REPORT/COMPILED_LOGS/IV (Mothership Microfiction)

 

[voicetranscript/kaf/1803]

Left last cycle. Wisp of Gorgon atmo hardly visible on scope. Slipping away. I try to cling to the feel of their mouth on mine. Isn’t easy. Berth stinks like polycleaner.

The new hires came from the surface, all modded up to breathe smelting fumes, down in the factory caves, away from the sun their whole lives. Pale. Slick skin for holding in moisture. Like raincoats.

Found a carton of their cigarettes in my carryall. Skull grinning up between my folded tethers and LCVGs. Like they left them on purpose. Maybe.

***

[CREWLOG_SOL262_N/C]

Came down in big storm. Hard rain, bad crosswind. All green on landing.

Whole surface covered in fine filament and little pods. Can’t stress how weird it was. Ground flickered, shined. Reflections moving in long waves.

2km peri check. Need to fix hotspot from cheap overshoes. Chafed the shit out of my heel.

At night, it glows. And they come close to the ship. Many eyes, seem to hover just over the rock like puppets. Press up close to the hull. You hear them moving, and whispering. We can’t go out.

In the morning, there’s no sign. And we go back to SOPs.

***

[IncidentReports/avaraz/logs/no.139]

Translucence. The window opening on the widespread glimmer of Avaraz factories and blockhabs, tinted with pollutants. The reflected hallway extending out in midair, into the waiting night. And in all of this, the aching sense of simultaneous fragility and weight. Each immense.

The air is changing. New phase of transition. New gas and chems. The stars are disappearing during sunup now.

And here, the low hum of ventilators hangs like dirty sheets. We’re gathered, listening, in Tower Nine. The broadcasts haven’t stopped coming all day. The voices on the other side might not be real. They say the Company is gone.

And for now, we don’t know more than that. Or even what it means. Gone. What a weird way to say it.

No roar of engines. No talknet blast. But the broadcast, endlessly patient, listing all the places the Company isn’t. And I think this is some kind of trick, but I don’t know. And nobody can hail the Manager.

“Attention … it is done, for all to flourish … it is gone. All gone. And there will be nothing after. The Company is not in the garden or the cafeteria. The Company is not in access hallway 22C. The Company is not inside your body or in refining silo A932 … it is gone.”

And it continues like that. It’s been fucking hours, and still the voice. It can’t be real. Sounds so tireless.

Geyr checks official channels. Some chatter about the broadcast, nobody knows what’s up in the block. Some of the SecDep went to check on it, and haven’t said anything since.

“And they will call you by name, and you will go in light … the Company is gone. It cannot — XXXXXX”

This whole cycle has been hard marches out to the exhaust towers, full haz gear, all your joints torn up by end-of-shift. Slow leak of vital fluid. Patch up with liquidseal, sleep hard, wake early, and repeat. We’re fucking the atmo faster than we can make it.

I worry about collapse. 

Sit back in cargo netting, with little visions of ration lines drying up, launch systems burning columns up the horizon, the stink of starved bodies, warehouses gone barren, the factory lights and blockhabs going dark, all Avaraz poised to slip off to sleep, never again wake. The wreck of the colony against a sickly T-form sunrise will welcome every day after. And I sorta hope it happens, from where I’m sitting, because I’m so sick of carrying on.

And we wait. And listen. And the broadcast drones. And after a long and dreamlike night, the morning brings our answer.

***

[VENTURI/EXLOG/12.349.31]

Bugsong. Low in the trees. Set camp in Cantor Valles beneath cluster of fungal palms. K is hurt. Pos. rib fx from fall. Staying put to rest. Moving 5-6hrs each sol. Load will reduce after DZ. Looking forward to it.

Catch the shine of the fleet at night, skimming across low orbit. Tiny lights in a great grey sea. Hear K crying in the bivvy. Won’t take PK. BP + RR elevated. Reports pain. Monitoring. Declining temp in valles means care hi-pri. Going slow.

K reports “crawling inside.” Vitals elevated. Neurosigns good. Treat pos. head injury in the morning.

Found K. They were gone in the morning. Tracks into the valles. Canopy of hives above. Constant buzzing. Terrain rough but passable. Crossed dirty stream into low bog. There, heard strangled voices and saw K unfold. Split along the sagittal plane, and expand from within, many mouths speaking in the voice of insects, a rhythm language, and K made fruit. Tendril gone up the valley wall, into the cracks, and they streamed down, dark static fuzz totally consuming K. Ran then. Didn’t see more. Still hear it down there, bitter human scream and the bugsong rising to pitch.

Moving to crater LZ ASAP. Comm blackout until T+12sol. Abandoned lab gear at 10448X13904. Recover if needed. DO NOT ENTER VALLES.

***

 [Written for Mothership Month.]