s HUD flickering frantically as oxygen reserves dipped below nine minutes. Every breath felt like inhaling liquid glass.

He pushed past the twisted remains of the primary bulkhead, micro-gravity tugging at his boots

had ripped through the research vessel *Aethelgard*.

Now, it was just Jax, the screaming alarms, and the suffocating dark.

He staggered forward, his suit’

He forced himself upright, boot-magnets clanking heavily against the scarred deck plating. Chief Vance was gone—reduced to a handful of radioactive dust in the blink of an eye by whatever unseen phenomenon

visor, painting the gray dust in blood-bright hues.

*HULL INTEGRITY: 12%* *ATMOSPHERIC SCRUBBERS: OFFLINE*

miniature, chaotic galaxies. He sucked in a ragged breath, the recycled air tasting of copper and scorched ozone. His suit’s Heads-Up Display glitched, casting frantic red warnings across his