William took a deep breath in as he stepped off the transport. The fresh air hit him first, then the colors. Even with the creeping corporatism, he couldn't overlook one thing- Red Valley City was beautiful. He took a moment just to look out into the city. Gazing at the integrated trees along the street, the angular buildings, and the minimalist design.

  “Well let’s see…” he pulled out his datapad and began looking at the Email again.

  “143 New Mars Street.” he looked back up, and checked the map of Red Valley on the wall by the transport station. “Research district.”

  He nodded, and began following the pine trees into the city, making sure to check each split for the street names. Gunning street, Pennsylvania street- he passed street after street, before finally coming to New Mars street.

  It was smaller than he anticipated. More of an alleyway than a street- though he was sure it was fairly common in the space conscious Red Valley. He walked forward to the small garage-like door and knocked.

  The door slid upwards almost immediately, a woman standing behind it with smile.

  “William Nightingale?” She asked, pulling up her datapad and typing in a couple small notes. William raised an eyebrow, but replied calmly.

  “Yes that's me.”

  The woman glanced down at her datapad once more, tapped in another note, then stepped aside. “You’re early! Come right in, William.”

  William ducked under the rising door and into the space beyond. The door slid shut behind him with a muted hiss, sealing away the noise of the city.

  Inside, the hallway was- plain.

  Not bare- just deliberately Matte. Gray walls were broken only by thin seams where panels met. The floor had the faint give of composite plating beneath his boots. No windows. No visible screens. The air smelled faintly of recycled oxygen and something metallic, which was unusual since Red Valley always used fresh air from their algae vats.

  “Hm.”

  He felt his shoulders tense before he consciously realized why- This wasn’t an office. It was mode a ship's interior. The woman walked down the hallway and gestured to an open airlock with one hand.

  “Go ahead and take a seat, William.”

  William strolled forward and entered the room- the blinking lights and view port simulating space all familiar sights.

  “What is this?” he asked, sitting down in the only seat in the room. It was bolted to the floor, with thick padding and a safety harness.

  “Your interview.” She said calmly, closing the airlock.

  The surface of the simulated viewport shimmered, resolving into a simple tactical display- an asteroid field, with several points of interest highlighted all around him.

  “This isn’t an interview,” He said, but clicked himself into the harness.

  “It’s a simulation.” She answered, voice crackling through the speakers around the room. “We’ll be observing how you communicate under stress. You have two objectives- communicating with us, answering our questions. And- getting to those points of interest.”

  William nodded, and pressed a button on the controls.

  “I understand ma'am.”

  “Then lets begin.” A countdown began on the screens, and William quickly grabbed the control stick

  The countdown hit zero, and the simulated ship lurched gently as the field came fully online, stars growing brighter, asteroid bodies resolving into uneven, rotating masses. The control stick responded with a faint vibration beneath William’s palm- just enough to feel real without pretending to be.

  The calm tone of the interviewer came through the speakers

  “Simulation active. State your name.”

  William adjusted the thrusters by instinct, easing the ship into a shallow drift to keep clear of a tumbling rock- feeling the stick shake as a smaller piece hit the ‘ship’, screen flashing a dull red. He began to check critical systems as he answered.

  “William Nightingale.”

  “Age?”

  “Twenty Eight.” He responded, the simulation flashing green as he reached one of the points of interest.

  “Place of birth?”

  “Earth.” William took a hard right, avoiding an asteroid heading straight for him- he managed to avoid being hit.

  A pause. The ship coasted smoothly between two slow-moving stones- passing through a point of interest.

  “And why did you leave earth and come to mars?”

  William’s fingers tightened slightly on the controls. He didn’t look away from the viewport, but his knuckles had turned white. He heard some faint voices from somewhere, but ignored it.

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  “Work.”

  The voice didn’t challenge him, but-

  “Clarify.”

  He exhaled through his nose. “There was no way to continue without lying to myself, to others- and I wanted to help where it actually mattered.”

  Another marker appeared on the display- close. Easy. He nudged the ship toward it, correcting for rotational drift, and failing- his ‘wing’ scraping against one of the asteroids, screen flashing red again.

  “Education level?”

  “High school diploma- but trade-certified. Structural drilling, vacuum operations, aviation.”

  “Any command experience?”

  “No.” Another point of interest lit green as he passed through it. A second marker appeared immediately- farther this time, partially obscured by debris.

  “Do you want command experience?” the woman asked.

  William tilted the ship slightly, compensating for a dense cluster ahead. “Not particularly.”

  “Why did apply to the October Project, then?”

  That one made his hand twitch, shaking the ‘ship’ slightly. He took a deep breath and steadied his hand before answering.

  “Because I don’t want to die doing something pointless,” he said. “And I don’t want to work for corporations again. I see them creeping in.”

  The simulation didn’t wait. A proximity warning flashed as a shard drifted too close. William corrected immediately.

  “Next question,” the woman said.

  A new overlay appeared- two blinking indicators, faint. His control panel showed two heartbeats and O2 tank meters- both nearly empty.

  “Hypothetical,” she continued. “Two individuals are adrift nearby. Oxygen reserves are critically low. You may only reach one- which one do you attempt to save?”

  William’s expression didn’t change, but he began heading in a neutral path between the two points of interest.

  “the one on the left is wealthy. They may give a payout on their safety, and return to civilization.” she said. “On the right is a highly experienced ship repair specialist. Poor, but extremely skilled.”

  He answered instantly, pointing the ship to the right and gunning to towards the ping. “I'd go for the repair tech.”

  “No hesitation,” she noted.

  William snorted softly. “Why would there be?”

  “Explain.”

  He guided the ship toward the marker, letting the other drift just outside.

  “Because money doesn’t keep a ship alive,” he said. “And it doesn’t make someone useful in a vacuum.”

  “And if the wealthy individual offers you a comfortable life wherever you wish to be?”

  William didn’t even look at the indicators.

  “He shouldn’t have been on the ship,” he said flatly. “Just because you can afford to go to space doesn’t mean you belong there.”

  He pushed the ship forward, the other ping vanishing- a high pitched continuous tone playing from the console.

  "Belong,” the woman repeated. “Why's that? Doesn't everyone belong in the great unknown?”

  William leaned forward slightly- another countdown beginning in the corner of the screen- counting down from 30.

  “Going into space means knowing what you’re risking,” he said. “And not expecting someone else to die because you didn’t bother to learn.”

  The voice returned, unchanged in tone.

  “Continue.”

  William adjusted course. Only then did he realize his shoulders were tight- and sweat was dripping off his nose. The choice between two options, two people had taken more of a toll on him than he'd thought. He hoped it didn't affect his interview. He approached one final checkpoint, the screen freezing as it reached zero.

  “Alright, that's it for now.” Lights flashed on, and William covered his eyes with one hand as they did slowly unbuckling himself from the seat.

  “Are there any followups?”

  The woman gave a small smile and tapped her datapad. “No. We will contact you if you are accepted. Have a nice day, William.”

  He stood, looked around, and started walking back towards the door- exiting without looking back. If he was dismissed, he was dismissed- no if ands or buts.

  - - -

  Thump thump thump thump thump

  Williams feet hit the treadmill at a steady, rhythmic pace. His eyes stayed fixed on the miles counter projected faintly onto the wall ahead of him. Sweat traced a slow path down the side of his face, joining the darkened collar of his shirt. He kept his breath steady- in through the nose, out through the mouth- feeling the burn of his muscles as he hit five miles.

  The gym was never quiet, but it wasn’t loud either. The hum of machines, the clank of weights, the distant hiss of air cycling through the habitat systems. Familiar. Predictable. Peaceful.

  “Jesus, Will- do you sleep anymore, or have you been replaced with an android?”

  William glanced sideways without turning his head. Jeff hopped up on another treadmill beside him on the left. Towel slung over one shoulder, eyebrows raised.

  Carlton leaned against a weight rack nearby, arm still in its foam cast, while Isaac fumbled with the settings on an adjacent machine- he seemed to set it to a slower setting, just enough to keep him at a good pace for a while.

  “Do you live here now?” Jeff continued, his gruff voice breaking the peaceful atmosphere once more. “This is the third time I’ve seen you this week. Are you nesting in the rafters like a crazed goblin?”

  William exhaled, reached down, and thumbed the controls. The treadmill slowed, just enough that talking didn’t feel like a punishment.

  “Need to offset micro-” he said evenly, but was cut off.

  Carlton snorted, pointing a thumb at himself “Bullshit, that's m’ job. Doc ordered physical therapy.”

  William finally looked over at them. “Excuse me?”

  “You always meant to,” Carlton said. “You jus’ never did. Now suddenly you’re clocking double, even triple th’ time?”

  Isaac finally got his machine going and jogged lightly, glancing over. “Yeah. We all hit the gym, Microgravity doesn't care how tough you think you are. But you’ve been going hard.”

  William watched the numbers tick upward again- hitting seven miles.

  “Felt like I needed to.” he said.

  Jeff tilted his head. “why?”

  William considered telling them nothing. That would’ve been the easiest. But that also would be a lie by omission, and he hated lying.

  He shrugged instead. “Just in case I end up on drill rotation more often. Or get stuck somewhere ugly. It never hurts to be in better shape, especially after the accident.”

  Carlton studied him for a second longer than necessary. “You know they rotate drills based on schedule, not how far you can run, right?”

  “Didn’t say they did.” William replied, “I just figured- what if I was the one in the drill when the ground caved?”

  There was a pause. Jeff, Isaac- even Carlton now, all walking or jogging on the treadmills.

  Isaac broke the silence first. “Fair enough,” he said, increasing his speed. “Better than sitting around letting your muscles turn into thin spaghetti noodles. Aaah… spaghetti.”

  Jeff nodded slowly. “Yeah. Can’t argue with that.”

  The conversation drifted, all talking about food.

  “By the way- where's Quirie?” William asked, Isaac shrugging.

  “I assumed she was in a meeting or something.”

  William glanced at his distance gauge- he was at ten miles. He shut off the treadmill, the Machine slowing until the belt completely stopped. He scooped up his water bottle and took a deep gulp of water, sitting on one of the benches.

  “Yeah, but even then she never misses the chance to strengthen. She always says-” all four of them said the next phrase in unison- Carlton rolling his eyes with Jeff, Isaac standing straight as a board as he walked, and William matter-of-factly.

  “Never neglect your body, you must always be in peak condition.”

  They all chuckled as they finished the quote, William splashing some of the water over his head. The cool liquid felt nice against his hot skin.

  “Well it's probably about the incident. Didn't they say they were surveying a new area for drill 4b?”

  Isaac nodded, his distance steadily ticking up.

  “Yeah, she said something about that.”