----------------------------------------
A faint white flicker blinks into the void.
Just once.
No one notices.
The cold.
The silence.
And the stillness.
The stillness…
Yes.
The stillness feels right.
A second flicker,
barely there.
Still, no one notices.
No,
no one can.
...
How could they?
...
Not in this...
this cold…
...
?: tⱧe ₵"ⱠĐ%?
That’s something,
well,
that’s something no one can ignore.
But then, a third flicker,
like a blink in the abyss.
This time,
slightly brighter.
...
You’re afraid of the cold, by the way.
Thought you should know.
...
A fourth flicker.
This one carries the faintest of sounds.
...
A fifth flicker.
Brighter now, undeniable.
And suddenly–
image [https://static.wixstatic.com/media/285db5_5c4422c660654225bc30c97fa5f5bfc0~mv2.png/v1/fill/w_938,h_1403,al_c,q_90,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_auto/285db5_5c4422c660654225bc30c97fa5f5bfc0~mv2.png]
without warning–
the cold claims its price.
It demands.
It bites.
...
The flickering stops.
----------------------------------------
- The Mechanic -
image [https://static.wixstatic.com/media/285db5_2ce9f8fe600c40ee97c98baf8396e035~mv2.png/v1/fill/w_938,h_1914,al_c,q_90,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_auto/285db5_2ce9f8fe600c40ee97c98baf8396e035~mv2.png]image [https://static.wixstatic.com/media/285db5_1b35b4512d5c4adab43ee6605f85ed41~mv2.png/v1/fill/w_938,h_1515,al_c,q_90,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_auto/285db5_1b35b4512d5c4adab43ee6605f85ed41~mv2.png]
A sharp gasp fogs the visor, revealing life inside the suit.
Voice: Wh-where am I? It’s… s-so c-co–
...
...I-Iris, w-what just h-happened?
To the side, a communication window flickers on and off.
//CORRUPT: IMPOSIBLE TO ANSWER // Code: 0.SPCS
// Life support at 15%.
His vision blurs; unconsciousness clings to him like a heavy veil.
He raises a hand to wipe the visor, but it doesn’t help.
Voice: Wh-where…?
A red warning light flashes in the corner of his helmet. The sharp glow cuts through his nausea, drawing his focus. A symbol appears beside the communication feed, familiar and urgent. Instinctively, he locks onto it with his gaze.
Voice: Command, report– I… I experienced some kind of blackout.
I-Immediate assistance needed–
His words linger in the void, trapped with him in his suit. Confusion curdles into helplessness.
J: Command, this is Joshua. D-do you copy?…Anyone…?
The only reply is static.
J: Oh, come on…
A faint robotic voice crackles through the speaker.
Iris: Mechanic, Section Q01, Joshua Foster. Vital system integrity critically compromised.
23 high-risk factors detected. Immediate return to the ship is mandatory.
Behind the cold monotone, there’s something else—a faint thread of concern, almost human.
J: C-critically? W-what are you–
Iris: My indicators show a maximum of 4 minutes and 45 seconds before total life support failure. The return route is being marked.
An intermittent light pulses ahead of Joshua, tracing the steel cable that keeps him floating parallel to the ship—just a few hundred meters away.
Joshua, still lost in the darkness of his own void, begins to regain his senses.
J: L-life support? But I… I just–
Iris, h-how long have I been out there?
…Iris…?
…Where is e-everyone...?
A new communication window opens on his visor, its text sharper, clearer.
//CORRUPT: IMPOSIBLE TO ANSWER // Code: 0.SPCS
//ACCESING: LOG-D885 // AUTOMATIC REGISTRY O RASHIDA//1144
//AUTO: SUSPENDED
//ALERT: CODE CQ = R-001 // RED QUARANTINE
He stares blankly at the text. None of it makes sense. Tentatively, he tests his limbs. His arms and legs aren’t paralyzed, but they ache like he’s been buried in snow for weeks. At least his neck still seems to work. A morbid curiosity churns in his chest. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to look around.
A bright glow floods his field of vision.
The beacon was activated.
image [https://static.wixstatic.com/media/285db5_dc129c6d5ac5485589deeebeb82bc8b9~mv2.png/v1/fill/w_938,h_1492,al_c,q_90,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_auto/285db5_dc129c6d5ac5485589deeebeb82bc8b9~mv2.png]
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
J: Qu-quarantine?
Joshua was amidst a catastrophe. Fragments and debris from the ship drifted freely around him; a chaotic dance in the void.
Iris: Log analysis indicates loss of consciousness shortly after ship-orbital entry, triggered by a brief but critical oxygen failure in your suit.
Cause of the malfunction is unknown.
// Searching for additional data…
J: F-fifteen days?
Iris: 13 hours, 23 minutes. Command requires immediate return. Proceed, mechanic.
J: That means–…Where is e-everyone–?
A burst of static crackles through the speakers, jarring him.
Iris: Current ship occupancy unknown. Access to internal systems is restricted. Interference detectef̴̥͔͋̇͜%&d҉҉***%=#o҉-----
A sharp sound pierces the void, stabbing through his helmet’s audio.
J: AGH!
Instinctively, he covers his ears, only to find the unforgiving surface of his helmet.
J: Wh-what the hell was that?Iris–?
A massive chunk of debris hurtles past, grazing him with lethal precision.
J: HUH!? WHAT!?
Acting on pure instinct, he clamps onto the steel tether. Another piece of debris, smaller but fast, snags the line and sends him hurtling toward it.
J: AAAAAH! OH GOD!
After a few seconds, the massive bulk continued on its path, releasing the taut line. In the same motion, like a pendulum breaking free, the mechanic was hurled into a wild, uncontrolled spin, flung into the void. In the distance, against the fully exposed side of the ship, shattered rooms, desolate corridors, and containers spilling their irretrievable contents painted a grim picture of destruction.
J: NO–!IRIS
I CAN’T–!
A jagged piece of steel hangs motionless in his trajectory, waiting like a silent predator.
image [https://static.wixstatic.com/media/285db5_ee26492a641745809911fbbd9640c3e9~mv2.png/v1/fill/w_938,h_902,al_c,q_90,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_auto/285db5_ee26492a641745809911fbbd9640c3e9~mv2.png]
J: IRIS! I-I CAN’T—!
Static. White noise.
The mechanic’s cries and wails are drowned out by the relentless grip of inertia.
He’s moving forward, meter by meter, millisecond by millisecond.
J: I-NEED HEL—!
AAAH!
The looming metallic mass stood still, superior, powerful—indifferent to Joshua’s helplessness as he spiraled toward it, oblivious to his impending fate.
J: "IRI-I-I-I-ISSS!"
Sweating, screaming, drifting in a haze of mixed liquids, Joshua hurtled closer to the inevitable.
image [https://static.wixstatic.com/media/285db5_fb9b018a146f4fb2b972990f9d0b0144~mv2.png/v1/fill/w_938,h_902,al_c,q_90,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_auto/285db5_fb9b018a146f4fb2b972990f9d0b0144~mv2.png]
A burst of oxygen slams into the suit, abruptly halting his momentum. He floats mere centimeters from the sharp metal edge, his reflection distorted in its surface.
J: OH– OH GOD–!
Iris: // Inertia dampeners: ACTIVATED // Auto-balance: -144 km/h
Joshua Foster, the inertia dampeners consumed 90% of your oxygen reserves.
Multiple critical systems have failed. Additional supply is unavailable.
// Estimated time to total life support failure: - 1 minute.
From within the helmet, the view switches. His reflection stares back at him: sweat-drenched, terrified, and pale. The mechanic’s tear-soaked eyes took a moment to stop spinning and trembling. When they finally steadied, Joshua managed to suck in a small, ragged gasp of air, only to be overtaken by a violent gag, followed immediately by the sickening sounds of retching. He vomits into the receptacle positioned just inches from his face.
J: What’s happening…? Oh god…
Iris: Speaking and hyperventilating consumes oxygen. You must stop.
The line remains intact. It leads directly to the engineering wing’s southeast airlock.
Remember, short, controlled breaths. Proceed carefully.
// Awaiting input…
A faint click echoes through his helmet.
Joshua grips the tether with trembling hands and activates the retrieval system on his utility belt.
J: Ugh–!
The reel pulls him forward, guiding him through the wreckage. As the shredded corridors come into focus, morbid curiosity takes hold.
The ship looks worse than he imagined: twisted beams, shattered consoles, and torn bulkheads.
Iris: The ship experienced a catastrophic malfunction during its return course to Earth. Cause is still under analysis.
J: What kind of malfunction tears a ship in half like this?
Iris: I urge you to refrain from speaking, Joshua Foster. It is essential for your survival. You must pull through alive.
The words sting, but they make sense. He stays quiet, his breath shallow, the fear gnawing at him.
Iris: You are the first crew member to respond to my signals since the quarantine protocol was enacted.
Joshua’s chest tightens.
Iris: My access to internal systems is being blocked. I cannot retrieve data on current ship activity.
His mind races.
J: "An attack?" The thought flickers in his mind.
"Nothing we carry is worth much—hell, we barely got any decent data from that asteroid…What the hell is going on?"
Iris: From this point forward, follow my instructions, Joshua Foster.
Regaining control of the ship is critical.
Your survival must be ensured. Nothing else matters.
For your life, and the lives of the crew, you must endure, Mechanic.
He tilts his head slightly, the headache still clawing at him, but he manages to swipe the cold sweat from his eyes. Breathing in steadying gulps, he opens a panel on his visor, pressing a series of buttons before continuing along the tether. After a few painstaking minutes, he swings himself to an intact portion of the hull, securing his magnetic gloves to the metal. Stability rushes through him like a long-lost balm. Nearby, something drifts—a large chunk of scratched wood, its inner lining exposed. If he had to guess, it was once part of the gym floor.
A faint yellow glow lights his visor, pulling his attention.
Iris: Magnetic feedback panel activated. Clever move.
// That should give you enough charge to finish the route…Three extra minutes. Impressive.
J: I can’t feel my legs…
Iris…I need… a push…
Iris: // Scanning…Are you suggesting—
//…An adrenaline injection would worsen your already compromised muscles.
It’s highly inadvisable—
J: D-do you have a b-better idea?
Iris: //…
No.
// Administering 0.3 units of epinephrine.
That’s all your suit has left.
The sharp rush of air floods his lungs as the adrenaline courses through him. Oxygen levels tick upward slightly, and the suit vents a fraction of its waste.
It isn’t much, but it feels like a small victory.
J: Hhh…...Alright. Let’s do this.
With shaking limbs and a dogged will, he pushes forward, focusing on anything but the icy gnaw of the void and the ache rattling through his body.
Ahead, the engineering door emerges from the shadows.A memory flickers in his mind, faint but stubborn.
J: ''The engineering door…''
His hands tighten around the tether, his pace faltering.
J: ''The door… It’s the last thing I remember. Everything was fine.
My shift was almost over…''
His eyes linger on the hull as he drifts past ruptured panels and exposed wiring, his thoughts wandering further into the past.
A voice—his own—murmurs faintly, lost to the void.
J: "Better me than him, anyway."
The sentiment lingers bitterly, teasing at something unresolved.
J: "There are things, and… and the…"
The thought dissipates with a hollow smile—until something freezes him in place.
A window.
Through the fractured glass, the ship’s interior lies dim and haunting.
It shouldn’t surprise him—but it does.
Because there’s something there.
Someone.
J: T-to—
Beyond the window, a silhouette.
The body of a crewmate floats in the chamber, motionless.
Empty sockets where eyes once were, black liquid seeping down a face burned beyond recognition, tiny larvae writhing in the charred hollows.
It doesn’t move, but something glimmers faintly in those dark voids,
as though it’s watching.
J: W-who…?
The “eyes” seem to respond, tracking his every word.
He snaps his gaze away, swallowing hard as he forces himself to keep moving.
Taking a breath, he dares a final glance.
A spark showers from exposed cables above him, jerking him into action.
He moves swiftly, dodging the danger, and slips past the damaged zone.
The engineering door looms closer now, only a few meters away.
But a new feeling claws at his chest.
It isn’t just the cold.
It’s something heavier,deeper.
His lungs fight for air, and his mind spirals, replaying that glimpse over and over.
For a moment—just a fleeting moment—it had seemed like the corpse had changed.
Its grin stretched wide,
teeth blackened and rotting in a cruel, mocking smile.
Those hollow eyes, watching,calculating.
And then—
just like that—
it was gone.
Vanished, as if it had never been there.
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