The year is 2087. We have charted every meter of the surface, every star within reach. But for over a century, one frontier has defied us — the world directly beneath our feet.
Twenty-seven expeditions launched. Zero returned.
You pilot the twenty-eighth. Your destination is a single coordinate on the far side of the planet — your antipode — exactly 12,742 kilometres straight through the molten heart of the world.
Surface command does not expect you to make it.
They expect you to try anyway.