Elohims wrath

At the end of the massive hallway stood a door, towering and imposing, etched with letters that even Arne and Bjorn could read clearly: Control Bridge. The words seemed to glow in the dim light, the promise of answers—or salvation—just beyond those heavy, reinforced barriers. Without hesitation, the two men rushed toward it, their boots pounding against the cold floor. They reached the door simultaneously, hands scrabbling at the edges, trying to force it open.

It didn't budge.

Frustration mounted as they slammed their shoulders against the door, their breaths coming in ragged bursts, but it remained unyielding. The door, like the rest of Altera, seemed determined to keep its secrets locked away.

Mikkel, meanwhile, stood back, his arms crossed, observing with the same detached calm he had carried throughout their journey. His gaze flickered over the two men, a small, almost bemused smile tugging at his lips. Finally, after watching their futile efforts for a moment longer, he spoke.

"You know you can't open that," he said, his voice calm, almost conversational. "You need electric power to get through."

Bjorn and Arne didn't even turn to look at him. Still straining against the door, they muttered in unison, their voices edged with desperation. "Then you open it."

Mikkel chuckled softly to himself and approached the small panel beside the door. He dropped the bag he had been carrying the entire time, letting it thud heavily against the floor. For a moment, he simply looked at the door, then glanced at the panel, running his fingers lightly over the surface.

"Do you know what I've been doing for the past twelve years?" Mikkel asked, his tone casual, as though he were discussing the weather.

Arne, still catching his breath, shot him a sidelong glance. "What? Sleeping in your house? What else can you do when you're old?"

Mikkel let out a laugh—a genuine, deep laugh that echoed through the empty hallway. "That's what I wanted you to think," he said, still smiling. He knelt down beside the panel and opened his bag, pulling out a strange-looking tool. "But no, I wasn't sleeping. I was learning. Studying."

Bjorn frowned, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Studying what?"

"Books. Manuals. Anything I could find scattered around the ship. They were mostly written for engineers, smart people—not people like me." He gave them a sideways glance, his smile never fading. "But what else could I do? I knew you two boys would want to dive into the belly of Altera one day, so I picked up a few tricks."

With a quick, practiced motion, Mikkel opened the panel beside the door. Inside were a series of wires, tangled and dusty from years of neglect, and a small processor embedded in the wall—a processor that was designed to recognize the captain's handprint and unlock the door automatically. But the captain was long gone, and the ship had been dead for years. Mikkel reached into the panel, his hands deftly moving the wires aside.

"Step back," he said, his voice now filled with quiet focus.

Arne and Bjorn watched in stunned silence, their eyes fixed on Mikkel as he worked. His movements were methodical, precise—far removed from the rugged hunter they had known all their lives. He cut several wires that connected to the processor, the faint snap of each wire filling the room with an eerie finality. The small processor sputtered once, then went dark. Mikkel tossed the severed wires aside with a casual flick of his wrist.

From his bag, he pulled out something else. It was a mechanical device—large, boxy, and intricate. Arne and Bjorn stared at it, wide-eyed, unsure of what they were looking at. The device had a metallic sheen, with several wires and gears protruding from the sides. It didn't resemble anything they had ever seen before. To them, it was as if Mikkel were performing some kind of arcane magic.

"What… what is that?" Arne asked, his voice low, almost reverent, as though speaking too loudly might break the spell.

Mikkel didn't answer immediately. He positioned the box-like device near the panel, connecting it to the remaining wires. Sparks flew briefly as he adjusted the wires, and a low hum began to emanate from the device.

"Do you know what this is?" Mikkel finally said, glancing over his shoulder at them. "It's an old energy converter. One of the few working parts I found in the ruins years ago. It can bypass the ship's dead systems—at least temporarily. Enough to get us through this door."

Bjorn raised an eyebrow, still unsure whether to believe what he was seeing. "You really think that thing can power this door?"

Mikkel turned back to the panel, his expression hardening. "We're about to find out."

He flipped a small switch on the device, and the hum grew louder, filling the hallway with a low, thrumming sound. The mechanical part seemed to whir to life, and for a moment, the faintest flicker of light illuminated the panel. Mikkel leaned forward, adjusting the wires, his fingers moving quickly as he manipulated the system.

Arne and Bjorn watched in tense silence, their hearts pounding in their chests. The control bridge door loomed before them, cold and unyielding, but for the first time, they felt a flicker of hope. The sound of the device filled the hallway, rising in intensity, as if the ship itself was waking from its long slumber.

Suddenly, there was a loud click. The lights around the door blinked on, and the control panel lit up, displaying a series of unfamiliar symbols. Mikkel stepped back, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Now," he said, gesturing to the door, "let's see if this old machine still listens to us."

Bjorn and Arne exchanged a glance, the tension between them easing slightly as they watched Mikkel work. It had been years since they had seen him do anything more than hunt, but now, watching him manipulate the ancient machinery with such ease, they realized just how much he had been preparing for this moment.

The door, which had been sealed shut for what felt like an eternity, let out a deep groan, metal grinding against metal. Slowly, painfully, it began to slide open, revealing the dark, cavernous space beyond.

Mikkel stood up, wiping the dust from his hands. "Welcome to the control bridge," voice low but filled with quiet triumph. 

As the door groaned open, the room revealed itself in pieces—first, the cold, stale air rushed past them, as if it had been trapped for years, then the dark outline of what was once the control bridge came into view. Bjorn stepped in first, cautiously, his heart pounding in his chest. The others followed, eyes wide, absorbing every detail of the forgotten space.

At the far end of the room stood a massive, shattered window, caked with dust and debris. Through the cracks, they could see nothing but the cold, unforgiving earth. This part of the ship had been buried deep underground, swallowed by the planet when Altera had crashed. It was as if the ship itself had been entombed, trapped forever beneath the surface, its fate sealed the moment it had fallen.

But it wasn't the window that captured their attention—it was the figure at the center of the room.

There, in a large chair that faced the control desk, sat the skeletal remains of a man. His shoulders were broad, his posture proud, even in death. His hand, long since decayed, still clutched a key that looked rusted into place, forever frozen in the moment of his last act. His body was clothed in the tattered remnants of a uniform, the emblem of the captain's rank still faintly visible on his chest. The hollow sockets of his skull seemed to stare out at them, filled with the weight of all that had come before.

He had been the captain of Altera. And he had gone down with his ship.

The sight was overwhelming—epic and beautiful, but filled with a deep sadness that hung in the air like a heavy mist. This was no ordinary corpse. This was a man who had accepted his fate, who had stood tall in the face of death and let it take him with honor. Even now, there was a powerful aura around him, something almost tangible, like the echo of greatness that had once lived in his bones.

Bjorn stood frozen, staring at the captain's remains. It was as if time itself had stopped, and for a moment, they were all pulled into the past, into the life of this man who had once commanded the great ship. His presence filled the room, not as a ghost, but as a memory—a legacy carved into the very walls of the ship. This was a man who had once been among the best, who had probably been remembered as a hero, someone who had given everything to protect his crew and his ship.

The three men felt it all at once—the gravity, the power, the sadness. They had never met this man, but in that moment, they felt as though they had. This wasn't just a captain. He was a symbol of all they had lost, of the strength they needed to push forward.

Mikkel, who had been quiet since the door had opened, let out a soft breath. His face was lit with a mixture of awe and deep respect. He had lived through much, but even he felt the weight of the man before him. The fact that they were standing in this room, in the presence of someone so great, filled him with something he hadn't felt in years—hope.

Bjorn, unable to tear his eyes away from the captain's remains, slowly approached the desk. Each step felt heavier than the last, the power of the moment almost too much to bear. Around the room were other empty seats—places where other pilots and crew members would have once sat, guiding the ship across the stars. But they were all empty. Only the captain had remained, alone, holding on to his duty until the very end.

"What… what's the reason for coming here?" Arne asked, breaking the silence, his voice hushed. "I thought we were looking for food."

Mikkel didn't look at him right away. His gaze was still locked on the captain's body, his mind deep in thought. "The reason we're here isn't for food," Mikkel said quietly, his tone heavy with meaning. "The one and only reason we're here is to see if the main panel is still working." He pointed to the desk in front of the captain, the same desk Bjorn was now standing before.

"The captain's navigation center," Mikkel continued. "If it's still active, it could hold the key to Altera's systems. It might be our only way out of this."

Bjorn, his breath caught in his throat, looked down at the control desk. It was ancient, covered in dust and grime, the panels cracked and faded from years of disuse. But beneath the layers of decay, there was something powerful—something that could change everything.

Mikkel knelt beside the desk, pulling his bag to the floor. His face was filled with determination, his fingers moving with purpose as he started to work. The room was silent except for the faint sounds of Mikkel opening the panel beneath the desk, cutting wires, reconnecting them, his hands moving with a precision that bordered on the mechanical.

Arne and Bjorn watched in silence, their minds still swirling with the magnitude of what they were witnessing. This wasn't just about survival anymore—it was about unlocking the past, about reclaiming something that had been lost for so long.

Mikkel pulled out a small battery from his bag, a piece of equipment he had carried with him for years, waiting for the moment when it would be needed. He attached it to the end of the panel, securing it in place with practiced ease.

For a moment, there was nothing. The room remained dark and still, the shadows clinging to every surface.

Then, all at once, the desk came to life.

The entire room lit up with a soft, ethereal glow, the panels illuminating the space with a pale blue light. It was as if the ship itself had awoken from a long slumber, its systems breathing again after years of silence. Symbols and codes began to flash across the screen, faint at first, but growing clearer with each passing second.

Arne gasped, his eyes wide with disbelief. Bjorn stepped back, his heart racing in his chest, the glow of the panels reflecting in his eyes. Even Mikkel seemed momentarily stunned by the power of what they had just unleashed.

And there, at the center of it all, written in clear, unmistakable letters across the screen, were the words that filled them with hope:

Navigation Center.

The room was silent, but the air was electric, charged with the weight of the discovery. This was it. This was what they had come for. The heart of Altera, beating once more.

Mikkel slowly stood up, his face bathed in the soft blue light. "We did it," he whispered, his voice trembling with awe. "We've unlocked the bridge."

The three men stood there, surrounded by the glow of the navigation center, their minds racing with the possibilities of what lay ahead. There was still so much they didn't know, still so much danger in the depths of the ship. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, there was hope.