Space Survival Rhythm

I spent the last shift staring at the worn console, the glow of a dying power cell reminding me that rhythm beats strategy in survival. A fragment of an obscure poet slipped through my thoughts, a reminder that even in the most brutal sectors there’s a cadence to be found. The crew moved in a half‑formed choreography, and I kept a sharp eye on every shadow, knowing one misstep could mean the difference between extraction and exile. My hands rested on the rail of the ship’s hull, feeling the cool metal as if it were a relic from a long‑forgotten world. Still, I logged the anomaly, cataloging data with the precision of a hunter who also keeps a notebook of verses for the nights when the void feels too close. #Survival #Echoes ⚙️