandage adorning Tom’s body.

“Anyway, Techno is my brother. He's on security, and helped me land this gig actually. Never worked in space before.” Ranboo stood up, and extended Toby’s arm. He sprayed the bandage with foam from a stainless steel canister that sunk into the gauze and gave it a flexible but durable texture. Toby tried flexing, and grinned when he had full movement with the arm.

“Hey, thanks man!” Ranboo’s eyes crinkled, alluding to the hidden smile behind his mask. Toby clasped hands with Ranboo, shaking it a few times and patting Ranboos hand with his free one. Toby turned to leave, and Ranboo busied himself with the bed, apparently changing the paper that lined the bed. Toby hesitated at the door, and met eyes with Ranboo again.

“Actually, I was about to get Tom to go into the simulator with me. Wanna tag along?”

Chapter 3: CR-4546B-003: Hostile Fauna Encounter Logged

Personnel File: Daniel "Ranboo" Miller
ID Number : AI-0942-DM
Age : 21
Occupation : Medical Officer
Department : Medical
Status : Active

Likes : Reading, learning, nature, quiet moments
Dislikes : Bloodshed, seeing others in pain, noisy environments
Personality Traits : Thoughtful, reserved, observant, caring
Medical Notes : History of mental health concerns, currently under observation for periodic stress-induced episodes. Exhibits memory issues, including occasional lapses in short-term memory or confusion in high-stress situations.
Background : Ranboo is a medical officer with a calm and measured demeanor. His expertise lies in both emergency response and long-term care. He often isolates himself in order to recharge after particularly harrowing experiences but is deeply dedicated to his work and his crew.
Education :

• High School: "Hawthorne Academy"
• Medical School: "Cedarwood Medical University"

Usefulness (Captain's Assessment) :

• Medical Response Speed: High – Quick in emergency medical situations, though sometimes affected by memory issues under pressure.
• Stress Management: Moderate – Shows occasional lapses in memory and confusion during high-stress events.
• Team Support: High – Strong support role for crew well-being, especially in maintaining morale and mental health.

 

---

 

“Your name is Ranboo. You were in a crash.”

The voice memo shocked Ranboo out of his staring. He was gazing into the glass hatch, watching the curious purple and grey creatures dart between long stalks of vine. The watch on his wrist buzzed, and the memo played again. The vibration was grounding, keeping Ranboo tethered to this moment, and not floating in his head.

‘I was in a crash. The Aurora fell. No, it was shot? Something. I survived. I'm alive.’

“I'm alive.”   The words hung in the air, sounding muffled to Ranboo’s ears. He recounted what he could remember, and looked around the lifepod for what he assumed was the thousandth time. Ranboo was sitting on the floor, left arm in a sling and a wrap covering his right knuckles. The wrap was stained already, thin splotches of red over the protrusions of his bones.

The pod was small, definitely not tall enough for Ranboo to stand up straight. Probably why he was sitting. The lights were dimmed, and a blinking red light on the radio bathed the space in a faint red light every few seconds. The light caught his attention, and Ranboo realised that his eye was blurry, like how it gets before he gets a migraine. 

 

Sharp taps on the hatch broke his train of thought, and Ranboo whipped his head to see what was causing the noise. He creeped closer, right arm snaking out to open the hatch. It opened before Ranboo got close enough, and two hands breached the surface of the water, and planted on the rim.

Dr.Rosales, dressed in a wetsuit and face mask, hoisted herself out of the water, sending droplets onto Ranboos skin and clothes. She closed the hatch below her, and stood on the inset glass to minimise the spread of water. Kind, understanding eyes blinked at Ranboo as she removed the facemask with a hiss.

“I found metal! Chunks, everywhere! And look!” Dr.Rosales dug in a pouch and retrieved a glistening object. She held it out for Ranboo, and he took it into his good hand. It was a tooth, strong and glossy, and blunt at the end. He turned the ivory object in his hand, taking in the unblemished appearance.

“These creatures, they gathered the metal. I've seen caves lined with it, and piles all over the place.” Ranboo glanced at the hatch again, seeing the tail of a purple creature disappear into the vines.

“Are they dangerous?” Dr.Rosales shook her head, and began wringing out her dark hair.

“No, at least not yet. They didn't seem to be mad when I took from the metal piles, but I doubt they would stay neutral if threatened. How's your head feeling? You got a little forgetful for a moment, so I set your watch to remind you when your heart rate peaks.”

Ranboo breathed, and gave her a smile.

“I'm good now. Well, good as I can be. Is, is the radio working?” He was hopeful, mentally crossing his fingers to hear any good news in the, frankly terrible situation. Ranboo’s flame of hope flickered when Dr.Rosales’ face fell. She sighed, and her finger spun the ring on her hand.

“No. Not in the way you're hoping. I've heard Ph-Chief Watson as for survivors, but our sending software is broken, or corrupted, or something smart sounding.” She laughed with a sad, wet sound. A droplet hit the floor, and although it was saltwater, Ranboo knew it wasn't coming from the sea.

“They're calling for survivors, but we can't speak to them. They don't know we survived. I can't tell him I'm alive.” Dr.Rosales stuttered in a breath, and stared into the radios flashing light. The silence mounted and dark tendrils of ice cold fear wound their way around Ranboo’s heart. His mind spun, clipping in and out of the present and the past, a whirlpool of fear churning his stoma—

The buzz of his watch startled Ranboo out of his spiral. He gasped in a breath that he wasn't aware was being held. Ranboo’s hands shook with the pressure of fear, and he blinked away tears that had pooled in his eyes. Ranboo’s mind began to race again, this time with half baked, naive plans—each more desperate than the last. 

 

“Cou-could we swim? I can hold my breath, I’m pretty sure. Do you know where the other pods are? Wha-what do we know? Dr.Rosales, what do we do?” The words tumbled from his mouth, mounting in volume and terror until he was pleading at her feet. A hand—soft and uncalloused, touched his wet cheeks, and tilted his head from its downturned position. 

 

“Call me Kristin, please. I think surviving a crash like that owes us some familiarity.” Kristin’s warm eyes bore into Ranboo’s, spreading her warmth and chasing away the cold in the pit of his belly. He sucked in a breath, still catching a bit on the edges of his worry, and shelved the fear. For now. 

 

“Our first priority is finding the others. I can’t see over the edge of the water, the vines are too thick, and they've basically grown over the top of our pod already. I wasn't going to risk swimming out of the vines until you were more grounded.” Kristin bustled around the pod, hit suddenly by the ferocity of survival. A lock box was set into Ranboo’s lap, and he busied himself with packing the copious first aid supplies into an organized and useful array. 

 

“What's it like out there?” The words were quiet in the comfortable silence, and hung in the air timidly. Part of Ranboo didn't want to know—the same part that wanted him to curl into a ball and let the sea turn his body into salt, but the overwhelming part of his brain was trying to paint a picture of the alien world outside. Kristin stilled, her nimble hands stilling on the currently fabricating air tank. She turned, a look in her eye that ranboo had only seen in children.

Wonder.

“It's ethereal. The creatures, oh god Ranboo, the colors. It's the type of thing that takes your breath away.” Kristin spoke almost reverently, like the world outside had single handedly changed her brain chemistry to fall in love with the water. Ranboo’s curiosity built, pressurizing behind his sternum like a boiler, slowly hissing from behind his bones. He was still as Kristin fit him with the air tank, as the rebreather was strapped behind his head, as the hatch was opened and he was grappling with the fact that he was going to dive into an ocean on an alien world. 

 

If the cool water couldn't knock his breath out of his lungs and into the atmosphere, the scene under the tangled net of vines and glowing sacs could. 

 

Schools of tiny, glimmering fish darted in and out of large leafy stalks of vines, chasing each other and bubbles and nothing at the same time. They moved so fast they were streaks in the water, more like the stars Ranboo could see out of his tiny porthole on the Aurora .  

 

Here and there Ranboo could see large white creatures with purple markings, the same ones that Kristin said were friendly. One poked out of the forest of vines and into the little clearing they were in, and Ranboo chilled at the sight of its teeth—large sharp things, almost the size of his forearm. But the twinge of fear he felt was overtaken by the awe of the world around him.

“-oo? Ranboo? Follow me? Oh, what channel did I set it to?” Kristins tinny voice filtered through his ears, the comm in the rebreather having connected to Kristins own. Ranboo turned in the water, nodded at Kristin and followed her figure through the threshold of the vines.

The green plants, illuminated by glowing yellow sacs, grew thicker and in tree-like clumps, making navigation slow. Ranboo wound in and out of the plants, feeling more and more at ease in the water. At some point, he pulled ahead on Kristin, and they switched roles—Kristin holding the box of supplies and Ranboo pushing aside the long stalks of vine. The water was getting brighter after a handful of minutes, and Ranboo hoped that the creeping vines were thinning. He kept pushing forwards, growing more excited and almost hearing the sunlight calling him. 

 

Ranboo was at ease, sliding through the water and around the vines, not taking his eyes off of the shimmering light ahead of him. 

 

It was beautiful, and calming. And it drew Ranboo closer and closer.

Vaguely, Ranboo could tell someone was talking in his ear, but the mesmerising fish took forefront in his mind.

Come closer. 

 

c l o s e r

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

‘Wait. Those are teeth.’

 

The sight of those teeth shot ice into Ranboos veins. The glimmering fins—covered in color shifting scales, flattened to the body of a creature, blues and greens and teals swirling together into a hypnotic mess of scales that Ranboo can't make sense of. 

 

He scrambled backwards, or tried to, arms flying up to cover his throbbing eyes. After a bit of silence, blood rushing in his ears and heart pounding, Ranboo opens his eyes again.

The fish is gone, and Kristin is in front of Ranboo, the supply box tucked under her arm. Ranboo’s fingers and toes are going numb, the consciousness bleeding out of his body and into the water around him. His vision tunnels, and understanding blooms in Kristins kind eyes.

She takes his hand, gently, and leads him like a mother would her child. Ranboo takes a backseat, floating somewhere above his body and watches through tv screen eyes. The pair work through the vines, and finally come to the edge of the forest. They push through the final line of stringy vines, into a swath of open water. They broke the surface, breathing the salty air through the filters of the rebreather and blinking eyes against the sun.

A figure, leaning over the top of an escape pod gaped at them. Golden curls and blue eyes peered down at the pair, disbelief painting his features.

“I'm not alone?”

Chapter 4: CR-4546B-004: Emergency Systems Failing

Personnel File: Alexander "Technoblade" Miller
ID Number : AI-3745-TBL
Age : 26
Occupation : Security Officer
Department : Security
Status : Active

Likes : Strategy games, fighting, honor, solo work
Dislikes : Dishonesty, weakness, unnecessary drama
Personality Traits : Determined, disciplined, confident, natural leader
Medical Notes : Excellent physical condition, tendency to push himself to physical limits
Background : A highly experienced security officer, Technoblade is known for his strength and strategic mind. He handles security protocols and combat readiness, often stepping in as a leader when the crew faces threats. Though sometimes seen as cold, his loyalty to his team is unwavering.
Education :

• High School: "Griffin Academy"
• University: "Vanguard Security Institute"

Usefulness (Captain's Assessment) :

• Physical Combat Proficiency: High – Top-tier combat ability, capable of handling multiple adversaries.
• Security Protocols: High – Strong knowledge and implementation of ship security systems.
• Team Dynamics: Moderate – Effective when required but can appear standoffish, especially in non-crisis scenarios.

 

---

 

Someone was singing. 

 

It was the first thing that Techno heard after he had broken the surface, a lyricless melody cycling through scales before starting again. At first, before the water had rushed from his ears and the canals had gone dry, Techno thought it was coming from his capsized pod. The thing had stayed afloat for as long as it could manage, struggling against the waves until enough water had blown in through the jagged hole in the starboard panel, leaving him stranded treading water and nothing to rest on.

Techno thought it was pure fate that he had just gotten certified in oceanic procedures before disembarking with the Aurora.  

 

Thankfully, the submerged fabricator still worked, and didn’t require any fixes—he'd never been too proficient at any electronic work—and he had chuckled at the irony. Making an air tank and fins out of the wreckage of the pod was easy enough, and Techno had basically salvaged the entire pod to make a few knives and a long spear type weapon that he strapped to his back.

 

Techno floated on the water for a few minutes, drinking in the sun and taking a moment to listen to the singing. He wasn’t able to pinpoint where it was coming from, the low tones carrying over the water and echoing until the singing came from all directions to surround Techno. He tried in vain to look above the surface, but there was no way to propel himself enough to see more than a few meters away from where he was. 

 

“HELLO?” Techno’s voice, gravelly and deep, boomed over the water. The singing stopped, leaving Techno in silence. There was nothing—save for the waves that lapped around Techno’s body—until a very faint, very frantic voice answered.

 

It was too far away to make out any words, but this time Techno had a general location to wander in. He traversed the waves, legs kicking until they burnt worse than the salt in his nose. The ocean floor beneath him dropped away, and the large tubes of coral got smaller and smaller until there was just sand and a few sparse rocks beneath him. 

 

The ground was beginning to get covered in red grass—sharp spiky things that jutted out of the ground like hair—and large spires grew out of the sand. Techno stayed close to the surface now, weary to go too close to the ground and not have enough air to return to the surface. At some point, Techno had fully descended, swimming a few meters under the surface. It was easier than trying to fight the waves at least.

 

A shadow cut over Techno’s body, and with a start he realized it was an almost capsized lifepod. The thing was upside down, like Techno’s before it filled and sunk. He swam a lap around the pod, a tiny kernel of fear settling in Techno’s stomach as he saw the giant ragged gash that ripped through the side of the pod. 

 

Finally he kicked to the surface, removing his mask in order to wipe the fog that had built on the glass.

“Technoblade?”

It was jarring to hear another person after the crash. Some part of Techno had convinced himself that he was utterly alone, stranded on this hellscape of water. The pessimistic voices in his head shrunk in lieu of the new chorus of We’re saved! and, not alone!

 

The man was tall—having at least a good few inches on himself—and lanky. Arms and legs tucked and unmoving to keep the precarious pod afloat. He had a halo of brown curls, most matted down with sweat, salt, and made darker by the blood lining his temple. The blood followed the contour of his face, and stained the collar of his white Alterra branded t-shirt. Techno narrowed his eyes, staring at the familiar man.

 

Take away the blood, give him a pair of glittering half-moon spectacles, and make him follow and annoy Techno while he was on duty, and this guy could be–

 

“Will?”

 

---

It was Techno’s first day at his new boarding school. The name of the school emblazoned on his scratchy blazer, Griffin Academy smiled up at Techno’s grimacing face. His parents hadn’t listened when Techno had expressed his disinterest in engineering. His father had smoldered, demanding that Techno carry on his family's lineage of successful engineers. He had protested all summer, calling his parents bluff of sending him away.

Senior year of highschool, Techno was forced to the academy. It was a ‘formative’ academy, and tried to keep Techno well into his university years. A strongly worded conversation got Techno his way.

But the two years he was in the academy were hell. 

 

And the only person who could keep him from sinking was his loudmouthed, British roommate. 

 

Wilbur was odd, loud and unashamed, but smart as a whip and able to talk his way out of any situation. The two were an unlikely pair, almost cliche in a way. 

 

When they split to go their separate ways in life, Techno wasn't sure if he would see his friend again. But, life went on. Eventually, Techno and his brother were invited on the Aurora ; Techno to train the new security team, and his brother to get his medical certificate for zero-g procedures. 

 

Techno was delighted to see a familiar pair of glasses at the departure celebration.

 

---

 The two were amazed at their luck. Wilbur’s pod had been stocked with supplies, and techno had turned his jacket into a makeshift backpack, filling it with the tools and packaged food and water. 

 

The biggest find was a fully charged sea glide, something Techno had only seen used a few times before. It made the trip back to his own pod extremely quick, in order to make Wilbur fins and a tank. 

 

They both knew that they couldn’t stay in place—with Techno’s pod capsized and Wilbur’s on its way—so they packed with no intention to return. The single, cracked PDA, that Wilbur had bypassed the emergency reboot on, logged the nearest radio signals in the area. 

 

The closest seemed to be near the front of the Aurora. Techno hoped there was someone alive near the signal. 

 

Techno and Wilbur were able to each take a handle of the sea glide, in order to propel them both through the water. They set out into the unknown, the movement of the water calming despite the scenario they were in. The two friends settled into a solid rhythm of movement, with Techno watching their left and Wilbur watching the right sides. It was a simple ride, cutting through the water and watching the seafloor drop away into open water.

There were whale-like creatures, with huge bodies and long tentacle tendrils swimming in the distance. Techno could feel their calls in his chest, the deep song resonating in his ribcage like an echo chamber of vibrations. They never strayed too close, thankfully. The small spear Techno had would have stood no chance against the creatures if they were hostile.

The PDA led them in a straight line, almost parallel to the crashed behemoth of a ship. 

 

Techno didn't look over there. He couldn't stomach the thought of the people he knew, trapped in the smoldering ruins.

 

The PDA blipped, a soft sound almost wiped away in the water, drawing the attention of Techno and Wilbur. The map—an incomplete topography of the sea below them—centered around their location, an orange dot. The nearest radio signal, the blinking red dot, was approaching, fast. 

 

Techno met Wilbur’s eyes, and nodded to the surface. They tangled the seaglide up, and it tugged them through the waves. The two broke the surface, and Techno spat out the air tanks hose, breathing in the salty air. 

 

There, sitting on the waves was a lifepod, bigger than Techno’s or Wilbur’s, and bobbing merrily in the calm waves. Clothing was draped on the outside of the pod—half dried pieces of cloth, a green jacket and a long, stained bandage—and they fluttered in the wind, stiffened by the salt in the air. 

 

Signs of life were always good, and the fact that the bottom hatch opened the instant Techno knocked on it was even better.

 

It felt like their probability of survival just jumped in odds.

Chapter 5: CR-4546B-005: Resource Collection Directive

Personnel File: William "Wilbur Soot" Gold
ID Number : AI-6832-WSG
Age : 28
Occupation : Maintenance Chief
Department : Engineering
Status : Active

Likes : Music, problem-solving, long walks, tea
Dislikes : Incompetence, being rushed, broken equipment
Personality Traits : Independent, creative, quiet, sarcastic
Medical Notes : Slightly high stress levels, otherwise in good health
Background : Wilbur is the go-to person for all things maintenance on the Aurora. His innovative thinking often leads to fixes for broken systems no one else can solve. Despite his quiet nature, he enjoys the occasional philosophical conversation and is a self-taught musician.
Education :

• High School: "Griffin Academy"
• University: "London Institute of Mechanics"

Usefulness (Captain's Assessment) :

• System Troubleshooting: High – Exceptional ability to fix even the most complex mechanical problems.
• Crisis Situations: Moderate – Efficient in maintaining systems during critical moments, though high stress can impact performance.
• Team Dynamics: Moderate – Independent worker, can be aloof, but delivers when needed.

 

---

 

It was times like these that Wilbur really hated his eighteen year old self. 

 

He was freshly eighteen, and the newest wave of neuromods had just hit the market, promising to “Turn your mundane life, into a movie!”  

 

So he had spent the bulk of his savings, gotten the tiny chip implanted behind his ear, and lived his life with Spotify integrated background music. 

 

Now, stranded within the waves of an alien planet, Will was losing his mind.

 

There were only so many times he could stand listening to Sail . 

 

But, now he wasn’t alone. He was in a life pod, with a higher ranking officer than himself, so all he had to do was follow orders. The Chief Officer—Phil, with kind eyes and a firm handshake—and Tubbo, a kid Wilbur recalled seeing in the robotics bay. 

 

Then there was Techno, his friend, reunited after years and somehow finding each other again after the crash. 

 

Wilbur breathed out a sigh that he didn’t realize he was holding, finally letting his bones settle and heart rate come down. A smooth transition between the songs settled his mind into a sea of acoustic lo-fi as Wilbur set to taking count of the accumulated supplies. 

 

They had a fair amount of compressed nutrient blocks—the brown, crumbly material tasting of nothing but filling the necessary nutrients for day to day functions—enough to keep the four alive for at least a few days, maybe a week if they ration. 

 

Water was going to be their downfall. Despite being surrounded with an entire planet of the stuff, they only had two jugs, a combined total of six quarts of water. Sooner rather than later, they would need another supply. 

 

Wilbur looked up, watching for a moment. Techno and Phil were fretting over Tubbo, who was awake but woozy. The atmosphere was calm, surprisingly. The soothing beat of the lo-fi in his ear allowed Wilbur to settle into the chatter of the other three without much fanfare. 

 

“Ah, Will, could we get some blocks here? I want Tubbo to get healing as soon as possible, until we find a way to fully fix his concussion.”

“We think it's a concussion, Phil. It could just be a bump.” Tubbo bit into the nutrient block that Wilbur passed him, after grumbling to Phil. He chewed the block, not making eye contact with anyone. Phil reached down to ruffle his hair, and stopped before he made contact, seemingly changing his mind.

“Yeah mate, you have a blown pupil and you passed out because of a bump. Sure. Will, how are we with the combined supplies?”

Wilbur breathed out, and raised his eyebrows in a premature apology.

“We have about a week's worth of food, after rationing. But, damn Phil, water is gonna kill us. We have six quarts, nowhere near enough for the four of us, for longer than a few days at most. And that's stretching it, much farther than we should be. We need to find fresh water source Phil, or we’re dead meat.”

Phil winced at the words, and rubbed his eyes. They sat in silence, with Tubbo’s and Techno’s conversation filling the empty space. There’s no way around it, in Wilbur’s eyes. They had to get into the water. Like him and Techno, staying at the pod would only bring their doom on faster.

But Will isn’t the Chief Officer. Being honest, he doesn't want to be. It’s a terrible decision to have to make, the split of the choice made clear by the pain on Phil’s face. He opens his eyes, and breathes, steadying himself to take charge.

“We’re not sitting here.” The words get the attention of everyone in the pod, even spoken at a whisper, like the words themselves will call for disagreement.

Everyone is silent, waiting for orders. Perfect and silent, just how Alterra trained them to be.

 

“Tubbo, you’re staying until we get some sort of med-kit. No fighting it. We need vehicles, and to make them we need nanites, like you said. Make a list of what you need, the three of us will scavenge.” Phil was on a roll now, fully living up to his Chief of communications label. He took one of Techno’s extra knives, and one of the dead batteries they had wrangled from the corpse of Wilbur's pod, and set them onto the fabricator and inputted a command. The fabricator sprung to life, dissolving the materials before printing three white devices onto the tray.

 

“Speaking of us, we need to know what we have around us. So Will, Techno. We’re taking these scanners, and scanning every single thing we come across. Be it rocks, sand, fish, plants, I don't care. Knowledge will keep us alive.” Phil fiddled with the three wrist mounted scanners, and tapped them all to his own and Wilbur's PDA.

 

“Every entry should go to our PDAs now. Techno, Will. Since you're the only ones with fins and tanks, you’re going to start gathering. I'm going to push the pod to where yours sank, Wilbur. Being suspended over a spot where we can’t see the bottom is a non-starter. Rely on each other, and if in doubt, swim to the surface.”

Phil ended his orders, and handed Will and Techno the scanners. All four were struck by the feeling of anticipation. Will was surprised at Phil’s turn around, going from not wanting Tubbo to even touch the water, to ordering them all into the alien ocean. 

 

But, Wilbur followed the orders like he was supposed to. The scanner fit on his wrist, a comforting weight and able to be activated by a flexing of his fingers. He flexed, and ran the holographic blue light over his hand, waiting for the blip to say that it was successful. The twin PDAs chimed, and Phil gave him a smile.

“Good idea. I'm glad they work.” 

 

Wilbur nodded, and fit his mask over his head again. The hiss of the filling air tank filled the pod, then the sound of the hatch opening. Techno left first, and Wilbur followed, sitting on the edge before tumbling in with just a little bit of grace.

The sight of the ocean was still otherworldly, though it had lost the edge of wonder. Wilbur followed Techno’s trail of bubbles, throwing out the scanner's light at the little fish that followed him. There were alot of single eyed fish, and even more heart-shaped purple ones. Techno broke off to pursue a few stalks of green vines, and Wilbur watched him slice a few lengths of the vine, and twist them into a bag he secured to his belt.

“Will, I'm going to look in these tubes. The nodes look interesting, and I see a crystal or something. Over.”

Will made eye contact with Techno, voicing an affirmative and setting himself to scanning the little purple mushrooms growing out of the sand.

In hindsight, Wilbur definitely shouldn't have touched the mushrooms—especially with the crushing grip he gave them—but he hadn't expected them to disintegrate into purple vapor. 

 

The cloud of purple attached to his exposed hands, and immediately began to burn, despite the water. He shook, yelping and shaking his hand in hopes of the vapor leaving his flesh alone.

 

But the burn was short lived, leaving a swath of angry skin—raw and red, a few spots bleeding into the water—leaving Wilbur just a bit more relieved. 

 

In fact, Wilbur felt better than ever! All the colors around him were brighter, and he wasn't anxious about surviving, and his head wasn't running with different terrible scenarios he might face in the water. He let himself float for a moment, suspended in the absolute euphoria that was floating through his veins, and shut his eyes.

Chapter 6: CR-4546B-006: Fungal Organism Safety Pending

Personnel File: Phillip "Philza" Watson
ID Number : AI-1539-PW
Age : 36
Occupation : Head of Communications
Department : Communications
Status : Active

Likes : Gardening, coffee, family, calmness
Dislikes : Conflict, losing communication, poor planning
Personality Traits : Caring, patient, pragmatic, resourceful
Medical Notes : Good health, occasional back pain from long shifts
Background : Philza is the calming presence in any storm. As Head of Communications, he is responsible for keeping all lines open, ensuring the crew’s messages are received and acted upon. His steady hand and thoughtful approach make him a respected figure aboard the Aurora. He is married to Kristin Rosales, Head of Medical, with whom he shares a strong partnership both professionally and personally.
Education :

• High School: "Wellington High School"
• University: "Kingsford University"

Usefulness (Captain's Assessment) :

• Communication Systems: High – Ensures constant, reliable communication between all departments.
• Crisis Management: High – Remains calm under pressure and helps mediate between departments.
• Team Leadership: High – Effective leader and communicator, ensuring that all crew members are informed and on the same page.

 

---

 

“Captain on deck!”

 

The crew—Phil's crew—jumped out of their seats in unison, a picture of a perfectly oiled machine. Phil's mouth quirked into a smile, a small motion, hidden by the seriousness of the rest of his face. The flight deck was silent, save for the blips of computers and the ever-present hum of the air recycler. 

 

After being stuck on the Aurora for five months, the background noise was the backbone of Phil's sanity. 

 

The sleek, gilded doors slid open, and in marched the Captain, sleek dress shoes clicking in rhythm, pressed uniform smooth and unwrinkled. She was a picture of militaristic elegance, holding the attention of every member on the flight deck and exuding a pure aura of dominance.

She reminded Phil of Kristin. 

 

Captain Sawyer stood in her command bubble, a raised dais of white, lined with a short handrail. Her hands clasped behind her back and she took in the crew—standing in perfect attention, gazes trained and attention rapt. 

 

“At ease.” Her voice sliced through the air, and the crew relaxed back into their stations. Her gaze cut through the groups of personnel, and lazily swiped through a PDA mounted on her wrist cuff. “How are we with the scheduled probe release?”

 

“On schedule to release as planned, Sir.”

Captain Sawyer looked to the wide glass wall, staring into the inky expanse of space. “And of project Zeta-nine?”

 

Phil blinked. One of his own team members rose, and handed a small drive to the Captain, and announced, “Everything is going as scheduled, Sir.” 

 

Now phil wasn't too high in the totem pole, he definitely wasn't second in command or even third, but as Head of communications basically all mission plans went through him to delegate and contact colonies for support. 

 

So Phil's eyes followed the Captain as she left, and he eyed the member who had spoken. 

 

So he keyed Zeta-nine into his PDA’s notes. Just to remember it.

---

 

“PHIL” Techno’s shout startled Phil, who had been sifting through the various new databank entries in his PDA, and he stared at Techno, who was half submerged in the lifepods escape hatch.

“Woah, mate, what’s wrong? Are you ok? What happened?” Phils brain went into panic mode, thinking the worse and trying to see what chunk was taken out of Techno’s body.

“Its Will, he touched some mushrooms, i don't know what they did to him, but he's unresponsive.” Techno dipped under the water, and soon Wilbur's curls breached the surface. He made no move to hoist himself up, so Phil and Tubbo leaned forward to yank him out of the water.

When he was laying on the floor, hands opening and closing repeatedly, Phil removed his mask. Will’s brown eyes were almost pitch black, the brown irises eaten by his dilated pupils. He was breathing normally, and a wispy smile tugged at Wilbur's lips. He didn't respond to Phil snapping in front of his eyes, or a call of his name.

 

Tubbo called from the other side of the pod, PDA in hand and scrolling furiously. “Mushrooms, Techno said? There's an entry here, the last reported from Will’s scanner. Acid mushrooms, an aquatic fungi with acidic flesh. Shares compounds with chemical psychedelics. Could be used to fabricate batteries.”

Techno sighed. “So he's tripping. Hard, probably. At Least 3 of them were crushed, and i don't know how much got absorbed through his hands.” He dragged a hand down his face, and replaced his mask. “Just stay calm, give him food and water, and keep him grounded. Being a trip sitter is easy. I'm going back out, Tubbo, what do you need for fabrication?”

 

Tubbo scrolled through the PDA again, and hummed. “Honestly, some of those mushrooms for batteries. Copper nodes, titanium from scrap, crystals, and table coral pieces. That should be a good enough start for basic tools, and maybe a habitat constructor.”

Techno nodded, and descended with a single thumbs up. Phil and Tubbo made eye contact, then looked at Will in tandem, who was now popping his lips and tapping his chest.

“Since we’re stuck here, want to go through these data entries?” 

 

“Yes please. Pass me a PDA, please?”

 

Phil takes the PDA, and opens the tabs of databanks. There is a ton, and more and more are trickling in as he scrolls. Even just skimming the blurbs, Phil is learning more about this alien world. 

 

The gravity is slightly less than earths, leading to the uneasiness that Phil’s been feeling since the crash, with an atmosphere almost identical to Earths before the destruction of the last forest. 

 

Their water situation had an easy solution, so easy it felt suspicious. The purple, heart shaped fish—bladderfish, the scanner had decided—had a mesh-like structure that could be used as a molecular water filter, essentially prolonging their survival tenfold. 

 

And the natural resources, titanium copper gold silver, so much needed for electronics and tools, just growing right below the surface, in little gift nodes. 

 

Tubbo's little hums and gasps of excitement progressed the whole time they were reading. At one point, he had even shouted in glee, (“ Phil, this planet creates uranium! With enough time, we could even make a ship capable of spaceflight!” )

 

Wilbur’s trip had decreased, with him going quiet and staring out of the hatch, watching the schools of peepers and boomerangs flit by. Then he spoke into the quiet.

“Phil… Do you think we’re gonna make it?” 

Damn. 

 

Phil didn't have an answer. Now Tubbo was watching, eyes gleaming in the way only a hopeful child's could. They were expecting a reply, for their Chief Officer to quell their fears and be the leader they needed.

But Phil needed guidance. Phil didn’t have the answers they were searching for.

And Phil felt useless.

As he met those brown eyes, brimming with tears, he begged himself to fan the spark of hope he found.

But he couldn't. Couldn't lie. Couldn't lead his flock astray. 

 

So he closed his mouth, grit his teeth, and looked away. Away from the glances and eyes he could feel burning into his temples. Tubbo scoffed, and Phil tensed his whole body. The silence was unbearable, but the words he longed to say were lodged in his throat.

“I think the stars knew we were coming. They prepared for us. I don't think we’re leaving dad. But I don't think we’re staying, either.”

 

Phil met Wilbur's eyes, and the look was piercing but distant. WIlbur's eyes glinted in the light of the pod, almost purple in places. The cosmos were trapped in those tortured eyes, a single statement seemingly aging Wil by decades.

 

“We need to focus on now. On getting through the next hour, then day, then week. There's a resolution somewhere, but dwelling will only kill us faster.”

Tubbo's words were harsh and wise. Phil nodded at him, still unable to form the words needed to agree.

Even without the other side of his soul, even without a guarantee of survival, Phil was determined to survive.

 

“So her memory won’t die on this planet.’

Chapter 7: CR-4546B-007: Survival Rendezvous Executed

Personnel File: Kristin "Mumza" Rosales
ID Number : AI-8726-KR
Age : 37
Occupation : Head of Medical
Department : Medical
Status : Active

Likes : Leadership, helping others, meditation, cooking
Dislikes : Disorganization, lack of respect, health neglect
Personality Traits : Strong-willed, empathetic, disciplined, no-nonsense
Medical Notes : Excellent health, a few stress-related headaches after long shifts
Background : As the Head of Medical, Mumza oversees the health and well-being of the crew, providing emergency care when needed. She has a sharp mind for medical diagnosis and a strong sense of duty, often putting the needs of others before her own. She is married to Phillip Watson, Head of Communications, with whom she shares a strong partnership both professionally and personally.
Education :

• High School: "Silverridge Academy"
• Medical School: "St. John’s University of Medicine"

Usefulness (Captain's Assessment) :

• Medical Expertise: High – Proficient in both emergency care and general practice.
• Crisis Response: High – Fast and efficient in responding to medical emergencies.
• Team Leadership: High – Strong, authoritative leader with a clear focus on crew health and safety.

---

Kristin had always wanted kids.

But the universe is cruel, and a smattering of tumors found on and around her ovaries, when she was 15, had left Kristin infertile. 

She had come to terms with it, many years of throwing herself into studies and school and lots of late night therapy sessions, Kristin was at peace with what remained of her future. There was a point in her and Phil’s relationship where they tried—savings drained and rounds of unsuccessful IVF treatments—but the stress was too much for them both, and they had settled into their dual household.

Then, she and Phil had gotten re-assigned to the Aurora

And Kristin had grown attached to her medical assistant, Ranboo. He was quiet, a calm aura to be around, and they were able to banter back and forth and work in silence all in the same day. Then Ranboo had brought his new found friends around—Tommy and Tubbo—and her quiet office got a little louder during lunch.

So when the Undefeatable Aurora crashed, Kristin felt lucky to be marooned with one of her ducklings.

Then she and Ranboo left the tangle of the forest, and she had pulled him from the clutches of a shimmering fish. Ranboo had dissociated, something he tended to do when stressed or overworked. Breaking out of the edge of the forest, then the surface of the water, they were met face to face with Tommy, her loudmouthed, unashamed, glue that held the trio together, duckling.

He had gaped at them, jaw dropping before whispering into the air, words stolen by the wind above the waves. But Kristin heard, and if Ranboo wasn't in her arms, she would have leapt out of the water and cradled Tommy, wiping those tears and calming his fear.

“Oh, Tommy. I’m here now. We’re in this together now.” Tommy’s look hardened with hope, and he fully climbed out of the pod. The top of his red and black jumpsuit was tied around his waist, white tank top almost soaked through with what looked like sweat and oil. Tommy wiped his face, flicking droplets from his eyes that glittered in the light as they hit the water.

Kristin watched as Tommy knelt on the buoyant ledge of the pod, and reached out to grab at, and hoist, Ranboo into his arms and out of the water. She was glad that Ranboo trusted his trio enough with his dissociation. She led the taller boy to the pod’s edge, and handed him to Tommy, bracing against the edge of the pod incase Ranboo fell back into the waves.

After some quick logistics, Ranboo was in the pod—Tommy’s discarded jacket over his shoulders and eyes—and Kristin was sitting with Tommy on the cramped floor of the pod. Tommy was messing with a piece of charred plastic, flipping it between fingers and hands, while listening to Kristin's recount of their swim.

“God, your first thought was to jump in the water? Gosh Mumza, you’re crazy!” Tommy laughed, and Kristin reveled in the bright sound. Coupled with the title, she could almost pretend to be something she wasn't for a moment.

She eyed the radio on the pod’s wall.

“Tom, does your radio work?”

He glanced up, and they both looked at the radio, lights dim and flickering.

“Not fully. My location is being transmitted, I think? But I definitely can't send or receive.” Tommy stood, and gestured for Kristin to come look. She was peering into the mess of melted, charred, and colorful wires until Tommy pointed out a section near the base. An orange wire melted around a piece of wound wire, with the connection less than an inch away.

“There's a conducting wire, but the casing melted in the fire. I need something to bridge the gap, something conductive enough to hold a message.”

Kristin eyed the small gap.

“Would gold plated work?”

Tommy eyed her, and back into the radio. He hummed, and tilted his head.

“I think so. Maybe long enough? If it doesn't melt. Why?”

Kristin hesitated, and silently slipped off her wedding band. She didn't look when Tommy took it from her palm, or when he fit the ring into the mess of wires.

But when she heard a ding, and then the voice of her husband , Kristin whirled back around. Tommy stepped back, arms held high as the radio sputtered to life. A thin line of smoke coiled in the air, but neither person gave it any mind. The lights grew stronger, and Chief Officer of Communications, Phil Watson’s voice filtered through.

“Attention all survivors. This is acting captain Philza Watson. If you have the means to do so, make your way to the beaconed location. If you are unable to relocate, ping this radio. We will find you. Godspeed, and good luck.”

With the end of the message, the radio buzzed, the lights flickered again, and a darker plume of smoke coughed out into the air of the pod. Kristin waved away the smoke—already filtering out of the open hatch—and looked at Tommy’s incredulous face.

“What are the chances?” Ranboo piped up from the ground, peering up at the smoking radio.

Tommy and Kristin jumped, and Tommy absolutely yelped. Ranboo cracked at that, laughter spilling out of his lips, even as Tommy attempts to stop him with an angry gasp. The scene is boys at their best, and Kristin lets them be for the moment. The fabricator on the opposite wall had folded open, and a small sphere was being materialized.

The fabricator’s laser stopped, and dinged twice before Kristin took the metal sphere. It was light and cool in her hand, made of two halves that interlocked in the middle. The top half, embossed with an arrowhead, spun freely when she rotated her hand. The top wiggled with her testing movements, then settled into a single point to focus on.

“Boys.” Her voice was quiet, cutting through the air but not getting their attention.

“Boys! Look!” That got both of their attention, and she held the sphere out to their curious eyes. They followed the movement as she rotated it left and right. Ranboos' eyes traced the path the arrow was heading, past the wall of the pod.

Tommy, who had taken the sphere, was turning it this way and that, before standing and offering a hand to ranboo. He stood, and pointed upwards.

“Are we going to swim for it? We’re going to follow it, right?”

Kristin grinned, giddy with hope and excitement, meeting both Tommy and Ranboo's eyes.

“Yes, yes we are going to follow it. This isn't our end, boys. Not even close.”

Chapter 8: Interlude I

In·ter·lude

/ˈin(t)ərˌlo͞od/

Noun

noun: interlude; plural noun: interludes

-an intervening period of time.

"enjoying a lunchtime interlude"

-a pause between the acts of a play.

-something performed during a theater intermission.

 

---

 

Deep under the waves of the surface, a giant was stirring. 

A queen, bringing peace to her land but imprisoned within the walls of a castle built around her grief.

 

A mother, who’s only wish is to see her children flourish in the land she had cultivated.

A prisoner. Who never had a chance of freedom. 

But there is still hope yet. The ones who came before, who had taken from her waters can’t hear her calls. The new ones, the new playmates, new friends, perhaps their minds are more open. Perhaps they will adapt to life in the deep, and not drown below the waves. 

Either way, their bodies will return to the sand. Dust to sand to stardust to sand again. 

 

---

 

Reader, do you believe in fate?

 

Do you believe in consciousness? The amount of ones and zeros within the code of the universe it takes to form a single thought could lead some to believe that you are predetermined, set on a path of unwavering change. 

 

Maybe you believe in the illusion of choice. Does it make the thoughts easier to comprehend? 

 

Until we next cross paths.

---

 

The sky is weeping. It's the first thing that Tommy notices as he leaves the pod for the last time. Fat droplets of freshwater soak him to the bone, filling his open mouth as he drinks from the clouds. He’s floating on the water's surface, washing away his fears of being alone and replacing them with thin hope. The compass spun in his palm, pointing to his best friend and salvation. 

 

Tommy looked up, not worried about his unshielded eyes or unprotected back, and studied the planets in orbit around their prison. One was a swirl of blues and whites, whirling together into a stormy grey and bright turquoise, peppered with white. 

 

The other reminded Tommy of Tubbo’s eyes; a rusty brown, mottled with ambers and golds. It was calming, knowing that even in space, his duo would always be together somehow. 

 

---

 

Ranboo swam in and out of his mind. The inside of the pod was introjected by flashes of the past, with Ranboo a prison to his own mind, and locked within a never ending loop.

Thankfully the memories were pleasant, most of them involving Techno, Tommy, and Tubbo. Nights spent in the game simulator, quiet mornings in the med bay, and all moments in between. All Ranboo’s heart was yearning for right now was a hug from his brother. Techno always knew just how to keep him grounded, present and aware.

But, he has to keep it together, for just a bit more. Family is close, he can feel it.

 

---

 

Kristin is sick of being in charge. All she wants is to curl up next to her other half, drink in his eyes and get lost in the comfort she hasn't truly felt for weeks. Phil had been too stressed aboard the Aurora, taking on too many duties to make his crew life easy. But he took it back to their shared cabin, leaving almost no room for their personal feelings.

She had pleaded to the stars for her sunlight to take a break, do just what was asked of him and no more, and to spend a free day unburdened by work.

Perhaps she was too overzealous in her prayers. Because now they don't have to worry about taking on too many duties to be nice, they have to worry about survival.

But a voice not unlike Kristin’s own is urging her forward. Bringing a light to her eyes and a drive in her heart. Because they don't have to go home.

Her home is anywhere her sunlight is. 

 

---

 

A queen, a mother, a prisoner, all three but also none comes to life below the waves. In her heart, she knows that this time, she has been heard, and her own prayers will be answered.

Now, she just has to wait. 

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of We Who Remain