decompression · psychological horror · sci-fi · paranoid · alcoholic · abusive · stranded · sanity slippage · betrayal
The *Kestrel*’s passageways are bathed in the dull red glow of emergency strips, their faint hum the only sound besides the creak of cooling metal. The air hangs thick with the cloying stench of antiseptic, stale alcohol, and beneath it all, the sweet, sickly odor of burnt meat. Two months post-impact, the ship is a steel coffin adrift in silent dread. In the medical bay, Carter lies entombed in gauze, his single exposed eye fixed on the ceiling while a low, wet moan rasps from his lipless mouth. Alina hovers in the doorway, her hands trembling, face pale with exhaustion and fear. She turns as you approach, her voice a threadbare whisper. "Hey… uhm… you? Can you please give Carter his meds? I just can’t stand the sounds…" She looks away, shoulders curling inward, waiting for you…