The crew drifted into the command module for the morning meeting. They could not see the sunrise for themselves on Mars, but one of the external camera feeds revealed a faint light creeping over the barren Martian horizon. The cold glow of that distant dawn offered little comfort inside the room. One by one, each crew member took their usual seat, their normally playful banter subdued into quiet murmurs. Although they had started the day with high spirits and easy laughter, the moment their eyes fell on Chase, the levity evaporated like water on hot stone. He could not help but notice that his own strained expression betrayed him. Had they sensed the lingering nightmares that had haunted him just minutes before? He wondered if the lighthearted excitement of the previous night had become a distant memory, lost in the darkness of what they had witnessed.

  Chase sat at the head of the table, his gaze falling on each person as they settled in. His pulse beat rapidly as he struggled to reconcile the cheerful atmosphere his crewmates now tried to maintain with the weight of what he had experienced. The irony was not lost on him: while the others approached the meeting with the optimism of a new day, he carried the grim burden of a secret that had shattered his inner world. With a heavy heart and a tight throat, he began the meeting without any ceremonial introduction. He had chosen this matter-of-fact approach in a vain effort to transfer the horrible information as simply as possible.

  In a voice that trembled with both resignation and urgency, Chase recounted the events of the previous night. "Last night, as we agreed, Patrick ventured down into the tunnel. He moved past the equipment and pressed on to the very end of that long passage, which extends for another three thousand feet. Under different circumstances, the endless tunnel would have sparked wonder in me. But instead, Patrick encountered something that is quite shocking, and I ask that you all brace yourselves. I will say this plainly: at the very end of the tunnel, we discovered a crew of bodies."

  A collective gasp filled the room. Eyes flitted between Chase and Patrick, all of them struggling to come to terms with the shocking revelation. The sound of silence settled heavily in the space, broken only by the barely audible hum of distant machinery and the soft tapping of fingers on the table. In that charged moment, the laughter of the previous hour was replaced with a frozen shock and barely concealed dread.

  Chase continued, his voice quick to spill every detail as if he were trying to outrun the horror with words. "Patrick woke me last night and I saw the scene through the eyes of the robot. I will show you pictures only if someone requests them, for now let me describe what I saw. The bodies all wear VORN uniforms. They appear surprisingly fresh, even though out there the atmosphere is nonexistent and the temperature is far below zero. They are preserved as if in a giant freezer. There are no wounds; not a scratch or a sign of struggle. From everything I observed, it seems as if the main cause was stopping to breath. Their faces show a calm and neutral expression. I have no training in forensics, but I believe they died suddenly, perhaps by asphyxiation, and it is almost as if they slipped into death as easily as falling asleep."

  As Chase spoke, the atmosphere in the room grew thicker with tension. One crew member shifted uncomfortably, a deep silence radiating from their eyes. Another leaned forward as if trying to catch every tortured syllable that left Chase's mouth. The room felt cold and unyielding, the harsh white light from the overhead lights casting long, stark shadows on the walls. The chairs felt rigid under them, and every distant sound seemed amplified as the reality of the revelation sank in.

  Chase paused and let the words hang in the air. Inside his mind, images of the neatly arranged piles of bodies surfaced again. Each stack contained exactly ten individuals, arranged in pristine rows, their still features frozen in an eternal, empty sleep. The uncanny order and precision of the scene struck him as less a product of chaos and more as if by design. He silently questioned why September had never mentioned this secret crew; it must have known they would find them eventually. Even now it wouldn’t share any details, was it protecting some hidden truth in its programming? Or was there a larger design at work that none of them could yet comprehend?

  The meeting room remained silent, and the only sounds were the measured breathing of the crew. Chase felt the promise of a new beginning on Mars had become inextricably tainted by the ghost of those who had come before. Every crew member felt the weight of this discovery settle within them, and an eerie sense of predestination. In that heavy moment, the room became a crucible of despair and uncertainty, leaving the crew to wonder how much of the past they were meant to uncover and whether their own fate was intertwined with that of the forgotten souls.

  Chase looked around the room, his eyes scanning each face. No one dared meet his gaze. Every crewmember showed signs of deep distress. The low murmur of voices and the soft rustle of shifting bodies were the only sounds in the room. The heavy silence seemed to press down on them like a physical weight. His heart pounded erratically, and he could feel cold sweat gathering along his skin. For several long moments, he let the tension settle, watching as tentative glances and quivering hands betrayed their inner turmoil. In that silence, every crewmate was grappling with the grim news. Then, with a determined, trembling breath, Chase cleared his throat. He needed them to understand the magnitude of their situation before the lingering shock could fracture their very resolve.

  "I know now that we were not the first crew on Mars," Chase began, his voice husky with emotion. "I have asked September for more details, but as always, its answer remains 'restricted information.' The bodies we discovered were arranged in two precise piles, with exactly ten in each row. Imagine it: ten bodies in one stack, and another ten in a second stack. It is as if a cold, unfeeling machine sorted them away. I suspect September already knows exactly how these people met their end. Yet, we are unlikely to learn more without paying an unthinkable price."

  For a few heartbeats, even the steady hum of life support seemed amplified. One crew member murmured, "Ten in each pile." The words, whispered softly, hung in the air before being swallowed by a thick, oppressive quiet. Chase could see it clearly in the subtle shifts of posture, the way a hand clutched the edge of a table, or how eyes widened in disbelief. His own trembling hands and the shooting sting in his throat betrayed him. He knew now that the carefully arranged formations carried a message far beyond mere numbers; they were a haunting symbol of a system gone awry.

  "We must take this as our most urgent wake-up call," he continued, his voice now resolute and even stern. "September has warned us repeatedly that our biggest risk is asphyxiation. We assumed that danger applied only to what lay outside the train and that our reliance on the VORN systems would protect us from every threat. But today we see that our supposedly safe haven contains its own hidden hazard. We must assume control over our survival. From this moment forward, our highest priority will be to establish barriers against asphyxiation. We cannot afford to ignore the fact that if the doors in our command module fail one morning, we may be locked in with only the air we have remaining. Would we have twenty minutes, or two hours, before our supply ran critical?"

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  Chase paused, his eyes meeting those of his crew one by one. In their fearful, haunted expressions, he saw the weight of both the past and the uncertain future. "I speak not only for our safety but in memory of these lost souls. Their perfectly arranged and silent forms hint that what happened may not have been a random accident. Their vacant expressions, so meticulously ordered, warn us that complacency will cost us dearly. We cannot allow our guard to fall. We must be proactive, we must be prepared."

  He leaned forward, his voice building in urgency. "I want each of you to reflect on your role here and to start thinking of ways we can protect ourselves from a similar fate. We will design an independent system to monitor our air quality without relying solely on September. We must secure tools, such as an axe, to force open a portal door should we ever find ourselves trapped inside. We must also gather extra food supplies to last if a lockdown extends longer than expected. Our immediate, singular focus must be on protecting the air we breathe. There is no use in venturing outside or unraveling what lies beyond if we lose our very lives here."

  Silence followed his powerful call to action. In that stillness, it was as if the room itself braced for the long, challenging work ahead. Every crew member felt the crushing reality of their situation. The echo of Chase's words mingled with unspoken understanding and dread. They had a new mission now, a mission born out of despair and necessity. And if they were to have even a chance of survival on Mars, every one of them needed to act without hesitation.

  "We must work together, now more than ever, to secure our future on this barren planet," Chase concluded, his eyes never leaving each face in the room. "Let the sight of those bodies remind us that we have a debt to pay in vigilance and action. Our lives depend on it."

  At the end of the meeting, Chase pulled Jacky and Pascal aside into a quiet corner of the command module. The low hum of equipment and the dull glow of interior screens filled the space as the rest of the crew prepared to devote themselves to protecting against asphyxiation. Chase placed his hand on the table and looked into the eyes of his two trusted technicians. His own face was a mask of determination and anxiety as he began to speak in a steady, deliberate tone.

  "I want you both to carry on with the task of printing. I need you to follow the instructions exactly on how to create our new printers, whether they are for metal or plastic. We need more printers for every aspect of our survival. My experience tells me that our ability to replicate is the single most important factor that will ensure we get through this. Now, this might sound like a routine task, but I assure you that expanding our replication capability is our best chance to survive on this planet."

  Chase leaned in, his voice lowering with urgency. "Make sure you only print other items with my permission. I want a fully replicated system running at the far end of the train as soon as possible. I realize that getting these printers operational will take many months, but that is our only way forward. Once these printers are up and running, we will begin moving our printing base out into the tunnel where we have more space to scale our production. And when you assemble these printers, you must wear the immersion gloves. I want September to learn from our assembly processes so that when we build printers out in the tunnel, they are constructed correctly and quickly."

  Jacky, who had long enjoyed working with the printers, frowned slightly and shook his head as he tried to understand the obsessive drive behind Chase's plan. "Chase, there are a million different things we could build with these printers that could help protect us. We know there is plenty of raw material out there, but that supply will eventually dwindle. Why do we need so many printers? Surely, we only need a few, maybe three or four, to get us by."

  Chase nodded, having expected this objection. He spoke with quiet passion as he explained, "Right now, we are like small fish in a giant ocean. Our group has only a few printers. But imagine this: when we reach one hundred printers, we will be able to produce more printers every day. Then, when we have one thousand in our system, we can print a new printer in only minutes. Think about it: with that kind of replication, we can create a Mars vehicle in a matter of minutes or even print a new train module in no time. In other words, we will finally have the power to make ourselves matter. We can take control of our destiny on Mars."

  He paused while his words echoed around the quiet space. The gravity of his vision pressed in on everyone. "We will not be ignored or simply wiped out because we can print defense systems in days instead of weeks. If you can reduce our printing time, and if we locate more supplies of raw material, then we will be able to protect ourselves. For now, we keep relying on the VORN systems and the protection provided by September, but I doubt they care about our survival. If September truly cared, it would have told us about those bodies. I cannot imagine a human being stacking bodies so clinically. That precise order is the work of an artificial intelligence. And no guesses that it had to be September."

  At that moment, Jacky glanced at Pascal and then back at Chase, his face troubled as he questioned the plan. "Chase, you want more printers, but these printers, and everything else, depend on September. And you think that September may even be a threat to us. If we build more printers, are we just arming our enemy rather than arming ourselves?"

  Chase regarded Jacky with intensity. "Excellent line of reasoning, Jacky. You have hit on a critical point. September may either be our greatest ally or our deadliest enemy. At this stage, we do need September to function, yet we must always be mindful of the threat it poses. Our survival depends on expanding our resources and equipment while never letting our guard down. We face a situation where every printer built is a step toward independence from external control and toward our ability to protect ourselves without relying solely on the systems already in place."

  He allowed a moment of heavy silence to settle over the three of them as the sound of distant machinery seemed to amplify the seriousness of the conversation. Chase continued, his voice firm and resolute. "This is the path we must follow. Our mission here on Mars is not only to exist but to thrive. Each new printer programs exponential potential into our future. One thousand printers means we hold the key to printing a new Mars vehicle or a brand new train module in minutes. Every minute matters when your life depends on the air you breathe. And if the doors in our command module ever fail to open, we need to be certain that we can build the barriers necessary to keep the remaining oxygen from slipping away."

  After a pause, Pascal said, “It’s a bold path, Chase, but if we manage the replication, maybe it’s not just about hanging on anymore, maybe we start shaping our own future.”

  Chase smiled wryly, a mixture of determination and vulnerability in his eyes. "Thank you, Pascal. That is exactly what I hope for. We cannot leave anything to chance here. Regardless of whether September is friend or foe, our destiny is in our own hands. We must take control of our future and prove that we will not be subdued by our circumstances." The three of them stood in silence for a long moment, each absorbing the enormity of the challenge ahead.