The silence was suffocating, yet Atlas Kael clung to it like a lifeline.
Every beep of the console, every flicker of the emergency lights was a reminder he was still alive still fighting. And in this brutal emptiness, hope was his only weapon.
He sat in the cockpit, legs drawn up to his chest, staring at the small holo-screen playing old messages from Earth. Voices filled the cramped space news briefings, family greetings, recorded interviews.
The sound of humanity beyond the cold void.
His fingers hovered over the controls, hesitating, before pressing play again.
A woman's voice crackled softly through the speakers. "to all those out there, beyond the stars, keep holding on. Help is coming."
Atlas lips twitched into a faint smile. He didn't know who the woman was but her words, it makes you feel better.
"I'm not alone," he whispered.
The hum of EVA's processors filled the space between these fleeting moments of connection.
The A.I. had grown more than a sterile program she was a presence, a reminder that even in silence, there was company.
Atlas stretched his cramped legs and rose, pacing slowly as he surveyed the ship's systems.
Each gauge, each readout was a harsh reminder of his dwindling resources but he refused to let that define him.
"I will not be forgotten," he said aloud, voice steady but laced with fragile determination.
He returned to the pilot's chair and tapped a few commands, sending out another burst of the distress signal into the endless night.
The beacon pulsed weakly, a tiny flare against the vast darkness.
He looked up at the viewport, eyes searching the starless void for any sign any flicker of life, any sign of rescue.
"Somewhere out there... someone will see this. Someone will come."
And with that, Atlas Kael let himself believe in a future beyond this drifting nightmare, a future where hope was more than just a fragile ember it was a fire waiting to be reignited.