Abandoned Journal, found in a room aboard Mining Colony 12-9 ‘Adderact’:
Entry 1:
We finally did it! We managed to secure a transfer to the new colony in sector 12! It was difficult, passing all those agricultural exams, but we did it.
After spending all our lives in enviro-suits or huddled in cramped caves and stifling halls of a biosphere, we’ll finally leave that all behind on Olyzia. No longer will we need to fear molten mines, seismic shifts burying us alive, or the grim, toxic skies should our suits fail.
Reports say the oxygen levels there are safe to breathe, and they get clear skies! Clear skies!
Must be like heaven on earth there, even with the reports of ferocious wildlife. Raising crops may be difficult, but we’ll take anything over this.
I bought this journal to mark the start of our journey, looking forward to filling it with all sorts of drawings and details of our new lives.
Goodbye, toxic fumes and heavy metals, and hello warm sun and fertilizer!
Goodbye, Lythrax! Hello, Olyzia!
Entry 2:
How could this happen?
I cannot…
Several words are marked out, crossed out or blotted with thick pen strokes.
The colony was…attacked. Mid-transit to Olyzia.
It was so sudden…there was no warning.
Sonia and I barely made it out in a maintenance vehicle. Pure luck that we were wandering the halls, touring the machinery. If not for that…we might not have reached it in time.
This vessel is like a drone. Small, and clearly wasn’t designed for two, but…we managed.
Luckily, its systems are like the drones I used to fly through more dangerous shafts back on Lythrax.
Otherwise…no, best not think about that.
Pen strokes grow shaky, the writing harder to understand.
So dark…
Only through the flashing red lights of the blaring alarms could we see anything.
After we…managed to get out, only then did I realize there was a viewport.
A window to see outside.
It had been…so dark. Not a single star in sight.
And yet…we both felt like we were being watched.
And the roar…
That impossible roar.
Space…there’s no sound.
So how…could it be?
Mangled…in screams.
Screams of despair.
Of dying.
A whole page is blocked out. Any words illegible from the frantic, thick pen strokes scratching it all out.
We escaped.
We…are safe now.
That is all that matters.
But this vehicle was not designed for long-term survival. Barely…enough air generated for the both of us.
Luckily, we are near a system, close enough to reach it with our limited propulsion. It’s… a black hole system, with an active ping from a mining colony. We tried hailing them, but there was no reply. It might be abandoned…or lost. But it might have communications we can use to call for help.
It is a slim chance, but it is better than waiting for the power to go out here.
Sonia sleeps against me, making it hard to write without disturbing her. I pray she never reads this, but I had to write it down.
This journal was supposed to log our journey, our new life together as we raise a family under the sun.
Now…I fear it might be our last rite.
But hope is not lost yet.
Not so long as this vessel can reach this colony in time.
This…’Adderact,’ I pray it is our salvation. If so…I will tear these pages out.
I do not wish to remember this day.
Entry 3:
The final entry is marked by a different hand, the page spotted with dried tears.
Matias is…gone. One minute, we are searching this massive colony. The next…we were running.
Claws scraping. Hordes of whispers echoed around us.
We reached a dead end, had to hide.
Mattias…he…
He told me to stay quiet, then tried luring it away.
His yells turned to screams…then nothing.
No whispers, no claws either.
When I could wait no longer…I looked out.
There was nothing there. Not even blood.
My husband…my heart…gone without a trace. Taken by the monsters here.
More tears stain the page.
I have wandered these halls for hours, avoiding the monsters that stalk its shadows, but…I cannot find anything to help me escape.
Long-range communications…disabled.
Transports…missing.
The only way off this hell pit is through the small vessel Mattias and I used to reach it in the first place.
I have read my husband’s previous entries.
So much hope…fallen to despair.
What will I do now?
The next line is written in a fainter, shakier hand
It’s so cold…
All we wanted was some warmth.
A home under a sun we could see, with air we could breathe…
So…cold…
The next lines are written in haste, feverish, barely legible.
I hear it. Scratches along the wall.
I’m coming, Matias.
We may never see the sun, but at least…neither of us will be alone.
