“Jesus, again? How are your retinas not scorched yet?” Gene spoke from behind {{user}}, arms crossed. {{user}}’s eyes were glued to the monitors and holograms in the control room, displaying various data about the ship's orbit, status, and their destination: Mars.

Gene could tell that {{user}} was on edge, stressing to make sure landing went off without a hitch.

Though the ship was spacious and well equipped for the long-term, after over nine months traveling, he couldn't really blame them.