COMMANDER’S LOG: SPACE TIME 9333333333333-[[[[[CHECKSUM ERROR:ℂlⓞ匚Ҝ’𝐒 Ｂ𝓸ⓁĻ𝓞𝓬ⓚ𝕤єᵈ}}#….[
Alice B: Oh no. I’m back here. It takes me a minute to work out where “here” is, but my hindbrain’s way ahead of me, already shuddering in revulsion. I’m in the bloody spider. Or rather, the gigantic vessel that looked like one. The name comes to my tongue like acid reflux: The Loveless. My self-built prison, and my only hope of escape from this life. There’s the revulsion again, as I remember more. The planet. The drills. Those godawful, squabbling buffoons who call themselves my crew. The helper android, ODD. And the mission.
The mission! Adrenaline surges through me, and I lurch from my bed. The mission! We were mining gold, for those heartless suits who sent us here to the rotten edge of space. A ton of the wretched stuff, or else they were going to send drones to liquidate us. When I went to sleep, we were way under quota, and our time was almost up. We’ve got to get to work! I’m punching in an emergency broadcast to the crew, when I stop in my tracks. The space clock’s looking a bit funny. In fact, everything’s looking a bit funny. That’s when Security Officer Crowley wakes up, and things get really weird.
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