Member-only story
S.C. NOSTRADAMUS
CRUISER CLASS
3245 SOULS ABOARD
JOURNAL 235
The sound of this ship makes me feel insane sometimes. The echo of silence. It was built for tens of thousands, but a comparatively paltry few remain after our crew of scientists unlocked the horrible secret on Iorus and the mutinies began.
I became the leader of this doomed vessel after the captain and her underlings were assassinated during a ration break. Magar. That bastard Magar managed to sneak a powerful explosive into a bag of humble bread. The concussion breached the hull…and well, all the leadership went with it. The war on the ship didn’t feel real until that day. The people looked to me afterwards, a lowly navigation tech, to take up arms and defend the ship from the madness that was spreading. We’ve managed to beat back the bastards for now, but the wars that waged in the engineering deck knocked out most of our navigation controls. For months we floated in this space, this nothingness. No north, no south, no direction at all but forward. In our space all that exists is forward. We have to get back home. We have to warn the human race of what we have found out here.
The only clue that we are on the right track back to earth is a series of 4000 year old broadcasts…
