Lucas's quarters were unusually pristine at 0600 hours. His military-issued gear was folded with regulation precision, but the single travel bag beside his bed told a different story. Personal items carefully selected for an unknown duration—a photo of his team after their first successful mission, a worn training manual from the academy that he got three years ago, and a small device that looked like a communicator but felt heavier than it should.
He'd packed the night before, each item placed with deliberate care. The process had been methodical, almost meditative, as if organizing his belongings could somehow organize the chaos in his mind. But sleep had been elusive, and now he stood at his window watching the station's artificial sunrise cycle through its daily routine.
