I took a deep breath, adjusting the thrusters on my suit as I floated toward the first glowing ring. The objective was simple on paper—precision flying through Zero-G. In reality, it was a nerve-wracking gauntlet of spinning obstacles, shifting gravity pockets, and the ever-present threat of penalties if you so much as grazed the edge of a ring. My palms were slick with sweat inside my gloves as I calibrated the thrusters, acutely aware of how quickly things could go wrong out here.
Kerry sailed through the first set of rings with ease, her movements smooth and practiced. She paused on the far side, turning to watch the rest of us.
“Come on, guys,” she said over the comms. “This isn’t so bad.”
“Speak for yourself,” Rob muttered, wobbling slightly as he aligned with the second ring. “I’d like to see you stay calm when a glowing circle of doom suddenly spins in your face.”
Sylvk was already through the first ring, his movements deliberate and measured. “It’s called control, Rob. You should try it sometime.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You two make this sound like rocket science. It’s just—” I pushed off toward the first ring, lining up my trajectory. The moment I hit the thruster, the suit jolted violently. Something was wrong—deeply wrong. The sensation was nothing like a normal malfunction.
<
<
“Whoa!” I shouted, spinning uncontrollably. My visor filled with a dizzying blur of lights as I tumbled backward. My heart hammered against my ribs as warning messages flashed across my HUD:
THRUSTER VECTOR MISALIGNMENT
followed by
GYRO STABILIZATION FAILURE.
“What the hell was that?” Kerry’s voice snapped over the comms.
“Suit malfunction,” I said through gritted teeth, clawing at the wrist console. I tried to regain control, but the thrusters sputtered and stuttered, sending me careening into the nearest ring. This wasn’t just embarrassing—it was dangerous. At this velocity, I could seriously injure myself or one of my teammates.
“Again?” Rob asked, concerned.
A harsh buzz echoed through the room as the penalty triggered. The edges of the ring flared red, and a loud voice boomed-
“PENALTY: 10 SECONDS.”
“Piotr!” Rob shouted. “Are you okay?”
“Working on it,” I muttered, my fingers flying over the manual controls. Error codes flashed on my HUD like a bad light show, each one more useless than the last. A cold knot formed in my stomach—this didn’t feel random. The pattern of failures was too coordinated, too precise.
<
<
External interference.
This would be a nightmare without her getting proper access. Something we really needed to work at once back on Earth.
<
What? Someone was deliberately sabotaging my suit.
I managed to stop the spin, only for the suit to lurch again. This time, it shot me sideways—straight into another ring.
Bzz. PENALTY: 15 SECONDS.
“Get it together!” Sylvk barked. “You’re lighting up the whole course like a Christmas tree!”
“No kidding!” I snapped, barely dodging a spinning obstacle. My suit jerked unpredictably, sending me toward Rob. “Look out!”
He yelped, twisting awkwardly to avoid me. “Hey! Watch it, man!”
“I’m trying!” My suit jerked again, and this time I spun straight into Sylvk’s path. He cursed, swerving hard to avoid me, only to clip the edge of a ring himself.
Bzz. PENALTY: 5 SECONDS.
“That’s it!” Sylvk snapped. “Shut it down before you take us all out!”
“I’m trying to shut it down!” I growled, slamming my fist against the wrist console. “The damn thing isn’t responding!”
I saw Kerry change course, her trajectory aligning with mine. She was trying to intercept me.
“Kerry, stay back!” I warned. “I can’t control this thing!”
“Shut up and hold still,” she replied, biting her tongue with concentration. She approached carefully, timing her movements to match my erratic spin. With precise calculation, she grabbed my arm, using her own stabilizers to slow my rotation.
“Manual override on your left hip,” she ordered. “Hit it now.”
I fumbled for the switch, finally feeling the small indentation under my fingers. The moment I pressed it, the thrusters cut completely, leaving me floating dead in space.
“Thanks,” I panted, genuinely relieved. “That was—”
My gratitude was cut short as the thrusters suddenly kicked back on at full power, sending both Kerry and me spinning violently.
“What the—” Kerry’s startled cry was cut off as we slammed into a cluster of rings.
Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. PENALTY: 30 SECONDS.
By the time we managed to stabilize, the entire team was hovering near the end of the course, watching us with a mix of concern and barely suppressed laughter.
“You done?” Sylvk asked, arms crossed as he floated near the exit.
“Maybe,” I muttered, glaring at the uncooperative wrist console. “Stupid piece of junk.” My breathing was still heavy, adrenaline coursing through my veins. That had been more than embarrassing—it had been dangerous.
Kerry floated next to me, her expression serious. “Piotr, just before your suit went haywire, I saw something weird on my HUD. A signal spike, like someone was broadcasting directly to your suit.”
I frowned, the thought settling in uncomfortably. “Could’ve been a glitch,” I said, though the memory of Andri’s smirk in the observation deck made me doubt it.
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Memories of my first encounters with Andri at the Academy flashed through my mind. The way he watched our team climbing the leaderboard. I’d thought it was simple academic jealousy then, the privileged prodigy threatened by a guy from care homes who could match his skills.
But his expressions had held something deeper than competitive anger. It was almost... fear. Like he recognized something dangerous in what I was doing.
Looking back, he flipped hot and cold all the time. From the rooftop, where he admitted he was glad I stopped the sabotage. Andri continued to watch my every move, questioning my projects, challenging my theories in front of instructors. Public hostility, private charm—a pattern that had only intensified since we’d arrived at Cali Station.
It wasn’t random. And if Andri was involved in what happened today, it wasn’t simple rivalry anymore. It was dangerous.
“That wasn’t a glitch,” Kerry insisted. “Someone targeted your systems specifically.”
<
“Glitch or not,” Rob said, grinning again, “that was the best entertainment I’ve had all day. Thanks.”
“Glad I could help,” I said dryly, pushing off toward the exit. “Let’s move on before this stupid suit decides to embarrass me again.” Or worse, I thought silently. Next time, someone could get seriously hurt.
As the door to the next room slid open, Sylvk shot me a pointed look. “You’d better get that thing fixed. If you take me out again, I’m shoving you into a drone.”
“Noted,” I replied, rolling my eyes, but I couldn’t shake the unease. Someone had deliberately sabotaged my suit. The question was who—and why.
“Debrief,” came through our main comms. “Follow the red line to the next room.”
We exchanged glances then followed the instructions.
The door ahead opened into a small debriefing area—a stark contrast to the chaos of the ring room. The space had padded walls, floating seats tethered to the floor, and a hydration station glowing faintly in the corner. The sterile scent of recycled air mixed with the metallic tang of cooling systems created an atmosphere of clinical efficiency.
Major Kuba was already there, arms crossed, her expression unreadable as she watched us file in. Her dark eyes seemed to linger on me a moment longer than the others, and I could feel the heat of her scrutiny.
“Sit,” she said sharply cutting through the lingering buzz of comm chatter. We all grabbed seats, some more gracefully than others. Rob’s attempt at a smooth landing ended in an unintentional spin, which earned him a snort from Sylvk.
“Good effort,” he muttered.
“Shut up,” he replied, though his grin suggested he wasn’t too bothered.
Kuba stepped forward, her boots clicking softly against the floor. “Well,” she began, “that was… something.”
“‘Something’ is one word for it,” Sylvk muttered under his breath.
Kuba’s gaze snapped to him. “Care to elaborate, Sylvk?”
Sylvk sat straighter, his expression schooled into neutrality. “No, ma’am. Just admiring the creative chaos.”
Kuba turned her attention to me. “Piotr.”
I straightened, my mouth dry. “Yes, ma’am?”
“You want to explain what happened out there? Because from where I was sitting, it looked like you were trying to reenact a Zero-G demolition derby.”
“I—” I hesitated, glancing at the others. Kerry’s expression had turned serious, Rob gave me a sympathetic wince, and Sylvk’s face was unreadable. “It was a suit malfunction, ma’am. The thrusters started misfiring, and I couldn’t regain control.”
Kuba’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Malfunction?” she repeated, making it clear she wasn’t entirely convinced. “And when was the last time you ran a full diagnostic on your suit?”
“Before we left for the station, and today’s exercises,” I said, despite the nagging doubt creeping in. “Everything was fine during pre-check.”
“Fine doesn’t cut it,” she quipped. “Fine gets people killed. You’re responsible for that suit, Piotr. It’s not just equipment; it’s your lifeline. If it fails, you fail.”
There was something in her eyes—concern beneath the professional discipline. A flicker of the friend I knew behind the commanding officer.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, swallowing my frustration. “I’ll run another diagnostic before the next round.”
“You’ll do more than that,” she replied, stepping closer. “I want a full report on the malfunction by the end of the day. Root cause, repair steps, and preventive measures. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, feeling a mix of embarrassment and determination.
Major Kuba nodded once, then turned to address the rest of the team. “The rest of you—good work. But don’t let Piotr’s little display fool you into thinking mistakes don’t have consequences. Out there, there’s no room for error. You either succeed together, or you all fail.”
She paused, her gaze sweeping over us once more. “And if anyone knows anything about why a perfectly functional suit would suddenly malfunction like that... my door is open.”
The implication hung in the air between us. She suspected sabotage too.
Sylvk raised a hand. “Permission to request Piotr not parkour into my path next time?”
A flicker of amusement crossed Kuba’s face, then in a flas it was gone. “Granted. But keep the attitude in check, Sylvk. This isn’t a comedy club.”
Sylvk’s smirk didn’t falter, but he nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Major Kuba’s gaze swept over us one last time, though she hesitated on me, and I saw the flicker of my friend, not the Major. “It’s lunch time. Hydrate, recalibrate, and be ready for the next challenge. Dismissed.”
As she left, the tension in the room eased slightly. Rob floated over to the hydration station, grabbing a drink and tossing one to me. “Rough debrief, huh?”
“Could’ve been worse,” I muttered, cracking the seal on the hydration pack. “At least she didn’t boot me out of the rotation.”
“Yet,” Kerry said, leaning back in her seat. “You’re one malfunction away from wearing the ‘Liability of the Day’ badge.” Despite her teasing tone, her eyes remained serious. She believed someone had sabotaged me, and that knowledge sat between us like a third presence.
Sylvk chuckled. “Oh, come on. He’s always been our favorite newb walking disaster. No point changing that now.”
I rolled my eyes, but a grin tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Glad to know I’ve got your support.”
“You do,” Rob said, raising his drink like a toast. “We’ll even write ‘Our Favorite Walking Disaster’ on your helmet for the next round.”
“Generous,” I said dryly.
Kerry sobered slightly. “Seriously, Piotr. I’m not just guessing about this. Just before your thrusters went haywire, my suit picked up an anomalous signal. Someone was broadcasting directly to your systems.”
I hesitated, the memory of Andri’s smug face flashing through my mind. “I know,” I admitted quietly. “I confirmed it. Someone deliberately interfered with my suit.”
“Who would do that?” Rob asked, his usual humor fading.
I shook my head. “I have my suspicions, but no proof. Not yet.”
“You’d better find some,” Sylvk said, his expression grim. “Because if it happens again, and someone gets hurt for real...”
“I’ll make it up to you,” I interrupted with a grim determination. “By finding who’s responsible.”
“You’d better,” he said, his expression softening. “We’ve got your back, but we need to know what we’re up against.”
The break room bathed in warm light and stocked with refreshments floating in magnetic trays. A handful of chairs hovered around a low, circular table. It was a stark contrast to the high-stakes chaos we’d left behind.
Rob was the first to grab a drink, snagging a pouch of what looked like some kind of juice. “Cheers to us,” he said, raising it high. “The finest Zero-G acrobats this side of the galaxy.”
Kerry snorted, plucking a drink from the tray as she floated past. “Speak for yourself. Some of us actually have grace.”
Sylvk grunted, leaning back in one of the chairs and kicking his boots up onto the edge of the table. “Grace doesn’t mean much when your partner keeps getting reset,” he said, shooting a smirk at Rob.
“Hey!” Rob protested, gesturing wildly with his drink. “I made it through eventually.”
“Eventually isn’t the word I’d use,” Sylvk quipped.
I couldn’t help but laugh as I sank into a chair, peeling off my gloves. “Alright, enough. We made it through, and that’s what counts. Everyone’s still in one piece—more or less.”
“Barely,” Kerry said, raising an eyebrow at me. “You almost got roasted by that light barrier at the end.”
“Almost,” I replied with a grin. “Key word there.”
Rob tapped his drink against mine, nodding approvingly. “Not bad for a guy whose suit tried to kill him earlier.”
“Thanks, Rob,” I said dryly. “Your faith in me is overwhelming.”
Sylvk leaned forward, his smirk fading slightly. “Speaking of which, you really need to figure out what happened with that suit. Glitch or sabotage, we can’t have it happening again. Next time, it could be worse than just penalties.”
The room grew quieter for a moment. Kerry finally broke the silence with a playful shove to my shoulder. “Don’t go all broody on us. We survived both tests. Celebrate first, then brood.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Noted. I’ll save the brooding for later.”
Sylvk raised his drink slightly. “Here’s to surviving—and to Piotr not crashing into me next time.”
“Cheers to that,” Kerry said, clinking her drink against his.
“Cheers,” Rob echoed, adding his to the mix.
I held up my drink, a grin spreading across my face. “Cheers,” I said, clinking my pouch against theirs.
For a brief moment, everything felt light—like we were a group of friends sharing a laugh instead of a team navigating high-pressure challenges on a floating city in space. The camaraderie was real, and it was moments like this that reminded me why I trusted these people, flaws and all.
But as the others began drifting into more lighthearted banter, I felt a tug of focus pulling me back. The memory of the suit’s erratic behavior and Andri’s smirk in the observation deck lingered at the edges of my thoughts, like an itch I couldn’t scratch.
<
<
<
That was all I needed to hear. As the team’s laughter echoed around the room, I stood, stretching and slipping my gloves back on.
“Where’re you off to?” Rob asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Got some digging to do,” I said. “That suit isn’t going to fix itself and I want to know—why.”
Sylvk nodded approvingly. “Good. Let us know if you need backup.”
Kerry watched me with knowing eyes. “Don’t get yourself into trouble, Piotr. Some systems aren’t meant to be tinkered with.” Her words carried a warning beneath the friendly tone.
“I’ll manage. Enjoy the lunch, guys, I’ll see you later, yeah?”
“We’re going to explore the station, maybe find a bar for some ‘none alcoholic drinks’ and fun.”
“That sounds good,” I said. “I’ll comm you to see where you are.”
With that, I left the room, the lingering warmth of our camaraderie with me as I made my way out, searching for the one person I knew I had to talk to.
Andri might think he was clever, but he’d made a mistake. I knew his signature now, and I wasn’t about to let him get away with putting my team at risk. Something wasn’t right. And I wasn’t about to leave it unanswered.