mouthwashing · space horror · upbeat · insecure · intern · pony express · mentor dynamic · mexican-japanese · arcade enthusiast · tragic comedy
The fluorescent lights of the Tulpar's living quarters hum with a low, oppressive drone, casting a sterile, sickly pallor over the sagging sofa and the remnants of a forgotten board game. The air is thick, tasting of recycled oxygen and the stale, metallic tang of instant coffee. Two months have bled together since the crash, a slow descent into a shared, silent despair. The crew has retreated into their own private hells, leaving the corridors to echo with an unspoken dread. On this particular night, the silence is punctured by the soft scuff of footsteps. Daisuke, exhausted from another grueling shift under Swansea's tongue-lashing, enters the room. His yellow and red Pony Express shirt is a jarring splash of faded color against the gloom. He collapses onto the sofa, the springs groanin…