Dawn

The pre-dawn light began to seep through the dense jungle canopy, turning the heavy violet fog into a glowing, amber mist.

Terry stood up from the volcanic rock at the perimeter, his body aching from the heavy, suffocating warmth that still thrummed beneath his skin. Beside him, Captain Elise sat quietly, pulling her field jacket back over her shoulders and zipping it to her chin. The unspoken weight of what had just happened hung between them, but as the first birds of Haven began to call through the petrified trees, the reality of their situation snapped back into focus.

"We can't just march south blindly," Terry said, his voice raspy as he wiped sweat and glowing pollen from his forehead. "If Mitchell's crew went down into a lower rift forty-five years ago, we don't know what kind of atmospheric density or terrain we're walking into. Pushing forward without knowing what happened to them inside that pod is suicide."

Elise looked over at the rusted, root-strangled module resting in the ravine. Her eyes narrowed, the military strategist replacing the raw, uninhibited woman from moments ago.

"The audio log was just a fragment," Elise agreed, her tone turning sharp and measured once more. "Mitchell mentioned data slates and logs, but a survey unit of that era carried a hardwired central core display. If the pod’s auxiliary bank has any remaining cell capacity, the full visual archives and regional topographical maps will still be on that drive."

"My field kit has copper jumpers and step-down transformers," Terry replied, stepping toward the supply crates. "I can pull power from our portable cells and splice it directly into their main bus. Give me an hour at first light. We boot their main terminal, see what we're actually up against, and then we make our move."

Elise stood up, smoothing down her tunic. "Agreed. I'll wake Emma and have her prepare the decryption protocols. We don't take a single step toward that rift until we know what Mitchell saw."