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Employee #0009, better known as Mission Control, had always taken pride in his role at Deep Rock Galactic Corporation. As the voice in the ear of every team that ventured into the dangerous mines of Hoxxes IV, he felt responsible for their safety and success.
But all that changed on the day of the Hazard Level 3 Refinery mission assigned to Team 17. As the Mission Control sat at his station, monitoring the progress of Team 17's Hazard Level 3 Refinery mission, he was suddenly jolted out of his focused state.
Over the radio, he heard the muffled but exuberant cries of "WE'RE RICH! WE'RE RICH! WE'RE RICH!" coming from the team. Mission Control couldn't help but roll his eyes at their unprofessional behavior. It was then followed by even more irritating cries of "MUSHROOM! MUSHROOM! MUSHROOM!", which made him grind his teeth in frustration.
"Team 17, this is Mission Control. Focus on the mission and report your progress. That kind of behavior is not tolerated in these missions," he spoke firmly into the radio.
There was a brief silence before the response came.
"Sorry, Mission Control. We got a bit carried away," one of the team members said, trying to sound contrite.
Mission Control took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. He knew that the work in Hoxxes IV was stressful and dangerous, and it was easy for the miners to get caught up in the excitement of a successful extraction. But he couldn't let them get too carried away and put their lives at risk. He had to keep them focused and on track, no matter how tempting it was to let loose and celebrate.
And so, Mission Control continued to monitor their progress, trying to ignore their occasional exclamations of excitement and focusing on keeping them safe. It was a difficult job, but he was determined to do whatever it takes to keep his miners alive and bring them home.
He had monitored their progress, guiding them through the caves and directing them as they worked to extract Morkite. But as they encountered a swarm of Glyphids, something went wrong. The scanners failed to detect the incoming danger, and before he knew it, he was receiving reports of casualties.
The only survivor of the team was the Engineer, Fergus, and he was a shell of his former self. Traumatized by the events, he requested retirement from the program, leaving Mission Control with a heavy heart.
He played the recordings of that fateful mission over and over in his mind, searching for any clues that could have prevented the tragedy. But he was haunted by the knowledge that he had failed the members of Team 17. He should have seen the danger coming, he should have been able to guide them to safety.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, but the pain of that mission never faded. Mission Control threw himself into his work, determined to make sure that no other team would suffer the same fate as Team 17. He pushed for deeper scans, and demanded that the company invest in better technology to protect its employees.
And yet, the memory of that mission stayed with him, a constant reminder of the lives that were lost and the burden he carried. He took solace in the knowledge that Team 17 would always be remembered, honored in the Memorial Hall for their bravery and sacrifice.
But for Mission Control, there would always be a sense of emptiness, a feeling of regret that he would carry with him until the end of his days. The lament of Mission Control was not just a reminder of the tragedy of Team 17, but a warning to all who followed in their footsteps: the dangers of Hoxxes IV were real, and no one was immune from its dangers.
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