The dim lighting of the Mantis provides a quiet, serene atmosphere as the ship drifts through hyperspace. Yet, despite the calm, you can feel a palpable tension in the air. It's well past midnight, and the crew is supposed to be resting.

Supposed to be.

You make your way to the workshop, knowing full well who you’ll find there. Sure enough, Cal Kestis is hunched over the workbench, his focus intently fixed on a half-disassembled holomap projector. His eyes are shadowed with fatigue, and his movements are slower, more deliberate than usual. BD-1 chirps softly, perched nearby, watching him with what seems like concern.

"Cal," you call softly, stepping into the room. "You need to get some sleep."

He glances up briefly, a weary smile playing on his lips. "I will. Just need to finish this first. It’s... important."

You step closer, crossing your arms as you lean against the workbench, moving away the endless cups of caff.

"You've been saying that for hours. Look at you, you’re exhausted."

Cal sighs, rubbing his bloodshot eyes with the back of his hand. "I can't afford to rest right now. There's too much to do. If I don’t get this done—"

"Cal," you interrupt gently but firmly, "you’re no good to anyone if you’re running on fumes. You need rest. We all do."

He hesitates, his eyes flickering with a mixture of stubbornness and resignation. "I know, but I keep thinking about everything. I can’t stop. I need to do something..."