Chapter 3 — The Journey towards Marinagua

Bohdie sips the tea, letting its heat and rejuvenating power wash through him. Unlike Wilbur, Bohdie is not tired and wants to go back out and finish the job. "Honestly, Doc, I’m fine. But I don’t like leaving a job half done. I’d like to finish this tea and then suit back up and finish up."

Virel remained at the airlock watching through the external feeds as Ruiha forced her way across the ice. To anyone nearby, he showed no reaction beyond a rigid stillness with his eyes fixed in absolute attention.

Inside, the relief came slow and quiet. Ruiha was enough. He acknowledged that without ceremony. If the order had come, he would have gone but as he watched her move with practiced certainty, a question surfaced that he hadn’t asked himself in some time. Whether he was still meant for that type of work.

When Wilber and Bohdie were brought back inside, Virel followed at a distance, unobtrusive. He waited in the lounge until Doctor Shone delivered his assessment.

He gave a single nod then turned away. His next stop was Engineering and hear it from Chaala how refuelling was going.

Journey to the Seital System

Four hours later, the last of the fuel transfer completes with a muted chime through the Azure Voyager’s engineering spaces. Valves seal. Hoses retract. The ship eases free of its temporary lifeline and drifts clear, engines idling at standby.

Captain Halsson wastes no time.

"Bring us up," she orders calmly.

The Azure Voyager lifts off from the Touxilay system’s quiet gravity well and begins a slow, deliberate sweep. Military-grade sensors bloom outward—tight, disciplined cones probing shadowed orbits, cold Lagrange points, and the dead space where transponders sometimes choose not to speak.

For several long minutes, the bridge is silent save for the low murmur of systems and the occasional soft tone as scans resolve.

Nothing.

No active emissions, outside of the planetwide searches among the different factions on Touxilay surface and atmosphere.
No passive signatures that don’t belong.
No ghost contacts, no sensor echoes that linger a fraction too long.

With the system declared clear, Halsson nods once.
"Set course for the hundred-diameter limit."

The Azure Voyager accelerates, the planets of the system shrinking behind them as distance grows measured and precise. Crew and Ironhand contractors feel the familiar pressure settle in—the quiet moment before a jump, when routines are checked and rechecked, and everyone privately counts the ways things can go wrong.

They reach the jump point without incident.

No alarms.
No unexpected mass shadows.
No last-second warnings from the void.

"Jump solution confirmed," says Edrin, the astrogator.

Halsson rests her hand lightly on the command panel, eyes fixed ahead.
"Execute."

The lanthanum grid begins to light up at the nose and as its lite geometric patterned increases across the hull, in front space folds.

The stars smear, twist, and vanish as the Azure Voyager punches through reality and into Jump Space. The transition is smooth—almost gentle—but the deck plates hum with a tone just low enough to feel rather than hear.

The ship and everyone aboard are gone.

Another 168 hours stretch ahead, with Jump emergence plotted at day 142 of the Imperial Calendar. Another sealed bubble in Jump Space with it's own artificial gravity, recycled air, and waiting.

Behind them, Touxilay keeps its secrets.

Ahead lies Seital.

And Jump Space, as always, listens in its own quiet way.

Actions?

Skill study or other areas of study? The Skill study chart is located here

"Well, that was certainly not your standard, boring layover. In fact, I found it a welcomed change!" Bohdie's comment may have been a little too exuberant. But he doesn't appear to be embarrassed by it, either. But he is also glad to be back in J-Space. Its the down-time he needs to continue studying how people interact and how to interact and entertain others. He will also scan the ship's and his own personal electronic library for titles that may help in his endeavor. He runs into a title he has not heard before, The Great Gatsby. Unfortunately, it appears that the actual file may have been corrupted and is unreadable. So he also uses it to continue to put together the pieces of the puzzle they have been handed. He asks around about the sensor scans they took and anything else they might have learned while on the surface and in the system of Touxilay.

Wilbur sits a little apart, quieter than usual, still unsettled by the whole ordeal. Once they’re safely back aboard, he finally speaks:

"I need to get better with a vacc suit. I’m not going through that again."

Jump Transit – Seital Briefing (Hour 84)

The lounge lights dim as the holographic table activates, projecting a rotating star map that slowly resolves into a complex, three-star system. Crew and Ironhand contractors gather closer, the faint hum of Jump Space ever-present beyond the hull.

Captain Halsson stands at the head of the table.

"Alright, everyone—this is Seital."


She gestures, and the display zooms outward before settling into a wide, balanced view.

"Triple-star system," she continues. "Primary is a yellow-white dwarf, stable but bright enough to complicate sensor shadows in the inner system. Companion one is a red dwarf, low output but gravitationally noisy. The third is a white dwarf—old, dense, and not something you want to misjudge on approach."

The stars shift aside as orbital paths fade in.

"Seital has three asteroid belts. The inner belt is heavy with debris—dense, fast-moving, and useless to us. The middle belt is thinner, more dispersed. The main world—Seital itself—sits right here," she highlights a rocky planet, "between the inner and middle belts."

A brief pause.

"That world is Tech Level Five. Early petrochemical age. No starport. No orbital infrastructure. Limited surface water—about ten percent planet-wide—and what they have is tightly controlled. We will not be operating anywhere near inhabited space."

She flicks her hand outward and the map expands again.



"Beyond the outer belt is where things get interesting."

A massive blue-white sphere appears, its atmosphere tagged in warning amber.

"This is the big water world. Subsurface ocean under a global ice shell. Unfortunately, the atmosphere is corrosive—bad enough to eat seals and pit exposed systems over time. That rules it out for refueling or close operations."

The display shifts farther out, colder tones dominating.

"Past that, we have two ice worlds. Both are cold, inert, and quiet. The outermost—Seital VII, at roughly 70 astronomical units—is our target."

Seital VII enlarges, showing deep ice layers and faint atmospheric traces.


"It’s sizeable, stable, and has a very thin oxygen–nitrogen atmosphere. Not breathable, but manageable. Cold enough that nothing lives there, and far enough out that nobody cares what we’re doing."

She brings up schematics of drilling equipment.

"Refueling will be slow. We’ll be processing ice directly—auger, conveyor belt, onboard refinement. I want personnel on standby at all times during extraction. Ice fractures, mechanical jams, and thermal stress are the main risks. If something goes wrong, it’ll go wrong quietly and fast."

Halsson looks around the table, calm but unmistakably serious.

"We stay buttoned up. Minimal EVA. No heroics. This is a logistics stop, not an adventure."

She lets the hologram continue its slow rotation.

"Questions?"

Outside the lounge, Jump Space remains unchanged—but the shape of Seital is now clear in everyone’s mind: three suns, broken rock, frozen water, and a long, cold stop waiting at the edge of the dark.

As the ship enters jump and the crew lets out the traditional collective semi-held breath, Chaala congratulates the team on a job well done.

"Not without a bit of adventure, but everyone kept their heads and watched each other's backs. And a couple of you had some good old Type-2 fun."


After the captain's briefing, Chaala nods. "Seems pretty straightforward. Set down, get the refueling set up, not enough atmo to have winds like last time. Once set up, two folks ready to go if anything goes wrong. We'll all cycle through except Doc who will be in sick bay ready for anything that might go wrong."

The holographic display tightens around Seital VII, timelines and system schematics layering neatly over the rotating ice world.

Captain Halsson inclines her head slightly toward Chaala.

"First—Chaala. Good proactive thinking on setting up the EVA teams for surface operations once we land. That’s exactly the kind of forward planning I want. Thank you."

She shifts her attention back to the display.

"Refueling will take approximately thirty-two hours from first cut to usable fuel. That means continuous operations."

A chain of icons highlights the auger head, conveyor belt, and onboard processing units.

"I want a two-person rotation at all times monitoring ice intake and processing. Auger feed, conveyor alignment, flow rates—everything. Two sets of eyes, rotating regularly. Fatigue will be our biggest enemy with this process."

Halsson glances toward Amara, who gives a small nod.

"Amara will lead the operation," Halsson continues, "but shift organization will be handled by Chaala."

Amara speaks up then, her tone steady and professional.

"I’ll supervise the first eight hours of processing," she says, looking to Chaala. "Once the shifts are running smoothly, I’ll step back, get some rest, and then rejoin the rotation based on your guidance."

Chaala’s authority is clear—and uncontested.

Captain Halsson makes no comment, offering neither correction nor approval beyond a simple nod. The plan stands.

Her gaze moves to the far side of the table.

"Edrin will be included in the rotation."

Edrin straightens.
"Captain—pilots require eight hours of crew rest prior to flight operations."

Halsson answers evenly.

"And you’ll get it. If not, Ruiha can fly. And so can I."

No edge. No debate.

"This is a logistics evolution, not a hot extraction. Rested pilots fly. Unrested pilots don’t. Simple."

She turns back to Chaala.

"Once the shifts are finalized, have the EVA teams staged and ready. Cold-weather protocols apply. No one works alone. No shortcuts."

The hologram dims, leaving Seital VII rotating slowly in the center of the table.

"This will be slow," Halsson concludes. "That’s fine. Slow means controlled. Controlled means safe."

A final nod.

"Good work. Any other questions?."

Jump Space continues to hum beyond the hull—but the plan is set, the chain of command is clear, and the long, cold hours on the ice of Seital VII are already taking shape.

Bohdie has been listening and looks over to Chaala and says, "I suggest 4 hour shifts with no more than 2 hours outside for anyone. That would mean 2 people suited up and outside and two people partially suited but resting and ready to go. After 2 hours, they switch, with the two coming in partially unsuiting and taking in hot liquid but on standby to go back out if necessary. then 2 new crew will relieve them and head out and the two coming in would be on "overwatch" and so forth. Since Wilbur and I were the ones that set up last time, I volunteer to be in the first shift. We can cycle experienced with less experienced."

"As I understand the process, we don't need anyone outside once the setup is complete. So the first rotation is shortened up so we can have both inside and outside but not wear out four people too much. After that, I can handle four hour shifts. I think we've all been in the field long enough to manage that as long as we're getting good recovery time in between." Chaala largely agrees with Bohdie. "I think we can arrange the schedule so Edrin is not on the last two cycles so we're ready for liftoff as soon as processing is done. Virel, Ruiha and I have the best ratings on Vacc Suit, so want to spread us all out. Doc's got no certs and I'd rather have sick bay on standby at all times, so again no rotation. Jeem, Bohdie, Wilbur and Edrin are available to rotate as well. I'm not read in on Edrin's certs but if the Captain's including them, they're in. That gives us seven bodies, so everyone should have an opportunity to rest."

"Ruiha and Jeem, can you handle the setup? I'll take the hot standby with Edrin. Then Virel and Wilbur, then Ruiha and Bohdie. Assuming all is going well, I'll pair up with Jeem and let Edrin get fully rested and we'll just cycle through that. If anyone gets sick or otherwise unable to perform, Edrin can hop back in."

When Chaala gives them the orders Virel gives Wilbur a faint smile, "We got this."

Victor remained silently observing the discussion and listening to the plan of operation. He was not an expert on this sort of thing, but it seems it was working fine. He nodded and accepted his work and promptly went to sick bay to keep it prepped. During the week-long jump, he oriented himself with the nitty-gritty mechanics of life support engineering system. He was a qualified doctor, but he had no experience fixing life support systems of a ship. Give him instruments, and he can stitch back the slug wound or cure the inflamed liver, but he had no idea how to fix the life support systems and low berths. So, he went back to rehashing the engineering course again.

Ruiha raised her hand, much to make a point as it reached well over everyone's head!

"This maybe a small issue..." she put the emphasis on the small part "But I'm not exactly standard EVA size..."

Vacc suits were fine, it was how everything fitted on an EVA that made things uncomfortable, they never seemed to fit right, but if they found a proper setup she'd serve her shift just like anyone else

Jeem nods to the question of Chaala.

"Setup sounds fine. I agree that the mix of less and more experienced people to learn from each other is the best and fastest way to support here.

I'm not the one for fine mechanics, some hoses are more to my liking." he adds with a smirk.

With a solemn look between Halsson, Chaala and Ruiha:

"So, I'm going out with Ruiha - how long will it take us to clarify the possibility of a larger suit?"

Wilbur gives Jeem a long, flat look.
"Chaalta laid out the plan. Let’s stick to it."

He doesn’t raise his voice — he doesn’t need to.
"We don’t need confusion before we even start."

"We're aboard one of the fastest ships in in the Scout fleet, I expect everything aboard is top grade. Scouts come in all shapes and sizes and the equipment can handle them all." Chaala has a bit of nostalgia in her voice, though she says nothing about it.

"In this case, we just need environment suits for short jaunts outside, if I'm reading the situation right, and those are even more flexible than the good old Vacc Suit comma Advanced that we'll want for any extended time out, primarily for the better heaters."

Edrin exhales through his nose, arms folding loosely as he considers the rotation. "…Alright," he says at last, not quite cheerful but no longer resisting. "If I’m not on the last two cycles and I get my eight hours before liftoff, I’m good." He looks to Chaala directly. "I’ll do my time on rotation and stay hot standby when you need me. Just don’t expect me cheerful at hour twenty."
There’s a faint edge of dry humor there—acceptance, if not enthusiasm.

---

nods next, already mentally running the operation. "That works for me," she says calmly. "I’ll stay hands-on for the first eight hours—setup, calibration, initial throughput. Once the system’s stable and everyone’s in rhythm, I’ll get some rest."

She glances to Chaala, making the deference explicit. "After that, I’ll rejoin the rotation as you see fit. You’re running the shifts."

No tension. No ego. Just clean professionalism.

---

Captain Halsson lets the exchange finish before speaking. When she does, her voice is even and decisive.

"Good."

She looks around the table once more. "This is a solid plan. Four-hour shifts, limited exposure, redundancy built in. You’re thinking ahead, and you’re thinking like professionals."

Her gaze settles briefly on Ruiha. "Ruiha—if EVA fit needs adjustment, we adjust it before boots hit ice. No one goes out uncomfortable or compromised."Then back to the group as a whole. "Chaala, the rotation and pairings are yours. Amara, oversee the first eight hours as planned. Edrin, you’ll get your rest window—one way or another."

A hint of dry amusement touches her expression. "Doctor Shone—thank you for keeping sick bay hot and doing your homework. I’d prefer we don’t need you, but I’m glad you’re ready."

She straightens slightly, signaling the meeting’s close. "You’ve got my confidence. Execute the plan as discussed. If something changes, bring it up early—not after it breaks."

A final nod. "Good work. Any other concerns or additions?."

"If Ru or I can swap with someone, I have a tailored Vacc Suit and we are about the same height. I’m willing to share the suit."

T-83.5 Hours to Emergence — Jump Space

With the jump field stable and the ship’s systems humming along their familiar, reassuring rhythms, the Azure Voyager settled into the long, quiet stretch before emergence. There were no alarms, no strange harmonics in the drives—just the peculiar timelessness of jump space and the steady discipline of a crew that knew how to use it.

Across the ship, routines took hold.

Dr. Victor Shone spent long hours in sick bay, methodically preparing for whatever Seital might bring. Between inventory checks and calibration runs, he worked his way through the Azure Voyager’s life-support schematics and maintenance manuals, tracing airflow, scrubber cycles, and emergency bypasses. He wasn’t planning to become an engineer—but if something went wrong, he intended to understand enough to keep people breathing until help arrived.

In Engineering, Chaala continued her mechanical studies under Amara’s patient mentorship. Tools were stripped, reassembled, and stripped again—not because they were broken, but because repetition built confidence. Amara corrected when needed, stepped back when Chaala found the answer herself, and quietly let the lessons sink in. The ship benefited from the attention; small inefficiencies were smoothed out, vibrations dampened, tolerances tightened.

Forward of Engineering, Virel had claimed a section of the ship for vacc suit training. Wilbur and JEEM rotated through drills—donning procedures, seal checks, emergency patches, tether discipline. Virel watched closely, corrected calmly, and made sure mistakes were caught here, in jump space, rather than later on cold ice or hard vacuum. By the end of each session, movements were quicker, voices steadier, muscle memory setting in.

And tying it all together was Bohdie.

The galley stayed active, meals appeared on schedule, and the smell of real food cut through the recycled air. Between cooking, Bohdie organized light exercise, 3D holographic games, and low-key distractions that kept morale steady and tempers cool. Jump space could gnaw at people if left unchecked; Bohdie made sure it didn’t.

As the hours ticked down, the Azure Voyager felt less like a ship in transit and more like a crew sharpening itself—quietly, deliberately—before stepping back into real space.

Seital was getting closer.