On the wind-swirled cliffs of Starport Glathia, nestled between the oceans of Jortant 695, three teenagers stood gazing at the glowing spacecraft docked in Bay 9. Noah, the sharp-minded yet slightly oblivious boy with a mop of wild black curls, was holding an old, dusty map. Jay, energetic and perpetually eating dried fruit, paced nervously. Mia, tall with striking silver eyes and a knack for sarcasm, leaned against a crate.
"So you're absolutely sure this is the ship to Jortant?" Mia asked, raising a brow.
"Yes," Noah replied, confidently yet with a faint tremble of doubt. "The guy at the booth said Gate 9. We're at Gate 9. Simple math."
"That guy was literally selling fried algae sticks," Jay muttered.
As the countdown began and the ship's ramp started closing, they bolted aboard. Five minutes later, their fate was sealed.