None knew how or for long the alloyed hull-plating of Sitabee had resisted the immense pressure of the dark depths. In fact, none of its inhabitants even knew how far it was to the distant surface of the unending sea. On the many bookshelves lining her green-plated, metallic quarters, stood books of a history more akin to a fairy tale for one having lived a full life in the darkness. Had one picked one of those ancient tomes and read from them, she imagined it’d be unlikely she’d be able to tell whether it contained a fable or a part of their long-lost history; histories of lives lived under the radiant sun.

She sat on her bed, rubbing the slumber from her eyes when she caught sight of the mirror suspended on the metallic wall and found, again, that she did not enjoy the visage staring back at her.

For one, she had inherited her dearly missed mother’s height, but with none of her feminine grace. She had been a shapely woman - a large bosom and rounded, plump hips; neither of which the sparse nutrition would allow for. Despite having disappeared out in the dunes over a decade ago, when Luna was no older than six years old, she could still remember those details. The smoothness of her skin, the roundness of her cheeks - the gold of her hair. She rose from the bed, dragging her long legs after her to look at her skin, questioning why she had inherited her father’s pores and his dirty-blonde hair - not that he had any, these days.

She shuddered at the gauntness of her cheeks, but following a lengthy glance at the bowl of nutritional, thick mushrooms at the top of the sink, she thought the better of using her station to plump up. Why would she even want to? The men of Sitabee were already giving her more than enough attention - in fact, she briefly considered the opposite; starving herself to get some peace from those hungry eyes. Maybe then, they’d actually get some work done.

She stretched and clothed herself in her black, skin-tight thermoveralls, topping the necessary drab with a short, white, silken skirt and a red, coral-dust vest. She so hated that sound - the tearing of fabric that notified her that yet again… she would have to beg the storemaster to give her some new clothing.

Once she finished tying her hair up and successfully rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she looked back in the mirror to tell herself that today would be the day she finally broke him; that today might be the day she succeeded in securing a place on the mission.

“Let’s make this the day, girl.” She formed the triangle between her index fingers and thumbs - a ritual motion her father had taught her, for all the good it did.

“Good luck.”

Across the station, in a room lit only by a dim red, sat Commander Stellaris in what had once been a bustling command center, back when their home had supported three times as many cantons and a population to match. Now, it was a dour place, as his throne-embedded context-screen would remind him. In the last six years, the dying fusion core had forced them to abandon the life-support systems of twenty-eight cantons and with the strict quotas to maintain the vital systems, replacement-part-printing had become an expensive commodity.

Thus, countless grow-beds had been cannibalized, not that they needed all of them anymore… the waves of enteritises had seen to that. He ran a hand over his shaven scalp and leaned back on the throne, staring at the now-defunct array of screens surrounding his famished form. Five hundred or so remained of their once bustling colony, yet not one of them were capable of making the sacred machines function without the precious circuitry that had been dispersed to the grow-beds still in function.

He took a moment to mire in his miserable exhaustion. The constant prioritizing and reprioritizing had worn on him. It was hard not to take it to heart, when the colony had run impeccably for what had been assumed to be thousands of years, only to fall into this disheveled state. Naturally, it had come as soon as he took the throne and, though understandable, he would be saddled with the blame for it. Not that he felt any less guilty than the others judged him, but a measure of support would be greatly appreciated, rather than the constant resistance with which they met every one of his difficult decisions.

“Only a couple days more… We’ll find you a new core, ol’ girl.” He stroked the screen with a loving hatred and clapped it shut, leaning back against the tattered throne to draw a long breath of air.

The brief respite, however, continued to elude him as the chime of the door promised another irritant - a familiar irritant. The metal slid open to reveal the tall form of a long-haired, dirty-blonde man clad in a thermosuit, blue work-overalls and with a shit-eating grin. Mars - a necessary evil saddled unto him by his parents in the form of a brother.

“Logos no… Mars, I don’t have the time nor patience to deal with you today.” Stellaris rubbed his temples and leaned forwards as his brother stepped into the chamber; closing the door in his wake.

Mars chuckled, shrugged, but maintained his pristine, wide smile - white, even in the red, dim lights of the control-room. “One of those days, huh?” Stellaris nodded with a distinct lack of bemusement in comparison to his younger brother. Leaning back on the chair, he watched as Mars opened the screen and spun it around to read the latest reports, his dark brow raised with an exaggerated mockery of surprise. As his eyes traversed the screen back-and-forth, Stellaris once again questioned if things might’ve been different if Mars had been elected the Commander after their mother’s demise. He was far more intelligent, certainly, but his recklessness - his radicality was a threat to Sitabee, which was why he remained hesitant of his decision to give this man the reins for the next few weeks… then again… what could one man do to jeopardize the station?

When Mars had finally finished reading the report, he spun the screen back around and crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall of black, dead screens. “Usually, you know I’d gloat whenever things go to shit around here… but fifty-six grow-beds. How many harvests have we lost in a row now?” Stellaris leaned on his fist, cursing his brother’s lengthy hair as he whispered: “Three… I take it you read about the stores?” Mars nodded.

At the tip of his tongue, he held the solution; they both knew it. But the System forbade it - the teachings forbade it. And most importantly… their mother had forbidden it.

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In a pre-emptive strike, Stellaris muttered: “Don’t say it. It’s not gonna happen.” Mars was unsurprised, but no less irked than the thousand previous times they had had the discussion. He stared his dark eyes down unto the grates of the floor and began a carefully planned speech: “Look at us, Stell… we’re malnourished. There’s not a single citizen who’s been close to reaching their protein-quota for months. If the starvation doesn’t get to us, then the viruses will. If we cling to the System, we’ll be out of food before the end of the cycle. We can’t wait for another failed harvest.”

Stellaris was quick to shake his head. He knew he should not be surprised nor impressed with his brother’s stubbornness, but he had to give it to him… the man was persistent.

“The sacred System’s kept us safe for thousands of years, brother. I’ll send Luna out on a kelping-run; we can handle another two hundred kilos without overloading the nitrogen-scrubbers, but that’s as far as I’ll go.”

“Kelp? Starch? We need protein - we need fat. There’s a bounty of both of them out there; so what if we’ll have to vent some sewage? At least we won’t have to worry about eating each other’s shit for a while, I-”

At that point, Stellaris’ patience had run out. He rounded on his brother with a glare and spoke with a frightening, cool calm: “You haven’t seen the Monstrum, Mars. I’d rather starve to death than risk attracting that nightmare to us. It doesn’t just kill…” He squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to suppress those images - that waking horror that haunted the back of his mind, should he stray too far from the runnings of the station. But Mars, it seemed, had decided to use the day to pressure his dear brother.

“That should be up to the People to decide. We haven’t seen your ghosts, but we’ve felt the hunger of your fear. Do the ballot and see what they say… what we say.” Mars met Stellaris’ glare with one of his own - a stand-down of a rare intensity between the two. The younger brother rose from the Throne and took a dizzied step towards his sibling, raising his finger to poke at his chest: “Fear? You want to talk about fear? You’ve made your stance clear, but you’ve had ample opportunities to defy me. Whenever I go out and leave you in charge, I always find things the same when I get back. For all your talk of betraying the System, you’re as loyal to it as I am.” Usually, his blood-pressure would normalize after standing up. The dizziness would only ever last a handful of heartbeats, but this time, it lingered; lingered long enough to deprive him of his balance and send him into his brother’s arms.

There, pressed to Mars’ chest, Stellaris spoke a rare confession: “But you always make it work… it’s always better when I come back… why can’t you take the reins? Why can’t you take over this fucking cursed chair?” The two stood there for a moment, heaving for breath - too exhausted and starved even to rage. A soft hand patted the back of Stellaris’ bald scalp and from the thin, famished chest, he heard Mars’ voice speak softly: “Because I can’t. I’ll always be loyal to you, brother… I’d never make a decision like that without you. You’re the Commander and I’m the Captain; I’ll advise and challenge you, but I’ll never betray you…”

Stellaris so dearly wished for an answer to his request - to have the eldest take the reins, if only for a time… long enough for-

Another chime on the door preceded a flash of light as the metal slid open once again to reveal another, less irritating visitor. In fact, for all their similarities they were polar opposites - Mars, melancholic, conniving and wise was the complete juxtapose to his daughter. Luna, always energetic, forever impulsive, enthusiastic and short-sighted. She stepped in with an initial grin, at least until her eyes adjusted to the red, dim light.

It only took her a moment to see the two embracing forms and when she did, the grin faltered to a profoundly worried frown. She leapt forwards to Mars’ side to help her father back up again, where she continued to scold him: “Logos almighty, you old fart! When did you last eat!? Look at you!” Neither Stellaris nor Mars could contain the chuckle to follow as she went on to attempt to wish her will into life: “There’s no way you’re leaving in this state, not without me.”

When he finally stood on his own, two feet again, Mars’ hand ruffled through the girl’s hair as he said: “Nice try, kiddo. I need you here - someone’s gotta make sure I don’t fuck things up.” The younger brother ran a hand over his bald scalp and kissed his daughter’s forehead with a strict reminder to the two: “Language. The bridge might be empty, but we’ll respect her for as long as she stands, right?”

Shamed, uncle and daughter sighed and made the repenting triangle with court bows. Luna spoke: “Sorry… but I meant what I said. You look like s-... you look hungry. When was the last time you ate?” The aged man glanced about the chamber, rubbing the back of his scalp with a shrug. “Not too long ago… but that’s leadership. My ration probably went to feeding some strapping youngster. I’m sure he’s out there somewhere, why don’t you go looking?” Luna’s brow twitched. She had always hated that about her father - how everything could be deflected with a pointed jest. But not this time - not when there was so much on the line… not when she had promised herself she’d succeed.

She raised a finger and pressed it to his chest. “That’s disgusting. And don’t try to change the subject: I’ve made up my mind. I’m coming with you.” She crossed her arms confidently - so reminiscent of her mother, so brash and strong, despite being only sixteen cycles old. Stellaris crossed his arms and rubbed his chin, as if pondering her stance.

“Oh? Commander Luna’s decided to join the expedition? On whose authority - yours, Mars?” Mars mirrored his brother’s stance and shook his head slowly.

“I’d never dream of it. In fact, I had other plans for her - scav-runs out in the jettisoned cantons. Gosh, I suppose I’ll have to find someone else to run the caravan to Sitalii.” Luna’s eyes widened. Scav-runs? Her? To the glorious Sitalii?

Stellaris and Mars locked eyes as they enacted their pre-planned ruse.

Luna, like most others in Sitabee had never seen the only other colony within non-reactor distance; Sitalii, a station with a population in the thousands - a central trading hub located a day’s journey to the north, where precious few had been sent to trade for the precious resources their neighbors’ ample farms would regularly produce. As much as she wished to join her father on the expedition, her decision waned slightly as she imagined the unending rows of shops, the light and the glamor her parents had told her of so many times.

“Oh well, I suppose I’ll have to find someone else for the job. It’s a shame, I could really use someone with your skills out on the team.” Luna raised a strict finger to her uncle and spoke sternly: “I know what you’re doing… it’s working, but I’ll need assurances. I’m definitively going for scav-runs and I get to go to Sitalii?” Mars raised his thin, long fingers to form the triangle over his left pectoral.

“Logos claim my heart should I lie. Besides, it was your father’s idea. I’ve never been one for diplomacy. And since I don’t know up from down out in the water, I’ll need your eyes on the team now that Vidus and Merlin’s retiring.” She rubbed her chin as if pondering the suggestion. Next, she turned to her father and demanded: “And you. You’ll be back by the end of the thirty, yeah? No risks and you’ll eat up before you go?”

Stellaris narrowed his eyes and raised his hand to his forehead. “Yes, Commander, I’ll be safe - just as I have been the eighty times I’ve been out there already. This time, I’ll return with a core, too, you have my word.” She had heard it before and she could see the doubt in his dark, bagged, aged eyes. Like all of Logo’s people, his eyes were red, but different still. That pain… she so wished she could take it away… She eventually nodded. “Fine. But I’ll need a new vest.”