The interior of the Chronos had turned into a beehive. If the coffee hadn't managed to rob them of their sleep, this arm had. There was no time to lose. Max put on his full uniform. Trousers and jacket in Prussian blue with bck shoulder pads and a pair of military boots. They only wore it when the ship was in port or when it was taking off. Rarely did the entire captain's entourage have to report to the bridge. That meant things were serious.

  As Max struggled to get his boots on, he wondered when Naomi had got dressed so quickly. Unlike him, she was wearing a loose purple V—neck jumpsuit with white slip—on shoes, typical of the ship's medical staff. Even the dark circles under her eyes had faded. Max continued to struggle with the ces of his right boot. The same arm went off again. It had gone off three times already, and Sawatari's message repeated itself insistently.

  —. What the hell is Matkovich thinking? — Max asked —. Is he thinking about an early take off or what?. There are still passengers awake. —

  —. Maybe the fact that there is a quarantine in Lohengrin. Something must have changed. The crew is as confused as we are. —

  Max fell silent. Then the crew knew little. He decided to check his RED. He checked the bridge officers' group chat, and almost all the questions were about confusion. "What the hell is going on?" Sawatari repeated; "I'm sorry guys, all I can tell you is to report to the bridge at the appointed time. The Captain will give you the information in due time". Some of the crew tagged Max and bombarded him with questions. It was assumed that, as second in command, he must know something. This was not the case. In the deck chiefs' chat, the story was the same. The idea of an early start seemed ridiculous to everyone.

  But then Max realised. The quarantine in Lohengrin had never had an official expnation. It was just the satellites repeating the same message over and over again. No ship will nd on the pnet. No one takes off. Starscrapers entering the system must return the way they came, until the crisis is over. And the reports from the colonists themselves were equally confusing.

  Governor Tafoya insisted on the official version. A variant of the Grey Pgue that had appeared in Lacaille 8760, affecting only organic hosts. It had supposedly been successfully isoted, but they preferred to maintain quarantine as a precaution. The unofficial leaks were far from reality. What reached the ears of the crew only exacerbated the previous events.

  The colonists had nightmares about fireflies. Some saw them while awake. These bugs ate their heads, and there was no further news of those who saw them. They were surely executed. Whether Tafoya was telling the truth or lying, they had no way of knowing. The blockade included communications, and they had to accept the official version. Whether it was the grey pgue or something completely alien were equally frightening possibilities. Whatever was happening on the colony, it was something bad.

  His jacket nded abruptly on his face and pulled him out of that reverie.

  —. Don't fall asleep. — Naomi told him. Max made a gesture to thank her and immediately wrapped himself with her. While buttoning it up, with unconscious movements, he began to check the pockets of the jacket for the Joey Jims.

  —. Where did I leave them...? – he managed to stammer when someone knocked on the door. A rhythmic knock, but one that conveyed a sense of urgency. For Max and Naomi, that pattern was unmistakable, and when she hurried to open, they were right. Chief of Security Daniel Harding.

  A middle-aged man who certainly had a muscur past, but now had a beer gut. He looked like a barrel with huge arms stuffed into a green bubble uniform with a bck tactical vest. A broad nose protruded from his chubby face, his cheeks were as red as a brick, and the whiskers of his beard were bleached by nicotine. His brown hair was turning grey at the temples, and his small blue eyes scanned every corner like a hawk.

  —. Naomi. — he greeted her with a very earthly nod, and stepped forward into their cabin, stretching his head as if he were looking for something.

  —. Matkovich is biting his nails on the bridge, Max. Move your ass. — he said in a commanding tone, although it betrayed some apprehension. Max made a gesture with his hands, emphatic and almost sign nguage; I heard you, but instead of leaving the cabin, he continued to insist on looking for something. Until he found them. The cigarettes were on the balcony table. He tucked them into his chest pocket as if they were the most precious treasure. Naomi rolled her eyes.

  —. Max smokes because of you. — Naomi reprimanded him. The chief let out a hearty ugh.

  —. Like father, like son. — he joked. When he saw Max trotting towards the door, he made a quick gesture with his hands; hurry up. Max smiled tiredly, and before he could cross the threshold, the Chief forced him to greet him with a handshake and a hug. Then he patted him on the shoulder and the three of them stepped out into the corridor.

  There they found chaos. The crew were emerging from their cabins, caught between sleep and confusion. Yawns were part of the symphony, along with questions, the buzzing of alerts on the DERs and their HoloPads, and Sawatari's message on the intercom, repeated over and over. Some questions were addressed directly to Max.

  —. What’s going on, XO? – but Max shrugged, although it was more of a gesture with his hands and arms.

  —. The captain will inform you in due time. — he replied while striding forward. His response was lost in the constant murmur that had taken over the entire module. As discreetly as he could, he lowered his head and approached Harding —. Hey, seriously, what’s going on? – Harding furrowed his brow and shook his head.

  —. Kiddo, I don’t know how you ended up being First Officer. — he sneered, though there was no malice in it. A message appeared on his RED, followed by a bell that set his HoloPad ringing. —. Here. It’s the captain’s preliminary report. It was actually drafted by your co–pilot, but it’s what we have for now. I’d recommend taking a look. —

  —. I’ll read it on the tram on the way to the bridge. —

  —. I suggest you do it right now. — Harding replied —. It’s updating in real–time. You better be well–informed because the old man will want your opinion. — and as Harding said this, a new notification appeared. The report had undergone a modification just a few seconds ago.

  —. Fine. I’ll do it. Thanks, Harding. —

  —. I’ve got your back. — he replied —. And thank EREBUS too, who knows you don’t read your emails and forwards them to me. —

  —. Sure. I’ll buy him a few beers. — Max joked.

  The trio and the crew crowded into the lift to go down to the monorail station, deep inside the living module. A rectangur box, eight meters high, with two parallel ptforms where the transport cars arrived, one moving clockwise and the other counterclockwise. A rge part of the newly awakened crew had gathered there. A colourful mix of uniforms. Prussian blue and military of the bridge officers. Bck and red overalls from Engineering. Yellow from OPS. Purple from Medical. White and green from Hydroponics and Biobs. And so on.

  —. Everyone step aside from the ramp. There’s urgency, but we don’t want accidents. Everyone will arrive at their workstations on time. — Harding called out in a calm voice, raising his hands in an emphatic gesture. Without questioning it, the crew silently obey, like sheep in a flock. No one doubted his authority. More than the chief of security, Harding was like an old-time sheriff. The Chronos was his wild west town, and the crew, the townsfolk. Harding seemed to believe that role himself.

  Even among the three, Max's silhouette was the most imposing. Unlike Harding, he had been shaped by the low gravity of Callisto, and stood a nky two and a half metres tall, with an elongated torso and limbs. A rge Greek nose protruded from his chiseled face, and his hair was short, bck like crows', with a few rebellious strands. As he studied the screen, his grey eyes narrowed and his thick eyebrows furrowed as he tried to digest the information.

  —. Given the complications of the situation, and the worsening of the quarantine in the colony, the captain orders full duty for the entire crew, so that it is appropriate to leave the orbit of Lohengrin and head back to Solsys as soon as possible. —

  He felt his chest sink when he understood what he was reading, and turned to Harding.

  —. What do you mean we’re leaving? – he muttered. In a low voice, enough not to alert the rest, but loud enough for Harding to hear him.

  —. You’re catching me by surprise, kid. I just passed you the report... — and then, a torrent of notifications began to resonate through the station. The faces of astonishment began to show one by one, and everyone started turning to the first officer for answers.

  —. The situation has worsened in the colony. We can’t risk bringing the passengers down. Captain’s orders. — that was what Max replied, his voice rising above the whispers. Although deep down, a feeling of unease was forming in his gut. Something had changed, and he still didn’t know what.

  —. Well, it’s confirmed. — the chief of security observed to himself, putting his HoloPad away in his pocket.

  —. It’s true. — Naomi added —. Chief Echmann just ordered the medical staff to prepare all the cryopods only for the awake passengers and return them to hypersleep. We’re leaving the system. —

  Then Max looked down again, trying to hide the astonishment that was drawn on his face with a mask of stoicism. But his throat closing along with a wave of cold sweat prevented him. The report seemed to raise more questions than answers.

  —. Here it says there were shootings in different districts of the colony. Tafoya was supposed to have said everything was in order. —

  —. She was probably lying. — Harding replied —. It seems obvious that the government was trying to hide something. This quarantine, then those damn fireflies in dreams, I think they’re reted, to be honest? It seems alien. —

  And the chatter of the crew seemed to stop with that statement. But it was only a feeling. Suddenly Max felt everything spinning, and the sudden awareness of the habitat's drum only made it worse.

  Ironically, his body craved a cigarette, but smoking was not allowed on the station. He couldn't deny it; something truly alive would be impressive. A sudden vision of the forest from his nightmares forced him to open his eyes. The metallic and utilitarian walls had suddenly become oppressive, as if closing in around him. The brightness of the lights, which tried to imitate the sun, only added to the sense of confinement.

  —. Hey, are you okay? – Harding's voice startled him —. You look a bit anxious. Can’t you hold off for another cigarette? – Max snorted a ugh, accepting the joke. In reality, it would be fine. Although it would be good to think about quitting. When they reached Mars, he wouldn’t touch one ever again —. That’s not it, is it? – the chief inquired, suddenly regaining seriousness, like a father talking to his son.

  —. I feel like everything is turning upside down. — he confessed, staring into nothingness —. All this time, nothing had really gone wrong aboard Chronos. We had some crises, but nothing insurmountable. Now, I don’t know. I have a horrible feeling. — upon hearing this, Naomi, who seemed absent from the conversation, took his hand, and her fingers intertwined with his. Harding nodded slowly, as if mulling over those words.

  —. I’ve been on this ship longer than you, kid. — he commented —. And let me tell you. We’ve all gone through that same shit. Even the captain. — Max raised an eyebrow. He thought he didn’t understand —. However, these crises are nothing more than tests. This way, you can see what you’re made of. — Max opened his mouth to say something, but Harding interrupted him —. You must have nerves of steel. That’s all I’m telling you. I know we’re going home with our tails between our legs. It’s the first time the Chronos won’t fulfill its mission. It’s due to force majeure, but the Guild’s reprimand won’t be taken away from us by anyone. —

  —. I think that... —

  —. And yet. — Harding continued —. The captain will face the shitstorm. He’ll take it like a champ. And before we know it, he’ll be back at the helm of Chronos, ready for the next mission. I want you to be like that when you’re captain. —

  —. I don’t want to be captain. — Max interrupted him as if Harding had said a sacrilege. The chief's reaction was pure surprise.

  —. What do you mean you don’t? – he questioned, with an incredulous smile —. You’re second in command, the youngest the ship has ever had. Matkovich trusts you. The crew trusts you. If anyone deserves that position, it’s you. Because come on, what other options are there? Galloway? He’s too much of a brown–noser, and the captain knows it. Daimonji? Maybe, but it’s obvious he’s desperate for the charge. That’s why he keeps him in engineering all the time. —

  —. And what about you? – Harding let out a loud ugh, as if he had told him a joke.

  —. Hey, I’m old, but that position is unthinkable for me. I’m not part of the captain’s entourage. You, on the other hand, are. Just being the sheriff of this ship until my death is enough for me. — and he kept nodding, as if he were proud of his words. But a hint of sadness filtered into his gssy eyes. He had that expression since Max met him, but he had never asked what it was about. He was going to do it. But Harding beat him to it —. Why did that idea get into your head? – he interrogated —. About not wanting to be captain. —

  —. How am I going to be captain if I don’t want to stay? – he asked back.

  —. Stay where? – Harding insisted —. Here standing in the station? In your cabin? On the bridge? – he seemed not to understand, but Max was sure he did. Naomi held his hand tighter.

  —. Here on the Chronos. — he replied, avoiding his gaze. Harding stared into nothingness with a poker face. Max let out a heavy sigh —. Returning to Solsys, Naomi and I will leave the crew. We’ll stay on Mars with my sister for a while and then see how to make our lives. —

  —. Tell me, Max, how many trips have you made aboard? – he asked.

  —. I don’t get it. —

  —. Just answer me, how many trips have you made aboard? – he insisted. Max remained silent, squinting his eyes.

  —. With this one, it’s nine. — Harding let out a ugh.

  —. Kid, you’re not leaving from here. — he decred.

  —. Ludya had 8 and left the crew anyway. — he tried to defend himself, to which the chief shook his head.

  —. The Chronos was undergoing repairs back then. — Harding added —. She had two years to think about it. She started to build a life outside the ship, unlike all of us. You and Naomi could have done the same. Sorry to say it, but I think deep down you wanted to stay, why? – Max knew the answer. Since he joined the crew, the timed routine, the resource cycle, gave him certainty. Outside the ship, reality was chaotic, and starting a bnk page sounded like an absolute leap. He said nothing.

  —. We’ll manage. — Naomi jumped to his defense.

  —. That sounds nice. Quite idealistic. But the sor system we leave behind won’t be the same when we come back. Things could be upside down, or not. It’s a shot in the dark, and 30 years is a whole life, haven’t you thought of it that way? – Naomi seemed to want to say something, but there were no words. Instead, she looked down and folded her arms.

  And for Max there was another reason. He had promised Lay that they would always be together. Looking into nothingness, the images of that damned forest, of her getting lost in the darkness, and those damned fireflies. He clenched his knuckles until they were white and tapped his thumb incessantly. For a few moments, the mission faded into the background. He just wanted to get back to the sor system and make sure she was OK. A screech from the monorail shaft announced its imminent arrival.

  —. Think carefully about what you’ll do. — Harding told him, apprehensive. Max nodded quickly, avoiding eye contact —. You’ll have a year to think it over in total. — it sounded little, but the speed of light was an insurmountable barrier. A year to reach her. 13 years frozen while the ship turned into a projectile. They would wake up, and then, another year slowing down. Max’s fingers drummed.

  —. I’ll keep that in mind. — he hurried to say, and took a step forward as the monorail car appeared and slowly stopped at the ptform. Harding pced his heavy hand on his shoulder.

  —. Hey. — Max was forced to turn around, looking down at him —. Whatever you do with Naomi, whether you stay or leave the crew, I’ll support it. Just let me know in advance. I’ll try to convince the captain that Daimonji is a good candidate. — Max gave up and managed to let out a ugh, pretending to rex.

  —. Thank you, Harding. — they said goodbye with a hug.

  —. But don’t tell me today or tomorrow. — the old man said as he stepped back —. When we’re out of orbit, then you can tell me. — Max raised his hand and two fingers with an emphatic gesture; it’s fine, while with the crew they went through the door of the car and crowded inside —. And read the report! – he insisted before the doors closed. He had three stations to do it. He was checking his HoloPad when he heard Harding’s voice barking muffled by the walls.

  —. Hey, Lexner! Pick up that fuckin gum and throw it in the recycler! Or I’ll make you shove it up your ass. — Max couldn’t suppress a ugh along with the rest of the crew —. The trash goes where it belongs, for fuck sake! —

  —. I’m sorry, chief, it won’t happen again. — the corporal replied hurriedly, his tone betraying an unspoken apology. With a jolt, the monorail car began to move, swiftly advancing toward its destination, in complete darkness. The same darkness in which the Chronos, in a few hours, would be completely submerged. The only light would be from those fireflies, consuming every memory, and invading every corner with their dim and insidious glow.