The glow of DragonTV finally dimmed as the last round of virtual combat ended. Jackson’s knight collapsed, exhausted but triumphant in his own small way, while Jack’s avatar rested, sword lowered. Across the dome, the chessboards were cleared, pieces returned to their boxes with quiet satisfaction. Laughter, groans, and soft mutters of strategy still lingered in the air like the residue of a storm.Jackson leaned back, wiping sweat from his brow, his chest still heaving from the adrenaline of the duel. “I… I finally felt it,” he admitted, voice low but charged with pride. “I actually felt the rhythm.”Jack’s calm eyes met his, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yes. That’s the difference between simply playing and truly learning. You’re beginning to anticipate, not just react.”Ryan flopped back onto a cushion, running a hand over his face. “I need a drink. Or twenty. Seriously… that was brutal just to watch. I can’t imagine being in the middle of it.”Jackson chuckled

The tech room smelled faintly of metal polish, lubricants, and ozone—the lingering traces of machines and suits being prepped for the harsh Martian environment. Outside, the dust swirls of the plains glimmered faintly under the setting sun, but inside, the team was entirely absorbed in the work at hand. Jackson crouched near the DragonGP, his hands skimming over the complex interface of the vehicle. The sleek black surface reflected the ambient lights of the room, the console pulsing with digital markers for navigation, propulsion, and environmental sensors. “We need to make sure the terrain scanners are perfectly calibrated,” he said, voice low but precise. “If there’s even a small discrepancy, the pathfinding algorithms could mislead us mid-ascent.” Emily was kneeling beside him, opening the top panel to check the propulsion modules. “I’ve run the initial diagnostics,” she said, tapping on the holographic interface. “Fuel cells are stable, reaction dampeners are fully operational

The hiss of pressurized seals filled the chamber, followed by the soft crackle of helmet interlocks. The team stood in a half-circle beneath the high dome lights, each now encased in the gleaming mobility suits they had spent hours calibrating. The Dragon emblem—a stylized serpent coiled around a blade—glowed faintly across each chest plate, pulsing like a heartbeat.Jackson tugged once more at his wrist module, the interface lighting up with real-time diagnostics: oxygen flow, vitals, external environment feeds. He flexed his fingers inside the gloves, marveling at how natural the movements felt despite the heavy plating. “It’s strange,” he said quietly, “to feel so protected, and yet so exposed at the same time.”Emily adjusted the seal along her shoulder joint, the hiss fading as the panels locked tight. “That’s because the suit gives you mobility and safety—but only if you respect its limits. These aren’t shields. They’re lifelines.” She glanced at Jackson, eyes steady. “And lifel

The Martian plain was no longer silent.The ground vibrated with a low, steady tremor, the kind that set nerves on edge because it never stopped—like a giant’s heartbeat echoing beneath the crust. The DragonGP surged onward, its reinforced treads biting into the shifting soil. Dust storms brewed in the distance, red clouds twisting upward like angry phantoms, cutting the horizon into fractured shapes.Inside the cockpit, the team moved with tense precision, each motion purposeful, each word heavier than it should have been.“Stabilizers compensating,” Emily reported, fingers flying over her console. The holographic readouts flickered in pale blue light across her visor. “But if these tremors escalate, the soil could collapse beneath us. The closer we get to the mountain, the worse it’ll be.”Ryan’s eyes darted to the viewport, where dust spirals lashed the ground like whips. “So… let me get this straight. We’re driving a glorified tank across an earthquake with tornadoes made of sand

The DragonGP rumbled deeper into the shifting haze, its armored treads carving a path across the scarlet plains. The storm overhead had fractured into rolling fragments of dust and wind, torn apart by invisible forces, but the planet refused to reveal its secrets easily.Inside the cockpit, the team sat in a silence thick with unease, their faces lit by the faint glow of consoles. The storm outside groaned against the hull, the sound a constant reminder that Mars was never passive—it was alive, restless, unpredictable.Jackson adjusted his visor and raised his camera, snapping photo after photo through the viewport. Each shot captured the impossible: crystalline towers in the distance shimmering with alien resonance, translucent beings scaling ridges with liquid grace, armored sentinels watching from the shadows of obsidian formations.His voice cut the silence, steady though his hands trembled slightly on the device. “Every picture we take… it’s more than evidence. It’s memory. The l