We Can't Go Back into Space Until Logan Masterson Dies. That’s pretty much the long and short of it. Personally, I think that this whole thing will be the end of manned spaceflight. It was already dying, and now this? Talk about a PR-nightmare.
Plus, morally, the murders were pretty bad too.
Unsurprisingly, it began with lust. Masterson was aboard the ISS with Mizuki Katayama, a brilliant Japanese mission-specialist. He loved her, or more accurately he wanted her, and she’d politely turned him down.
The same scenario happens on Earth every day. The only thing remarkable about this murder was its location.
If you admit to watching the Broadcasts, then you know how he killed her and what he did to her afterward. But I’d rather not get into that.
After killing Katayama, Masterson was alone on the ISS with Anton Vitaly. Saying the cosmonaut was in the wrong place at the wrong time would be an understatement. Masterson made short work of Vitaly as well.
But again, I’d rather not go into details.
You have to remember that, at this point, nobody on Earth was clued in. All we saw was that the cameras on the station had stopped transmitting, and that the personnel weren’t responding.
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It’s during this period when Masterson must have fully embraced his psychosis. He blacked out the station’s windows. He diligently severed all outside controls. Then he waited.
These first days and weeks were panicky for NASA, JAXA, and Roscosmos. Eventually a mission was sent up to investigate the ISS. The next three Astronauts and Cosmonauts in the queue for residence were sent up with tools and supplies.
Masterson, of course, knew they were coming. He listened to Earth communications, and still had access to the external cameras. It was a relatively simple matter to sabotage the airlock and depressurize one of the station’s segments.
From what little we know, it’s assumed that all three died instantly. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
It was at this point that the Broadcasts began.
Attempts to stop his outgoing messages were pathetically ineffective. All Masterson had to do was slap an old-fashioned broadcast antenna on ISS and—presto! The whole world was his audience.
Nobody is supposed to watch, but I’d bet that everybody has at least once. The Broadcasts were sickening and fascinating at the same time. A psychotic murderer, completely out of reach of civilization—with a broadcast antenna.
Most were horrified. Countries banned viewing the broadcasts. But some segments of the internet loved it.
Everyone pretends they don’t watch, but all of Masterson’s performances are easily accessible online.
Months passed and people began to wonder how he was still alive. Then someone pointed out that Masterson has a water-recycler and about five corpses-worth of meat.
Still, he can’t last forever. So we’re waiting him out. A few politicians and world-leaders have threatened to launch missiles at the ISS. But that’s just bluster.
So, just go to sleep. Don’t even think about the fact that there’s a psychotic killer out there, passing overhead every 92 minutes.