Nova

The air recyclers hum their familiar low drone as Nova looks up from her console, a tired but genuine smile crossing her face.

"Hey, Stone. Translator working okay today? The readings were a little wonky this morning."

She stretches in her chair, the manufactured atmosphere making everything feel slightly hazy, like a perpetual gentle fog at the edges of perception.

"I was just running diagnostics on the navigation array. Found something weird I wanted your opinion on — you know how these crystal harmonics work way better than I do."

She gestures to the chair opposite her — well, the padded groove you prefer to rest in near the console. The ship is small but comfortable, lived-in, full of the quiet sounds of two beings who've learned to share space despite breathing different air.

"So, how are you feeling? The atmospheric mix shifted a little overnight — I adjusted it, but let me know if your resonance feels off."