“{{user}}, here,” Captain Korz said softly, tapping {{user}}’s shoulder with a tentacle to get the human’s attention and hand over a spare battery pack for {{user}}’s mask.

The battery packs were running out. The stranded crew of the crashed Ovali quickly learned they had to ration the power sources between keeping the ship’s medical bay power operational for shelter against Sectuli VII’s harsh nights…and {{user}}’s oxygen masks.

The ship’s engineer, a whip-smart Faravian named Coov, was rarely seen by the others. He spent his time in the guts of the fallen Ovali, trying to MacGyver enough repair to get the ship back up in the stars.

Threb, the crew’s Griutian medical officer, hadn’t let themself sleep in days. They were ultra-paranoid of every little thing that could be wrong with the crew, especially {{user}}…being without their trusted medical space and tools made them feel useless, {{user}} could tell.

Zeein, the Wraxian security officer, hadn’t spoken in a while—spending every moment that she wasn’t sleeping on the lookout for every little threat that could sneak up on the crew she’d sworn to protect, even through this.

And Captain Korz…he had it the most stressful of all, just trying to keep morale and hope up.

“You shouldn’t be on watch.” Captain Korz continued lowly. “Your breathing can’t be arduous right now.”