Weeks blurred into months.
The Arbor sliced through intergalactic space, its engines humming softly as stars streaked into hypnotic lines beyond the viewport. What had once been a mesmerizing dance of light had dulled into routine—a quiet rhythm that stretched endlessly.
Emma stood in the research lab, surrounded by glowing screens, scattered notes, and WoodDust vials, her hands steady as she adjusted the microscope. Beneath the lens, the sample shimmered, energy pulsing in rhythmic waves.
She murmured, almost to herself, "The green holds secrets, Dad said. What are you hiding?"
A memory flickered—her father's laughter, the rough bark of trees under her fingers, the ache of his absence.
---
The crew's initial excitement had settled into quiet determination, their routines becoming a lifeline against the void.
In the bay, soldiers drilled, the clanking of enhanced armor a steady backdrop.
At the science stations, Liam pored over data, his endless enthusiasm now a comfortable presence rather than an overzealous force.
Chloe slipped into the lab, her boots silent on the wooden floor, the soft glow of monitors casting sharp angles across her face.
"Keeping busy, Doc?" she asked, handing Emma a tablet filled with navigation updates."
Emma took it, offering a faint smile, her focus drifting back to the WoodDust sample still pulsing on the display.
"Always. This Dust… it's more than power. It's… alive, somehow."
Chloe studied her, the usual sharpness in her gaze softened by months of shared silence, of unspoken understanding.
"We'll figure it out. We always do."
---
That night, the mess hall carried a quiet hum of conversation as the crew gathered around trays of nutrient paste, their complaints half-hearted but persistent.
Mark sat across from Emma, his frame relaxed, though his eyes never lost their sharpness.
He stirred his meal absently. "You've got this sense of duty, Emma." He took a slow sip, his voice even. "Risking everything for a whisper out here."
Emma smiled softly, though there was a distant weight to it.
"I suppose so. Comes from seeing what happens when no one steps up—when people turn away."
Her mind flashed—Adewale, the chaos of escape, the burning wreckage—and she pushed it down.
Mark nodded, a shadow crossing his face. "It's a good quality. Dangerous, though, in the void."
Emma looked out the viewport, where stars blurred past like ghosts of distant worlds.
"Maybe. But it's who we are."
---
Liam joined them, his enthusiasm dimmed but still present, an ember refusing to die.
"Still can't believe we're out here—beyond the rim." He exhaled, shaking his head. "What if it's nothing?"
Emma met his gaze, steady, certain.
"Then we've ruled it out. But if it's something…"
She didn't finish the thought.
The signal's faint pull gnawed at her, a whisper in the dark—one she couldn't ignore.
The crew ate in quiet companionship, the Arbor's hum steady beneath their feet as it carried them deeper into the unknown.