A gentle hum filled the air, the soft vibrations of the Obsidian Wraith coursing through its newly reinforced hull. The ship was alive, stable, and running at peak efficiency. A welcome change from the barely-functioning state it had been in for a few months now.
Ethan stirred, slowly emerging from the depths of what had been one of the most restful sleeps in recent memory. His new adaptive memory-foam mattress conformed perfectly to his body, making it almost impossible to convince himself to get up. The climate-control system, newly upgraded, maintained the room at the perfect temperature. Not too warm, not too cold.
He stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, blinking against the soft glow of the indirect lighting. It was a dangerous level of comfort, he realized. If he wasn't careful, he could get used to this. Too used to it.
His life had never been about luxury. Good sleep was a rarity, something stolen in short bursts between missions, in a cramped quarter or under the glow of unfamiliar stars. Now, in the sanctuary of his newly repaired, fully stocked, and optimized to perfection ship, he almost felt like an outsider in his own world.
He exhaled slowly.
Don't overthink it. You have things to do.
Rolling out of bed, he stretched, his muscles slightly sore from the previous night's workout. The ship's artificial gravity had been tuned for standard planetary weight, making movement feel completely natural. As he stood, the lights in his quarters adjusted automatically, increasing their brightness in smooth increments rather than jarring him with an immediate, blinding glare.
Another nice touch.
The Obsidian Wraith was new in many ways. Upgraded systems, refurbished interiors, and subtle but meaningful quality-of-life improvements. It felt cleaner, more efficient, yet slightly unfamiliar. He'd spent so long living aboard the old, battered version of this ship that the adjustments felt almost foreign.
I'll get used to it, he thought as he grabbed a fresh set of clothes and made his way to the bathroom.
The moment Ethan stepped into the bathroom, the ship's smart sensors detected his presence and initiated the startup sequence. A soft chime sounded as the lights adjusted, shifting from standby mode to a natural white glow that mimicked morning sunlight. A faint mist of ionized air dispersed through the vents, neutralizing any lingering impurities in the atmosphere, ensuring the room remained pristine.
The air smelled clean and fresh, completely sterile, yet oddly refreshing. No traces of oil, metal, or station grime that usually clung to shipboard life.
He ran a hand through his hair and stepped toward the shower stall, a reinforced glass enclosure with a streamlined control panel embedded in the wall. The moment he pressed his palm against it, the system scanned his biometric data and activated.
The water surged to life, pouring down from the ceiling-mounted dispenser in a perfect cascade, hitting his shoulders with the right balance of heat and pressure. The sensation was immediate and invigorating, the heat soaking into his muscles, melting away the last remnants of sleep and tension.
Ethan leaned forward, resting his forehead against the cool metal wall, letting the steam rise around him, enveloping him in a cocoon of warmth.
No cold-water shocks. No half-broken dispensers. No unfiltered station runoff with that faint metallic aftertaste.
It was, in every way, a luxury. Showers in his old ship had been basic at best, frustrating at worst. Half the time, he was lucky to get lukewarm water for more than a minute before the system started fluctuating. But now?
Now, it was perfect.
For a brief moment, he simply stood there, breathing in the faint scent of sterilized air, allowing himself to enjoy the experience before finally reaching for the cleansing gel. The scent of subtle citrus and deep earthy notes filled the air as he lathered up, scrubbing away the fatigue still clinging to his skin.
He finished quickly, stepping out and grabbing a dark towel from the heated rack. The smart ventilation system had already begun filtering out excess moisture, leaving the bathroom pristine and fog-free.
A quick shave followed. His high-frequency razor hummed softly, its ultrasonic vibrations ensuring a close, irritation-free cut. A few careful strokes, and he was done.
By the time he stepped out into the main living quarters, dressed in a simple black long-sleeve shirt and cargo pants, he felt refreshed and alert.
Then his stomach growled.
Time to test out the new kitchen.
Ethan made his way toward the ship's galley, taking in the clean, polished metal flooring beneath his feet. The space had undergone significant upgrades during the last overhaul. Gone were the days were he was forced to rely on bland, protein and vitamin-packed nutritional capsules for far too long.
Instead, his ship now featured a sleek, fully-automated cooking system, designed to prepare real meals instead of just sustaining him.
At its core was the Auto-Cooker, a high-end unit designed specifically for deep-space travel. Using a combination of prepackaged food cartridges and freshly preserved meal pods, it could assemble a restaurant-quality dish within minutes.
This was a game-changer.
Ethan approached the holo-menu display, flicking through the options with a few lazy gestures. The selection was vast, thanks to the supplies he'd picked up before leaving Kynara. Various dishes from different planetary cuisines scrolled past his vision. Protein-rich Argossian stews, light Terran omelets, spice-infused Myr'va grain bowls, but he settled on something hearty.
A traditional Kynaran breakfast platter.
The moment he selected it, the meal pod slid into place, locking into the Auto-Cooker's dispensing slot. The machine hummed softly as its mechanical arms whirred to life, scanning the contents and initiating the precise heating, moisture regulation, and plating process.
A countdown appeared on the display screen.
Ready in 2 minutes.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. That fast?
Sure enough, the system chimed, and the compartment slid open, revealing a freshly prepared, steaming-hot meal.
The aroma hit him immediately, a rich blend of warm spices, crisped meats, and roasted grains.
Ethan's breakfast was a feast of rich flavors and textures, starting with the Spiced Ember-Grain Cakes, their golden-brown edges crisp yet fluffy inside. Made from Kynara's high-protein grains, they carried an earthy depth, enhanced by hints of nutmeg, saffron, and citrus zest. A drizzle of thick honeyed syrup pooled along the edges, adding just the right touch of sweetness. Beside them, the Fire-Roasted Neru Sausages stood out. Thick and succulent, their crispy outer casing bearing a perfect flame-seared char.
Completing the meal were two Solar-Fried Torvian Eggs, their whites perfectly set while the amber-hued yolks remained deliciously runny. The heat-generated plasma induction gave them a precise sear without overcooking, while ground pepperroot, salt, and pungent crimson spice provided a bold, lingering kick. To balance the hearty elements, Glazed Root Strips added a touch of lightness. Thin slices of root vegetables, lightly caramelized and coated in a delicate citrus reduction, blending sweetness with a refreshing tang. With a steaming mug of Kynaran darkbrew to wash it all down, strong and smooth with just the right bitter edge, the meal was as close to perfect as one could get in deep space.
Ethan picked up the mug first, bringing it to his lips.
Bitter. Strong. Smooth.
The caffeine kick hit almost instantly, a slow warmth spreading through his system. Exactly what he needed to start his final day in Kynara.