The ship drifted on a steady course, engines humming in a way that never fully faded into the background. Power ran clean through the conduits, shield layers cycled on schedule, and the navigation locked in and recalculating every few seconds as Jupiter's gravity well tugged at their trajectory. Nothing was wrong with the ship, and that somehow made everything feel worse.
Requiem stayed in the pilot's seat even though the autopilot had control. His hands rested on the console, not gripping it, not relaxed either. He stared straight ahead at the forward display like looking away might make something slip through unnoticed.
Viola stood at the sensor station, posture straight, shoulders tight. She ran another sweep, waited for the cooldown, and ran it again even though she already knew what the result would be.
"No new signals," she said. "No traffic. No delayed pings. Nothing hiding in the noise. We requested permission to land, now awaiting a response."
