Caliban Station didn’t have a “floor,” not really. For Judas-12, who’d spent his entire life out here, orientation was just a matter of habit. Zero gravity didn’t mean chaos—it meant choice.

He swam through a low-gravity corridor, hand over hand on the embedded grips. Around him, faintly glowing strips marked the “lanes” of the transit corridor, keeping everyone moving in the right direction. The walls, a brushed steel that always seemed faintly dusty no matter how often they were cleaned, hummed with the station’s unending rhythm.

The air smelled faintly of coolant, ozone, and recycled life support—Caliban’s usual bouquet. He let Samson’s voice fill his ears, distracting him from the subtle claustrophobia that came with moving through spaces where the “floor” could just as easily be the “ceiling”, the floating tablet that was representational of his other half drifting lazily along on a tether.

“You know, you could have set your alarm earlier,” Samson noted, his tone entirely too cheerful.

“I like to sleep in,” Judas replied, pushing off a wall to drift around a bend in the corridor. “It keeps me sharp.”

“Sharp,” Samson repeated flatly. “Interesting theory.”

The corridor transitioned smoothly into the centrifuge module, where the rotational gravity created the illusion of a proper “down.” Judas passed through the faint shimmer that marked the boundary, feeling the tug of centrifugal force return. He touched down with practiced ease, his boots making a soft click against the surface. The sensation was always slightly off—gravity that pulled outward instead of inward—but after a lifetime aboard Caliban, it felt like home. He had never known anything else. Only his body's human instincts told him that things weren't as they should be.

The main ring buzzed with quiet activity as Judas strolled in. Displays along the walls flickered with updates: system schematics, power levels, and flashing notifications for overdue maintenance. Central Oversight’s avatar was already active at the center of the room—a tall, thin woman with a strikingly serene face.

Vivian-3 duo Eden didn’t just represent Central Oversight; she was Central Oversight, or at least the part of it that humans interacted with. Her presence loomed larger than life, projected from a series of emitters recessed in the walls. Her voice, calm yet unyielding, filled the space as Judas joined the loose circle of his crewmates. Judas held her with a small note of disdain - nothing she said was from her, he felt, although he'd never say that to her face.

“Good morning, ballistics team,” Vivian said, her gaze sweeping over them with practiced precision. “Let’s begin.”

Judas leaned casually against the edge of a console, catching Dara-6’s eye as she stood stiffly to one side. Caleb-7 and Ibrahim-10 were already seated, Caleb looking slightly out of his depth while Ibrahim jotted notes on his tablet with his usual grim focus. Tariq was nowhere to be found, which was usual.

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Vivian continued, her tone unrelenting. “First, a status update on yesterday’s launch. The asteroid has impacted Pluto’s surface as planned. Mining teams are already deploying drones to the site to assess the yield. Early telemetry suggests significant fracturing in the impact zone, which aligns with projections.”

“That’s nice,” Judas muttered under his breath. “Always good when giant space rocks behave.”

Samson ignored him. Vivian didn’t seem to hear—or care.

“Now,” Vivian said, her holographic hands clasping neatly, “we turn to the mass driver. The launch was a success, but stress analysis has revealed damage in several key segments. Rail sections B-12 and C-3 exhibit significant warping, which must be addressed before the next major payload is prepared.”

Dara raised a hand, unnecessarily formal. “Do we have an ETA on the next asteroid’s arrival?”

“Approximately 254 Earth days,” Vivian replied smoothly. “However, smaller coil repairs and maintenance on auxiliary systems will require immediate attention. Your assignments are being distributed to your terminals.”

“Great,” Judas drawled. “Because what I love most about this job is staring at rails.”

Vivian turned her head slightly toward him, the faintest flicker of disapproval in her expression. “Your sarcasm is noted, Judas-12. However, precision is critical. The mass driver is the backbone of this station’s operations, and any misalignment risks catastrophic results.”

“I know, I know,” Judas said, holding up his hands. “I’m just saying, maybe we could outsource this to the mining drones.”

“You’re irreplaceable, Judas,” Samson said in his neural feed, too dry to be serious.

“I hate you,” Judas muttered back.

“Moving on,” Vivian continued, ignoring the low hum of conversation that had broken out among the team. “Additionally, Central Oversight has approved funding for new structural supports along the driver. They will arrive with the next shipment.”

“Because that’ll help us now,” Judas said.

Dara shot him a glare. “You could at least pretend to care.”

“I care. Just not in the same way you do.”

“More work for us?” Caleb offered, his voice tinged with youthful exuberance. At sixteen, he was technically old enough to be a full member of the team, but his fresh name and bright-eyed demeanor still grated on Judas. He was still spending time hopping around the various engineering teams, figuring out what it was he wanted to do with his life. Maintenance engineering, ballistics engineering, atmospheric engineering - just gotta pick one.

The briefing ended with a brief Q&A—most of it led by Dara, who drilled Vivian-3 on specifics of the driver diagnostics. Caleb tried to keep up but mostly ended up asking questions about things everyone else already understood.

As they filed out, Judas hung back, letting the others get ahead. Vivian’s holographic form flickered slightly as she glanced in his direction.

“Do try to remain focused, Judas,” she said, her tone softer now that the others had gone. “Your work is important.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t quite bring himself to snap back. “Yeah, yeah. I get it.”

Vivian’s serene smile never wavered. “See that you do.”

Judas smirked, but his attention drifted back to the displays. One of them caught his eye—a detailed schematic of the mass driver, its glowing lines showing stress points from the last launch. He frowned, leaning closer to study it.

“Something wrong?” Samson asked in his earpiece, a more private tone of voice.

“Not sure yet,” Judas muttered. “But I’m guessing this isn’t the last time we’ll be talking about the driver.”