Tatehan woke feeling remarkably refreshed. The combination of a hot bath, a proper al, and uninterrupted sleep had worked wonders. His body no longer ached with that deep, bone-tired exhaustion from yesterday. His mind felt clear and alert.
He stretched luxuriously in bed, taking his ti before finally getting up.
First stop: the hygiene station.
He stepped inside and activated the nozzles, letting the warm water cascade over him for a few minutes, a quick morning rinse rather than the lengthy therapeutic soak of last night. After drying off, he turned his attention to sothing he’d been doing regularly but hadn’t really thought much about: dental hygiene.
The spaceship’s hygiene station included a comprehensive oral care system, a cleaning solution that tasted remarkably like mint toothpaste from Earth, along with sothing resembling a toothbrush but more advanced, with soft bristles that vibrated at specific frequencies designed to remove plaque more effectively than manual brushing.
Tatehan had been using it every morning and night since discovering it in his first week on the ship. It was one of those small acts of normalcy that helped him maintain a sense of routine and self-discipline. Two minutes of thorough brushing, careful attention to all surfaces, proper technique.
Back on Earth as Gavin, he’d been inconsistent about dental care, sotis brushing properly, sotis just a quick rushed job, sotis skipping it entirely when he was tired or lazy.
Surprisingly he never got a mouth odor as he was a rigorous brusher.
But after eting his girlfriend, everything seed to change. He brushed morning and night so he’d be able to kiss her in peace.
Here on Mars, with no dentists and no way to get dental care if sothing went wrong, he’d beco almost obsessive about it. He brushed thoroughly, used the cleaning solution exactly as designed, and took genuine pride in keeping his teeth in perfect condition.
As he brushed now, he caught his reflection in the polished tal surface that served as a mirror. The minty taste of the cleaning solution was sharp and refreshing, waking him up more fully.
He wondered why there wasn’t any advanced stuff that cleaned his teeth though. Maybe there was though but he hadn’t found it. This place was as high tech as possible.
When he finished, his mouth felt incredibly clean, that particular freshness that made everything taste better for the next hour or so.
He dressed in clean casual clothes and headed to the kitchen area, deciding on coffee as his first priority.
He prepared the coffee with efficiency, waiting for the water to heat, adding the dark powder from the sealed container, stirring until it dissolved completely.
The rich, bitter aroma filled the small kitchen space, and Tatehan inhaled deeply, appreciating it.
While the coffee cooled to a drinkable temperature, he decided he needed so physical activity. His body felt rested, but not quite energized. A little exercise would help.
He moved to an open section of the main cabin and dropped into a push-up position.
Then he began: one, two, three...
He maintained proper form—back straight, core engaged, elbows at the correct angle, full range of motion down and up. His enhanced physical capabilities made the exercise easier than it would have been back on Earth as Gavin, but he still felt the pleasant burn in his chest and arms as he continued.
...twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven...
His breathing remained steady and controlled. The partial regeneration ability ant his muscles recovered faster than normal, but he could still work them hard enough to feel the effort. The ability was actually a really good one.
...fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four...
The repetitive motion was ditative in its own way. Up and down, steady rhythm, focusing on form and breathing rather than counting.
...eighty-one, eighty-two, eighty-three...
Finally, he reached one hundred and held the final position for a mont before pushing himself up to standing.
A light sweat had ford on his skin, and his arms felt pleasantly fatigued. That would do.
He returned to the kitchen, grabbed his now perfectly cooled (still hot in a way) coffee, and walked to the pilot’s seat where he settled in comfortably.
Now Tatehan sat on the pilot seat, his face carrying a distinctly bored expression as he sipped his coffee and stared out the viewport at the unchanging Martian landscape.
He’d decided he wouldn’t bother with breakfast. Coffee was enough for now.
"You know," he said aloud to the AI, breaking the silence, "it’s weird how life suddenly becos boring when I’m not on dangerous missions or doing intensive repairs. Like, I wished for calm and safety, and now that I have it, I’m just... sitting here feeling restless."
[That’s a common psychological phenonon,] the AI replied. [Humans often struggle with the transition from high-stress survival mode to periods of relative calm. Your nervous system has adapted to constant vigilance and activity. Rest is needed for recovery, but it can feel uncomfortable initially.]
"Yeah, I guess," Tatehan said, taking another sip of coffee. "Still feels weird though."
[The rest is actually necessary,] the AI continued. [Your body and mind both need ti to fully recover from the intensive repair work and the combat encounters you’ve experienced recently. When will you be transferring the spaceship to your inventory, by the way?]
Tatehan paused, considering the question. "I’m still thinking about it, honestly. Now that I’ve reached the threshold, I’m not sure I’m ready to actually do it yet. Once it’s in my inventory, I can’t live in it anymore, and I haven’t figured out where I’m going to stay instead."
[A reasonable concern. There’s no rush. The threshold has been reached, which ans the option is available whenever you decide the timing is right.]
"Exactly."
There was silence for a while after that. Tatehan continued sipping his coffee, occasionally glancing at the viewport and the desolate red-brown landscape beyond.
The ship felt almost too quiet and still. After days of constant activity and noise—tools clanging, systems humming, the AI giving constant instructions, this peaceful stillness was almost unnerving.
His eyes drifted to the historical radio device that he’d taken from its usual spot and placed on the pilot’s seat armrest earlier.
Tatehan picked it up, examining it more closely. It was roughly the size of a large smartphone from Earth but thicker, with a small screen, several buttons, and a retractable antenna.
He looked over the various features and controls, familiarizing himself with the interface. There was a power switch, a frequency dial, a volu control, and several preset buttons.
It felt like he was looking at it for the very first ti, mainly because now he was paying more attention to the features than looking at it normally.
Finally, he flicked it on.
Imdiately, static hissed from the small speaker, white noise filling the quiet cabin. Tatehan adjusted the frequency dial slowly, searching for sothing, anything.
The static continued for several seconds, then suddenly cleared as he hit a particular frequency.
The usual voice began speaking:
[Historical overview of current Martian military structure. Mars maintains several independent fleet commanders, each representing one of the noble houses or major corporate entities that survived the Great Space Dragon War. These commanders control functional spacecraft capable of atmospheric and orbital operations.]
Tatehan leaned forward, suddenly very interested.
[Fleet engagents occur regularly in what are classified as planetary theater conflicts—wars and territorial disputes that take place primarily within Mars’ atmosphere and orbital space. These differ from interplanetary conflicts, which involve spacecraft combat between Mars and other colonized bodies within the solar system.]
The voice continued matter-of-factly: [Current active noble houses with fleet capabilities include—]
The static suddenly hissed louder, drowning out the voice completely. Then the transmission cut off entirely, replaced once again by pure white noise.
Tatehan adjusted the dial, trying to recover the signal, but it was gone.
He flicked the device off, setting it back down on the armrest.
The information had been random and brief, but it was valuable nonetheless.
So there were actual fleets on Mars. Spacecrafts that could fly, fight, and operate in orbit. That was significant. It ant Mars wasn’t just scattered settlents and wasteland territories, there was genuine organized military power, space-capable forces, and complex politics between noble houses.
Though he had so dearly wanted to hear the na of the houses before the radio went off.
’Curse you!, you damn radio device!’ he scread in his mind.
And the ntion of interplanetary conflicts was fascinating. That suggested there were other colonized locations beyond Mars. Other human settlents on different planets or moons within the solar system.
What Tatehan was particularly curious about was whether those other colonies were purely human, or if there were alien civilizations involved as well. The radio hadn’t clarified that.
Maybe humans had successfully terraford other locations, made them habitable for human life beyond just Mars and Earth. That would explain interplanetary human conflicts.
Or maybe there were alien species involved, and the conflicts were more complex than just human politics.
He filed the information away ntally. It was worth investigating further when he had the chance.
Suddenly, Tatehan started slightly in his seat, rembering sothing important.
He hadn’t actually used the communication device yet! The phone-like device the commander had given him, he’d been carrying it around, but he hadn’t explored its functions beyond the basic contact list.
That could definitely help pass the ti. And maybe he’d discover so interesting features or capabilities he didn’t know about.
Ti to actually figure out what this thing could do.
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