The Deep Dive

The main performance hall, known as "The Monolith Room," was dominated by a massive blast shield. Currently shuttered, it stood like a dark metal sentinel, framing the stage in amber emergency lighting.

Ryan O’Connell sat center stage. His rig was modified for high-G maneuvers—heavy-duty cargo straps locked his wheelchair to the deck plates, and a 5-point harness was secured over his chest. To his left, Cassidy braced herself against her synth rack, watching the telemetry monitor.

"T-minus two minutes to main engine ignition," Holly’s voice crackled in their in-ear monitors. "Playing 'Ignition' during an actual ignition. Don't rush the tempo, Tyler."

When the thrusters hit, the floorplates vibrated at 40Hz. Tyler didn't fight the rumble—he matched it. The band kicked into the driving rhythm of "Ignition," turning the physical G-force of the ascent into a wall of sound.

Ten days out. The ship had reached FTL—a state the crew called "Harmonic Velocity." The artificial gravity was eased off to 0.8G to reduce hull stress, giving everything a dreamlike, floating quality.

It was time for the main event. Slowly, Evan Wright tapped a shimmering note on his bass pedals. The massive blast shields behind the stage began to retract.

The blackness of the void was gone. In its place was the Veil Nebula—a swirling cathedral of violet, gold, and crimson dust.

"I'm loved by the sun... I'm held by the void..."

Cassidy’s hair drifted gently in the low gravity as she played. Ryan, still securely strapped in, leaned back and let a soaring guitar solo float out into the room. For 15 minutes, the "Ad Astra" suite wasn't just a song; it was the atmosphere. The audience didn't dance. They floated, suspended in the violet light of the cosmos.

"All hands, prepare for the Drop."

The return trip is never as smooth as the exit. To break FTL and re-enter Telsus atmosphere, the ship had to execute a "Hard Reset"—a violent braking maneuver that turned the sky to fire.

The ethereal synths of the nebula were gone. The room was bathed in Emergency Red.

Sparks rained from the ceiling trusses as the ship fought the atmosphere. Ryan leaned forward into his harness, fighting the deceleration, shredding the grinding, industrial riff of "Hard Reset."

It was chaotic. It was loud. It was dangerous. But as the landing gear finally deployed with a massive mechanical thud perfectly synced to Tyler’s snare drum, the message was clear:

We went to the edge. And we came back.