Pariahs in Space: Part III


We’re through. Maxon put us on rationing and we’re still five weeks out from the Omicron system. I don’t know how they expect us to make it that long with only two weeks of food and water left. And that’s with the rations in place.

He’s taking it well, though. Just by looking at him, you’d never know that this was the end of our ship. He keeps positive. Maintains order. No wonder they made him captain. If we all had as much composure as him, we’d last a hell of a lot longer than two weeks. He’s even given up two of his rations per day; he’s only taking dinner. He’s not even eating in his quarters. He sits in the mess with the crew just to feign some sort of normalcy. He’s a good man. It’s a pity we’re all going to die out here.



We’re at a dead stop now. We don’t even have any momentum left over from our initial thrusters. I don’t know how it happened, but we’re completely stopped in the middle of uncharted space.

The temperature is fluctuating every ten minutes. The crew is getting restless. We can’t sleep. We hardly eat or drink. Fights are breaking out here and there, but nothing too bad. Yet.






After the head of security killed Maxon, the majority of the the crew joined with him. Those of us who didn’t locked ourselves below deck trying to hide. We’re not fighters; we’re scientists. This isn’t how it was supposed to happen.

They’ve got the food up top. I wonder how long we’ll last.



There was a large slam about three hours ago followed by yelling. The gunshots have been happening on and off since then. Someone needs to go up and see what’s happening but we’re all too afraid.


Tiffany finally got the courage to head above deck to see what was going on, but she said she didn’t see a thing. No one was there. No signs of a fight. Nothing. Frank, Tiffany, and myself are getting ready to head up there to see what happened.


It’s all so surreal. There’s no signs of anything. They must’ve shot off 100 shells and there’s no casings on the ground anywhere. No blood spatters on the wall. Tiffany is checking the recording feeds from the ship’s video log now.



When we checked the logs, we saw that a ship had docked with the airlock port-side. After that, there’s no records of anything that happened until we came back above deck. Whoever it was, they’re not here now.

We’re trying to get the engines running again, but the cooling coils are still offline. It’s actually getting warmer. We’re all stripped down trying not to sweat out what little water we have left in our bodies. At least we’ve got another couple weeks of rations now that 2/3rds of the crew is gone.


A ship docked port-side again about 20 minutes ago. They still haven’t made their way onto the ship. I wonder what they’re waiting for.


They got into our computer systems. They’re cooking us. They’re cooking us in our own god damned ship. They must’ve been following us outside of sensor range this entire time and disrupting our systems. The temperature’s been climbing up about a degree ever five minutes since they docked. We’re up to 45 C. We can’t take much more.


63 C now. Jst uellng. ylling ans dcreming  so hto. so hot

tel miy wife i lve her.

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