The numbers on the alarm clock flicked and the bleating began. A weary crewmember mumbled and turned in his cot. The bleating continued until a hand finally landed on the clock and fumbled around for the off button.
The crewmember sat up and rubbed his eyes. Another day had begun, though at least no one had been killed in the night.
Andres put on his work clothes grabbed his tool bag. He felt sleepier than he normally did in the morning. He yawned and set off to his post in the engine room.
He made his way down the corridors. The light was steady and unwavering, and all he could hear was the sound of his own footfalls.
Finally he arrived at the engine room. He opened the door and turned to set his tools down. The engine room was one of the biggest spaces on the ship, because it contained the huge amounts of machinery that powered The Prometheus through the void. A lot of the crew worked at maintaining the engine and accompanying equipment.
But no one else was in the room now. Andres looked around again. The engine room was deserted.
But then he saw somebody; a lone figure standing still across the room.
After their eyes met, the figure spoke, “It is fitting your downfall should be brought about in this place, this den of evil. But now you shall be put right!”
Andres saw
another figure emerge and approach him from another part of the engine room, and he had turned to run before the speaker had finished his first sentence. Leaving his tools, he turned to run back through the door he had entered in. But as soon as he made it through the doorway,
shadows closed in and attacked him, swinging metal pipes and tools. Andres’ frantic yells for help were quickly cut short.
The bloody deed done, all the figures made their way out of the area.
Several hours later, back in the sleeping area, the rest of the crew on Andres’ shift woke up to their alarm clocks.
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