Chapter 5: The Landing

(Elys returns to the pods )

"Report!" Holt's voice barked through the stillness, cutting through the haze of fear and confusion. As Head Commander, his voice carried a weight that silenced the chaos instantly. Elys glanced up, catching sight of the man's rigid figure near the command console, his expression tight and unreadable.

"Everyone, sound off!" Rena added, her voice clear and steady. Despite the cuts on her face and the blood trickling from her temple, she was a pillar of calm amidst the disorder. The Pilot Commander's presence seemed to ground them, pulling the Exiles back from the edge of panic.

Slowly, one by one, people began to respond.

"Pod 1, mostly intact," Rena called out as she checked the systems. "Minor structural damage. Navigation systems are functional, but we've got no comms with the Ark."

"Pod 2 reporting one casualty!" someone shouted from the hallway that connected their pod to the next. Elys winced, recognizing the voice as belonging to Dax, one of the guards. "A guard… he didn't make it."

Holt's jaw tightened, but he nodded sharply. "Check the rest. We need comms operational now."

Elys swallowed hard, his gaze darting to the doorway that led into Pod 2. He could see the smoke drifting through the seams, could hear the muffled sounds of voices on the other side. The hallway between Pod 1 and Pod 2 was still intact, but the second pod looked like it had taken a harder hit.

"I'll go," he said before he could think it through. Rena glanced at him sharply, then gave a curt nod.

"Be careful," she said softly. There was no command in her tone, just a quiet, unspoken concern that made his chest tighten.

Elys stepped into the narrow passage that connected Pod 1 to Pod 2. The walls were scorched, the lights flickering weakly as he moved through the dimly lit corridor. He pushed open the door to the second pod and froze.

The inside of Pod 2 was chaos. A haze of smoke hung in the air, making it hard to see. People were coughing, hunched over, and Elys could smell the distinct tang of burnt metal. Sparks flared from a shattered console near the back, casting eerie, flickering shadows across the panicked faces of the Exiles.

"Get away from that!" someone shouted. Elys turned to see a girl—no, a woman—yanking a younger Exile away from the sparking panel. She was tall and broad-shouldered, with a dark ponytail and a fierce expression that belied her youth. He recognized her as Vanya, the daughter of one of the Ark's council members. One of the few who knew the real stakes behind their mission.

"What happened?" Elys asked, his voice low. Vanya glanced at him, her eyes narrowing briefly before recognition softened her features.

"Systems overloaded during the landing," she muttered, gesturing to the console. "It shorted out and took out half our comms. We're blind."

"And the guard?" Elys pressed. Vanya's gaze darkened.

"Crushed by the panel when it blew. He never had a chance."

Elys swallowed, glancing around at the Exiles clustered near the walls. Most of them looked shaken but unhurt, though there was a tension in the air that was palpable. Fear was a living thing here, thick and suffocating.

"We need to establish contact with Pod 3," Vanya said, snapping his attention back to her. "They've got the supplies. If they took the hit like we did…"

"I'm on it," Elys said quickly. He turned, pushing back through the hallway, his thoughts racing. This was bad. Worse than any of them had expected. And they hadn't even begun to deal with the world outside.

Pod 3: The First Step

Elys entered Pod 3 cautiously, bracing himself for more chaos. But to his surprise, the third pod was… quiet. There was smoke, and the sharp scent of burning metal, but no screaming, no frantic shouts. Instead, a tense silence hung over the group gathered inside.

A tall, lean figure stepped forward as Elys entered. He recognized the man instantly—Soren, one of the guards assigned to Pod 3. Soren was calm, almost unnervingly so, his blue eyes cool and assessing as they met Elys's gaze.

"Status?" Elys asked quietly.

"No casualties," Soren replied, his tone clipped. "But the main door's jammed. We've been trying to cut through it, but it's slow going."

Elys glanced over his shoulder at the twisted metal of the entrance. The door connecting Pod 3 to the outside world was buckled, the frame warped from the impact. It would take time—too much time—to get it open.

"What about supplies?" he asked, scanning the room. The third pod was lined with shelves and crates, all marked with the Ark's insignia. Food, weapons, medical kits—everything they needed to survive for a year, maybe more, if they rationed carefully.

"Intact," Soren confirmed. "But we can't move most of it until we get the door unjammed."

Elys nodded, his gaze shifting to the small group huddled near the back of the pod. Most of them looked unhurt, but there were a few who held their arms or cradled their sides, grimacing in pain.

"Eight injured," Soren said quietly, following his gaze. "Nothing life-threatening, but we'll need to get them checked out properly."

Elys's chest tightened. They'd made it down, but just barely. They were bruised, battered, and barely holding it together. And they were supposed to be the first step—the foothold for the Ark's return to Earth.

"What now?" Soren asked, his voice soft. There was no fear in his tone, only a steady, quiet determination that made Elys look up sharply.

"Now," Elys said slowly, "we regroup. We get everyone out, set up a perimeter, and then…" He trailed off, glancing at the twisted metal door.

"And then we see what's waiting for us outside."

Soren's gaze didn't waver. "Whatever it is, we're ready."

But as Elys turned back toward the hallway, he felt the weight of the syringe in his pocket—a cold, ominous reminder of what he'd seen in the forest. Whatever waited for them out there… they weren't ready for it.