Nexus

Kunlan Outpost Chronicles

Day 1: Arrival at the Trader Outpost

We touched down on the rocky surface of Kunlan this morning. The engines of the Wayfarer groaned in protest, their echoes swallowed by the vast silence that surrounded us. The sky was a deep slate gray, an oppressive blanket pressing down from above. Dust the color of rust coated everything, shifting with every step like it was alive. This world may not be barren, but the land here is unforgiving. And yet, here we are.

The trader outpost stood resilient against the stark terrain—a dome-shaped structure reinforced with plating that had clearly weathered countless storms. It’s the kind of place that whispers stories when the wind blows, tales of deals struck and fortunes lost. As I walked down the ramp, the crunch of gravel under my boots reminded me that even out here, light-years from Earth, we keep pushing forward.

Day 2: The Faces of the Outpost

The outpost was busier than I expected. Traders, miners, and drifters moved through the corridors, each one marked by the dust and stories they carried. I met Dax, the station’s chief mechanic, his hands rough and stained with oil and time. He’s seen it all—raiders, broken drives, betrayals—and he speaks of them with a dry laugh that hides more than it reveals.

“Welcome to the edge of nowhere,” he said, tightening a bolt on a maintenance rig. I noticed the scar running down his jaw, but didn’t ask. Later, over a shared flask of something that burned all the way down, he told me it was from a deal that went wrong. He smiled when he said it, but his eyes told a different story.

Day 4: Trade and Tensions

Trading on Kunlan is as harsh as its landscape. The merchants here are carved from the same stone they stand on, and every negotiation feels like combat. We came to sell rare alloy stock and secure medical supplies and purification units for the next run. A sect of Gliesean traders watched us closely—colonists and opportunists both—measuring our every move as if deciding whether we were competition or prey.

The deal was tense. Old Man Soren, the outpost’s lead trader, spoke with a rasp that could cut through hull plating. “This isn’t Earth, Captain,” he said, squinting. “Out here, you earn every drop.” He wasn’t bluffing. In the end, we traded half our alloys for what we needed. It was fair by Kunlan standards, which is to say, we didn’t lose everything.

Day 6: The Storm

They warned us about the storms, but words don’t do them justice. The sky darkened in an instant, as if the sun itself had been swallowed. Winds screamed across the outpost, hurling shards of dust that struck the walls like a thousand knives. We barely managed to secure the Wayfarer before visibility vanished completely.

Inside, the dome shook under the onslaught. The power flickered, plunging us into blackness for what felt like hours. I heard boots scraping metal, someone whispering a prayer, and Dax’s calm voice cutting through the chaos, guiding people to the emergency shelters. I gripped the flask Soren had given me and took a long pull. The heat in my throat was a small rebellion against the cold fury outside.

When the winds finally died, the silence hit like a weight. The world outside had changed—boulders shifted, paths erased, red dust draped over everything like a burial cloth. But the outpost still stood, scarred but unbroken, just like the people within it.

Day 8: Departure and Reflection

With the storm behind us and the deal done, it’s time to leave Kunlan. As I walk up the ramp of the Wayfarer, I turn for one last look at the outpost. It’s a small defiant speck against an endless ocean of rock and wind—a monument to the stubbornness that keeps humanity alive, no matter how far from home we stray.

“Ready for takeoff, Captain?” Javi’s voice crackles through the comm.

I glance back one final time at Dax and the others, their figures fading into the red horizon. “Ready,” I reply. The Wayfarer rises through the haze, engines rumbling, leaving the outpost and its stories behind for the next set of dreamers and drifters who dare to call Kunlan home.

— Journal of Captain Jenna Moran

Combat Walker Training on Fenghuang

Day 1: Arrival on Fenghuang

The moment our boots touched the rugged surface of Fenghuang, I knew this world would test us in every way imaginable. The journey from Earth was long, filled with anticipation and the weight of expectation. Fenghuang, whispered about in the halls of the academy as the ultimate training ground, spread out before us like a red-blooded challenge. Jagged cliffs loomed over dense forests that swayed under alien winds, and vast plains burned in the light of twin suns.

The air was sharp and metallic, daring us to breathe it. Even through my suit’s filtration, I could taste minerals and ozone. As we disembarked from the transport ship, our combat walkers stood lined along the ridge like mechanical sentinels. My Baihu, with its sleek profile and scarred armor, seemed almost eager. My pulse thrummed with the electric mix of nerves and excitement that every pilot feels before the first test.

Day 3: First Maneuvers

The opening drills were grueling. Fenghuang’s terrain has a will of its own, shifting without warning, and sudden dust storms turn everything into crimson haze. Every movement feels like a dance on the edge of control.

Our squad, the Thunder Wolves, ran convoy defense simulations today. I held point at the vanguard, eyes flicking between sensor blips and the shifting horizon. Captain Zhang’s voice crackled over the comms, his tone sharp and unrelenting. “Don’t think—react!” he barked. I tightened my grip as Baihu surged forward, hydraulics humming like a living creature. The ground gave way beneath our feet, but I adjusted, learning to ride the world’s fury instead of fighting it. Fenghuang demanded respect, and today, I earned a little of it.

Day 6: Combat Exercises

We faced the Iron Dragons today, a rival squad famous for precision and aggression. The simulation zone was a dense alien forest filled with twisting trees that glowed when brushed, painting the battlefield in eerie light. Perfect conditions for an ambush.

Our formation advanced carefully, each heavy footfall of the walkers sending tremors through the soil. Inside the cockpit, the air was thick with tension. My co-pilot, Wei Ling, breathed slow and steady beside me. The HUD flared with sudden movement, and the forest erupted in plasma fire. Blue light slashed past Baihu’s frame. I launched an EMP burst in reply, the canopy flashing as energy cascaded through the trees. One enemy walker dropped to a knee, systems overloaded. “Incoming from the right!” Wei Ling shouted. I pivoted Baihu hard, its servo arms colliding with the enemy’s hull in a thunder of steel.

It felt endless, each second stretched to breaking. When the final whistle sounded, I exhaled for what felt like the first time in hours. The match ended in a draw—bruised egos, battered frames, but no defeats. The Thunder Wolves held firm.

Day 8: Lessons Learned

Captain Zhang’s debrief was as merciless as the terrain. “Good isn’t good enough,” he said, eyes like iron. “Out there, ‘almost’ gets you killed.” He wasn’t wrong. Training here isn’t repetition—it’s survival in its purest form.

The afternoon disappeared in recalibration drills. Baihu’s targeting suite needed tuning, so I re-wrote the predictive algorithm to track movement in heavy cover. Wei Ling joked we should name the AI; she said it was starting to feel like a third member of the team. For a moment, the thought made the day a little lighter.

Day 12: The Storm Test

Fenghuang showed its true nature today. We were midway through a navigation drill when the sky turned blood-red and the storm arrived. Wind howled like a living beast, carrying dust so thick it devoured the horizon. Visibility vanished; sensors flickered uselessly.

“Stay close!” I shouted into the comms, but the storm swallowed my voice. Baihu moved by instinct, step by step, following the faint shadow of Wu’s walker ahead. Every motion felt uncertain, yet somehow, we stayed together. When the storm finally broke, the silence that followed was deafening. Captain Zhang’s voice crackled through the static. “When things go wrong, we see who you really are.” He was right. Today, we saw fear, courage, and the thread of loyalty that binds us as one unit. We survived because we refused to fall apart.

Day 14: Final Thoughts

The end of our training cycle approaches, and I can feel the weight of it pressing like the twin suns overhead. Fenghuang pushed us to the edge and beyond. We’ve learned to fight through blindness, to trust the machines that carry us, and—above all—to trust one another.

When deployment comes, we’ll be ready. The Thunder Wolves are more than a squad; we’re family forged in dust and storms. Whatever lies ahead, Baihu and I will be at the front, no hesitation. Fenghuang tempered us in fire, and we are stronger for it.

— Journal of Lieutenant Ren Tao, Thunder Wolves Squad

Second Earth

Day 1: Arrival in Alpha Centauri A

Today, we entered the Alpha Centauri system, a place humanity has dreamed of reaching for generations. As we emerged from transit, the view was breathtaking. Alpha Centauri A, warm and radiant like our own Sun, filled the viewport with golden light. It felt both familiar and foreign, a mirror of home seen through a cosmic haze. The crew stood silent at first, caught between disbelief and awe. For years, I had worked alongside scientists, engineers, and explorers from across the United States, imagining this moment. Nothing could prepare us for the reality of it.

Our mission was clear: scan, survey, and search for signs of habitability. Early sweeps revealed several planetary bodies, but one stood out, an Earth-sized world orbiting at the perfect distance from its star. Atmospheric readings showed a breathable mix of gases, a stable climate, and the unmistakable signature of water. We had found our destination.

Day 3: First Approach to Planet AC-04

The ship buzzed with energy as we made our approach. The crew had labeled the world AC-04, though the name felt far too clinical for something so alive. Our scans confirmed a vibrant planet with vast blue oceans, emerald and violet continents, and shifting cloud patterns that glowed softly in reflected light. Watching it grow in the viewport, I felt the weight of history pressing in. We were the first to stand at the edge of a new world.

Captain Alvarez oversaw descent preparations while I handled atmospheric verification. The readings were nearly perfect: nitrogen, oxygen, and trace gases in near-Earth proportions. When we touched down, the landing was smooth and steady. Instruments confirmed surface stability, and the silence that followed was profound. For the first time in human history, we stood within another star’s warmth and called it safe.

Day 5: Stepping onto the Surface

The first step onto AC-04 will stay with me forever. The soil felt soft beneath my boots, rich and mineral, alive. Around us stretched a world of deep color and motion: towering trees with violet leaves that rippled in a gentle wind, wildflowers of brilliant orange and blue carpeting the valley floor. The air was clean and cool, filled with faint melodic sounds from unseen life.

I looked upward to see two distant moons hanging in the pale sky, their glow washing the landscape in silver light. A handful of stars were still visible even under daylight, a quiet reminder of how far from Earth we truly were. Dr. Erikson stood beside me, his voice trembling as he whispered, “This is our new world.” He was right. Humanity had found its second home.

Day 10: The Naming of Terra Secundus

As exploration expanded, the crew began debating a proper name. AC-04 no longer fit the wonder we felt each day. After a long discussion, Captain Alvarez made it official: Terra Secundus, Second Earth. The name carried both humility and hope, honoring our origin while marking the beginning of something greater.

We raised the American flag beside our landing module, its colors bright against the alien sky. It was a moment that transcended every milestone before it, more than the Moon, more than Mars. We had crossed the final frontier. The planet was alive in every sense: rivers of crystal water, forests filled with movement, and distant mountain ranges crowned with perpetual snow. The ecosystem was vast, intricate, and unlike anything we had imagined.

Day 14: The First Signs of Native Life

Today changed everything. While surveying a dense stretch of forest, we encountered the first signs of native fauna. Small furred creatures darted between the trees, bright-eyed, curious, and fearless. Their coats shimmered with iridescent hues that shifted with the light, and they communicated through rhythmic, harmonic calls that echoed softly through the canopy.

Later, we observed larger grazing animals with long sinewed bodies and thick hides. They moved in herds across the open plains, cautious but peaceful. Every step through this world revealed another mystery, another affirmation that life had taken root here in forms beyond our comprehension. Terra Secundus was no longer just habitable, it was thriving.

Day 20: Leaving Terra Secundus

Departure day came too soon. Terra Secundus had become more than a mission; it had become a memory we would carry for the rest of our lives. I took one last walk along the river near our base, tracing my fingers through the cool water and watching the red ferns ripple with the current. In the distance, the iridescent creatures sang their strange, haunting chorus. I wanted to stay, to see what this world might become.

Our samples and recordings are safely stored aboard the ship, but no data can capture what it felt like to stand here. We know others will follow — explorers, settlers, perhaps whole cities. For now, it remains untouched, wild, and perfect.

As we ascended through the upper atmosphere, I looked back one final time. The planet glowed beneath us, blue and green and alive. I whispered a quiet promise: I will return. Terra Secundus is part of us now, our second chance, our new beginning among the stars.

— Journal of Dr. Elise Fontaine

Mercury’s Path

Day 1: Arrival at Chandigarh

After weeks of subspace transit, we finally arrived at Chandigarh. The journey was rougher than usual due to radiation pockets, engine flares, and a hull breach scare that left me wondering if my ship, Mercury’s Path, had enough fight left in her. But here we are, safe in orbit around this bustling hub of trade and commerce.

Chandigarh is an odd mix of advanced infrastructure and old-world charm. The spaceport, a sprawling complex of landing pads, docking bays, and logistics centers, sits surrounded by low-rise settlements and some of the greenest lands I’ve seen in years. It’s like arriving at a sprawl city on Earth, but with a modern touch.

My cargo hold is loaded with medical equipment — highly specialized gear intended for the clinics and emergency stations scattered across Chandigarh’s rural and industrial zones. This is essential material, the kind that makes all the difference in planetary sector hospitals, especially with the viral outbreak everyone’s whispering about.

Day 2: Docking and Unloading

The docking bay was packed when we landed, and the wait time was brutal. Turns out, I’m not the only one bringing in medical supplies. There’s a fleet of ships coming in, all carrying various equipment to handle what the locals are calling the “Red Flu.” It’s a nasty bug that’s taken root across a few densely populated districts, and people here are desperate for supplies.

My contact at the spaceport, a logistics officer named Harinder, met me with the unloading crew. Efficient and to the point, he didn’t waste any time on pleasantries. I watched as my cargo was transferred to Chandigarh’s medical response vehicles. Knowing this equipment would make a real difference felt good, but there’s always the pressure of deadlines and expectations.

Harinder took me aside, slipping me a data chip with details for another potential run. Chandigarh’s government is willing to pay a premium for more supplies if I can bring them in by next week. It’s tempting, but the risks are high — every trader out here knows the space lanes aren’t as safe as they used to be.

Day 3: The Market and Meeting Other Traders

After my cargo was delivered, I spent the morning exploring the market square near the port. Chandigarh is a melting pot of cultures, and the market reflects that. Every stall sells something different — from spices and handwoven textiles to advanced tech mods and weapon upgrades. It’s a feast for the senses and a chance to meet other independent traders like me.

Over a cup of hot chai, I met Farid, a fellow Mercury-class captain. We traded stories about tight landings and engine malfunctions. He mentioned a few secure routes he’s charted in the sector. I traded him some intel on port fees and local inspectors to watch out for — Chandigarh’s “creative” customs officials are notorious.

There’s a camaraderie among us independents, but competition is fierce, especially with supply prices soaring. Every run is a gamble, and some of us won’t make it back with our hulls intact. But that’s life out here on the edge.

Day 4: An Offer I Can’t Refuse

Just as I was preparing to head back to the ship, I received a message from Harinder. He wants to make a deal — a direct contract with the Chandigarh Medical Coalition. It would be a series of high-risk, high-reward runs over the next two months, transporting everything from supplies to specialized personnel. The pay is double the usual rate, but the routes he’s suggested are perilous, skirting known pirate zones.

I’ve got a decision to make. I can use the credits, and so can my crew. But the thought of running medical supplies through disputed zones is enough to give even a veteran like me pause. Still, the job offers stability and a connection with Chandigarh’s government — and that’s not something I can ignore.

I’ll sleep on it, but something tells me this opportunity might just be worth the risk. Out here, you take the chances you’re given.

Journal of Tessa Monroe
Independent Trader