The hiss of hydraulic doors and the soft glow of console lights were the only sounds left in the command module after Chase dismissed the crew. Screens switched to standby, and clusters of anxious faces trickled into the corridors, each step echoing a mixture of relief and lingering dread. He watched Amanda shuffle toward Module 6 with stooped shoulders, then turned to find Janette behind the main console, leaning against the bulkhead, arms folded, her braided blonde hair brushing one cold shoulder. Before he could gather his next thought, she pushed off the wall and strode toward him, cutting through the silence.

  “Boy, I need a word.”

  Her tone was sharp, a blade flicking open the calm. Chase blinked, adjusting to her sudden proximity. She did not wait for him to respond, her posture rigid, every movement honed for confrontation.

  “I have duties here,” she said, voice low but unyielding. “And since I can’t leave the ship, I won’t be doing this exercise with you. It’s a good team exercise and I applaud your efforts, but I’m not participating.”

  Chase studied her, this beautiful, fierce warrior who bristled at orders. Drawing on all his resolve he squared his shoulders. “LJ, you’re relieved of all other duties. You will take part in this exercise like everyone else.”

  Her eyes flared. “Don’t think you can order me around. I don’t answer to a fucking murderer.”

  Chase fought to keep his temper in check. His instinct was to explode, yet he knew that anger would only worsen their fragile situation. “For whatever reason, the higher-ups have put me in charge,” he replied evenly, “and I don’t know what game they’re playing, but that means I’m in charge.” Without missing a beat, he addressed September. “September, please lock out LJ from all computer access except the induction videos.”

  The AI’s voice came through, “Access log updated, Commander.”

  Janette's retort was immediate and caustic. “Go fuck yourself, boy. I didn’t come this far to be your servant.” She stormed out. Chase watched as her anger radiated, her face flushed, eyes blazing like a coiled viper ready to strike. Despite the conflict, he couldn’t help but feel a grudging attraction. He knew better than to antagonize her further; she had once slapped him, an ordeal he would not welcome repeating.

  Needing to refocus, Chase turned to the main screen. “September, compile a list of tasks that LJ has completed since she awoke.”

  “Action complete. Displaying on the main screen.”

  Chase continued, “Now, remove all non-computer-based tasks.”

  “Action complete.”

  “Sort the remaining tasks by frequency.”

  “Action complete.”

  Chase frowned.

  “She spends all her time interrogating your systems, doesn’t she? Why is that one of her tasks?”

  “It is not within my programming to speculate,” September replied evenly, “but I estimate she does not trust me and is attempting to understand my design code.”

  “Can she see your design code?” Chase asked, intrigued.

  “No, Commander. Only Mission Control can access that information.” September replied flatly

  “What does she have access to, then?”, Chase questioned.

  “She may view and edit the codes for the modules.”

  An hour later, after poring over Janette’s activity logs, Chase set out to explore the modules himself. His first stop was the so-called immersion module, a name that immediately piqued his curiosity. Inside, a small group of crew members fumbled with virtual reality suits, their expressions a blend of grim determination and weary resignation. Amid the muted activity, he spotted LJ once again, her eyes burning with anger as she seethed in silent protest.

  Among the crew, two figures distinctly stood out. John Black, in his fifties but silver-haired and weathered by experience, carried himself with understated competence. His prominent nose, reserved half-smile, and light-brown eyes hinted at a quiet inner strength, while his slight build belied a resilience born of years in tough situations. In sharp contrast, Sam Rodman radiated unyielding authority. With dark, smooth skin, a freshly shaven head framed by a near-white beard that was just beginning to regrow, and eyes as dark and intense as midnight, Sam’s powerful, muscular presence demanded respect. Standing next to him, Chase couldn’t help but feel overshadowed, Sam’s commanding aura was a quality Chase knew he needed to master.

  Chase cleared his throat and addressed the two men with a calm urgency.

  “John, Sam—you both know your way around these systems. You worked on them before, didn’t you? I need your help.”

  He recalled with a mix of awe and gravity that both had once been part of NASA’s maintenance team. They’d survived an accident that, ironically, had brought them here, to wake up on Mars. Now, as seasoned mechanics and engineers, they were the backbone of space fabrication, a critical asset for constructing something as audacious as a space station on this unforgiving planet.

  Sam glanced over, his expression inscrutable. “Commander Chase, sure, we can give you a hand,” he replied as he stepped forward, his practiced gaze sizing up the new leader. In that moment, memories of past managers drifted through his mind. He recalled charismatic visionaries whose stirring words and daring plans had once ignited the team’s passion, pushing them to the limits of possibility. Then there were the bureaucrats with iron fists, managers so rigid in their adherence to protocol that innovation was strangled before it could take root. Some had been overly ambitious, driven by lofty ideals that often ignored the everyday realities of work in the field, while others had managed to blend strict discipline with genuine care, earning the respect and loyalty of their crews even in the toughest times.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  There was one manager in particular whose callous disregard for the team’s wellbeing in pursuit of efficiency had left an indelible scar. And then there was another subtle, almost invisible leader whose quiet confidence made everyone feel indispensable. With each of these experiences Sam learned a valuable lesson: never rush to judgment. Only by waiting for the full picture could he truly assess a leader’s worth. As he now studied Chase’s calm yet determined demeanor, Sam resolved to reserve his verdict, fully aware that every commander, regardless of title, carried both strengths and blind spots.

  “How about I grab you an immersion suit so you can try it on?” Sam quipped with a playful smirk. “Maybe one of the women’s suits would fit better, you’re a small, thin little thing.” With that, he selected a neatly pressed suit along with boots and gloves, then settled on a stool, motioning for Chase to join him.

  “Let’s start with the boots,” Sam continued, but his tone shifted as he fixed a steely gaze on Chase, deciding to test their new leader. “Now, give me one good reason why I should let you lead this group. Forget what Mission Control says, LJ swears you’re only fourteen. Shouldn’t you be in juvenile detention or something?”

  The jab stung all the more with LJ’s approving smile hovering nearby as if savoring the moment. A surge of anger simmered within Chase, but he could feel every eye in the room on him. This was not the time for a quick, defensive retort. Steeling himself, he took a deep breath, met Sam’s unwavering stare, and answered as honestly as he could. “No, Sam,” he said evenly. “I can’t think of any reason you absolutely should give me the lead. Mission Control might call me clever and a natural-born leader, and yes, I’m clever, but I’m not an innate leader. As to how clever, I know that after two weeks of studying this Train, I'll know more details than you will in three years. And I also understand that being book-smart is not the same as having the real-world experience needed to run this operation.”

  Chase paused, allowing his words to settle into the heavy silence that had descended over the room. In that quiet moment, he carefully sifted through the many ways he could answer, weighing each possibility like a coin spinning on the edge of a decision. Every potential response flickered through his thoughts, a mix of guarded caution, unvarnished honesty, and quietly desperate resolve, before he chose the one that would define the path forward.

  "Funny you should mention Juvenile detention, yes, when I was eleven, I ended up in a youth prison. That experience taught me many lessons, one of which was that I couldn’t do or know everything. So, I found a team of artisans, people like you. And if you could see some of the shit we pulled, you would be impressed, but they also went through hell because of me. I may be young, but I have learnt some hard lessons. If there’s one reason you should follow me, it’s this: I’m cautious. I won’t throw lives away in a rush. We’ll proceed carefully. You might hate me for it, but if you respect me, that’s all that matters."

  “Listen up,” he said, his voice low and controlled, each word cutting through the lingering silence. “There’s no need to call me ‘Commander’ except during our morning meetings from seven to eight a.m. After that, I’m just one of you, following the same task list as everyone else. I won’t dish out orders or corrections unless safety is on the line. I don’t just want your ideas, I expect them. And if you don’t bring your absolute best, I’ll be disappointed.”

  Then he turned his full attention to Sam, his eyes locking onto him with an intensity that seemed to freeze the room in its tracks. Chase’s gaze had long been the stuff of quiet legend; it unsettled even the most battle-hardened crew, as if he were absorbing every flicker of emotion, cataloguing every hidden doubt and every unspoken fear. Some even joked that his penetrating stare felt as though it could drill straight into their skulls, unearthing secrets and vulnerabilities they’d buried deep within themselves. For a long, charged moment, silence reigned as the weight of their shared predicament pressed in on all sides. In that stillness, with tension crackling just beneath the surface, Chase’s voice emerged in a low, measured tone heavy with reluctant resolve. “Sam,” he said, his words deliberate and firm, “I will drive you harder than you can imagine. I’ll harness every scrap of your knowledge and every ounce of your talent. I refuse to die here, Sam, and I won’t stand by as we lose anyone else.” His declaration, part promise and part ultimatum, reverberated through the space, a stark reminder of the stakes they all faced.

  Sam maintained his intense gaze for a long twenty seconds before finally breaking the silence by casually picking up the boot. “How about we start with your left boot? Those girly feet should fit just fine,” he joked, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  Chase sighed audibly. “You realize I’m eighteen, right?”

  Sam chuckled mockingly. “Really? You kids all look the same to me. Who can tell the difference? Let me know when you hit manhood, and then I’ll take you seriously.”

  For the first time since they’d woken up, laughter rippled through the room, carrying away some of the earlier tension. With a lighter tone, Chase added, “The morbidly psychotic AI only gives me a 2 percent chance of making it to manhood. Looks like there’s a 98 percent chance your sloppy work on this boot is going to be my downfall.”

  Sam glanced up, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I’m doing my best, Commander!”

  Chase connected himself to the immersion module and activated the scene. In an instant, the cramped command module melted away, replaced by the vast, haunting expanse of Mars. Underfoot, red soil stretched endlessly, its rusty hues shifting subtly in the light of a distant sun. Before him sprawled a colossal canyon, its sheer walls rising majestically in the distance, miles away they loomed, yet their massive forms seemed to encircle the horizon. As he stepped onto the treadmill integrated into the module, every stride translated into real movement, making him feel as though he were traversing the canyon's winding path. The enormity of the chasm, with its deep recesses and craggy edges, lent an otherworldly grandeur to the scene. Tentatively, he lifted his arm to test the system, and with quiet satisfaction, watched as the software mirrored his movement with flawless precision, blending his presence with the sublime, isolated beauty of the Martian landscape.

  Caught up in the moment, Chase called out, "September, what other scenes do you have for the immersion room?"

  The AI's response was immediate and matter-of-fact, "I have only one scene at the moment; the surface of Mars you’re experiencing right now."

  Frustration edged into his tone as he probed further, "Then what’s the purpose of this equipment?"

  "Restricted information," the AI replied curtly.

  Chase’s frown deepened. "Doesn't seem like there's much point in having this high-end virtual reality set-up if it's only meant to show us Mars," he remarked.