The low hum of the newly docked ships filled the narrow cockpit as Elan and Max stood near the fuel hatch, explaining the Fluxine system to the siblings.
"This is the intake valve," Max said, pointing to a small, circular port near the engine core. "You connect the canister here, release the clamps, and the system will automatically process the Fluxine."
The girl held the canister tightly, her hands trembling. "What if it leaks? What if we break it?"
Elan shook his head gently. "It won't. It's designed to lock in place. Take a deep breath."
She nodded, swallowing hard before carefully fitting the canister onto the intake. The lock clicked, a soft hiss following as the system drew the Fluxine in. Lights on the panel blinked green, and the engines began to hum with a soft, steady vibration.
Ren let out a low whistle. "Never gets old seeing it work."
The boy's eyes widened as he watched the engine readouts stabilize. "We… we did it."
"You did," Elan confirmed with a small smile.
As they stepped back to let the system stabilize, the girl turned to Elan, her eyes sharp with curiosity. "How are you guys navigating so smoothly? How did you know about refueling and all of this?"
Elan exchanged a glance with Max before answering. "Max worked in spacecraft engineering before everything fell apart. He taught us most of what we know."
Max crossed his arms, his expression calm but tired. "I helped with testing engines before launch certification. When the eruptions started, we had to move fast. We took what we could and ran."
Ren added, "We've been learning as we go too. We didn't know half of this until Max explained it."
The boy lowered his eyes. "We only had that manual. Our parents left it for us when they…"
His voice trailed off, the girl placing a hand on his shoulder. Elan nodded, his expression softening. "It's enough that you made it this far."
The engines thrummed softly, the ship alive again, and for a moment, the darkness outside felt a little less heavy.
With the engines humming steadily, Elan, Max, and Ren gathered with the siblings in the cramped cockpit, the glow of the console screens casting soft blue light across tired faces.
Max tapped a series of buttons on the main console, gesturing for the siblings to watch closely. "This is your engine monitoring display. Here, you can see fuel levels, engine heat, and flux stabilization. If the flux indicator goes into the red, you shut down immediately, or the engines will burn out."
The siblings nodded, eyes focused as Max moved to another panel. "These are your directional thrusters. In zero gravity, you can't just steer like a car. You tap these controls to rotate or adjust your drift. Small bursts, or you waste fuel."
Ren chimed in, "And if you ever start spinning, you counter with opposite thrust. Slow and steady."
Elan pointed to the small screen above the main console. "This is your proximity scanner. It picks up large objects, debris fields, ships, and stations within a few kilometers. Don't ignore it. One collision and it's over."
The girl took careful notes in a small, worn notebook while her brother practiced the button sequences with Max.
"And this," Max said, sliding open a small panel, "is the Fluxine purge system. If the Fluxine gets contaminated or overpressurized, you can vent it manually. You'll lose fuel, but it's better than an engine explosion."
They moved through the cabin, pointing out the small filtration system for water reclamation, the food storage compartments, and the emergency oxygen canisters tucked under the seats.
Elan glanced back, seeing the siblings watching with wide eyes, trying to absorb every word.
"It's a lot, but you'll learn," Elan said, his voice softer. "This ship… it's your life now. Take care of it, and it'll take care of you."
The hum of the engines and the blinking lights of the console filled the silence that followed as the crew continued teaching, the void outside stretching endlessly while, inside, the small group held onto this fragile, flickering hope.
The steady pulse of the engines was now a comfort as Max moved to the rear section of the ship, gesturing for the siblings to follow.
"Next up: life support," Max said, tapping on a metal cabinet built into the wall. He opened it, revealing a set of canisters, filters, and blinking indicator lights.
"This is your oxygen recycling system. We don't have infinite air, so the system filters carbon dioxide and humidity, recirculating breathable air."
The girl leaned forward, reading the labels. "What if it fails?"
Max's expression was serious. "You'll know. You'll feel it getting harder to breathe, and headaches will start. That's when you either fix the filters or put on emergency masks."
Ren demonstrated, pulling out a slim oxygen mask from under a seat and fitting it over his face. "Always keep these nearby, especially when sleeping."
Elan pointed to a small water tank with pipes leading into the system. "This also manages humidity levels and recycles water from the air and waste. We top it up using ice we find or from water rations when we can."
The siblings exchanged a glance, realizing how fragile the system was.
Max closed the cabinet, turning to the console on the wall. "And here, you can monitor air pressure and temperature. Space is cold, but the ship's heaters and insulators keep us alive. If the temperature drops, you'll need to check for seal leaks."
The boy swallowed. "So even a small crack could…"
Elan nodded. "It could. That's why we check seals daily."
They moved back to the cockpit, the siblings' expressions a mixture of fear and determination as they looked over the blinking consoles and softly humming systems.
"This ship," Elan said, placing a hand on the console, "isn't just metal and wires. It's the only thing standing between us and the vacuum. Remember that, and you'll be okay."
As the engines hummed, the siblings nodded, absorbing every word, while the stars drifted quietly beyond the glass, the small crew holding onto survival, one lesson at a time.
As Max finished explaining drift adjustments and navigation, the console emitted a soft, urgent beep.
Elan leaned over, eyes narrowing. "Proximity scanner just picked up something big."
The siblings crowded closer as the screen displayed several large objects drifting ahead, their surfaces irregular and dark.
"Meteoroids," Max muttered, adjusting the scanner's focus. "Some are the size of small buildings."
Ren squinted at the faint shimmer on one of the larger chunks. "Wait… is that ice?"
Elan nodded slowly. "Looks like it. Water ice."
The girl's eyes widened. "We could mine it, right? For water?"
Max exhaled, shaking his head. "Not without mining tools or collection drones. We can't risk manual EVA with this many rocks drifting. One wrong move and…"
He let the sentence hang, the low hum of the engines and the distant silence of space finishing it for him.
Elan adjusted the thrusters, the ship's engines giving a low vibration as they angled away. "We'll mark the coordinates. Maybe one day, when we're better equipped."
The boy sighed softly, pressing a hand to the glass as the drifting ice rocks slid past, a reminder of both hope and their limits.
"Sometimes," Elan said quietly, "knowing when to move on is part of survival too."
The crew watched the ice-filled meteoroids drift slowly away, the stars beyond them flickering like distant promises, as the ship continued its patient journey through the void, engines steady, carrying their fragile hope forward.
Days passed in quiet routines of system checks and console lessons, the hum of the engines the constant companion to the drifting ship.
Then the proximity scanner pulsed again, a slow, heavy signal.
Elan leaned forward, adjusting the sensors. "That's… odd."
Ren peered over his shoulder. "What is it?"
Max's eyes narrowed at the display. "A rogue planet. Or a dwarf rogue. It's hard to tell without a detailed scan."
The siblings exchanged a glance. "A planet? Out here?" the boy whispered.
Elan nodded. "Rogue planets drift through space, unanchored to any star. Cold, dark, and dangerous."
The girl swallowed. "Could there be… anything on it?"
Max exhaled, folding his arms. "Maybe ice, frozen gases, or deep caverns. Maybe nothing but silent rock."
Ren checked the fuel readout. "We don't have the tools, or fuel to explore and escape its gravity if things go wrong."
Elan stared at the slowly drifting dark mass on the scanner, a silent titan moving through the stars. Part of him felt the pull of curiosity, the other part remembering how fragile they all were in the dark.
"We're marking it," Elan said, tapping a few keys to save the coordinates. "But we move on. We don't know what dangers wait on something like that."
As they adjusted course, the rogue planet slowly slipped past their path, a reminder of how vast and empty the universe was—and how small they were within it.
The engines hummed as the ship continued forward, the crew glancing back at the drifting world before returning their eyes to the endless dark ahead, uncertain of what tomorrow would bring, but determined to keep moving.