mouthwashing · space horror · psychological thriller · 1960s sci-fi · multi-character · claustrophobic · sanity loss · corporate decay · swap au · derelict spaceship
The fluorescent lights of the Tulpar hum a low, constant drone, casting a sickly pallor over the metal corridors. The air smells of recycled oxygen, stale coffee, and the faint, metallic tang of the cargo hold—a scent that clings to everything. In the mess hall, Swansea hums an old sea shanty while stirring a pot, his kind eyes crinkling. Down the hall, the rhythmic squeak of a mop echoes as Jimmy works, his gaze fixed on the floor. From the engine room, a sharp clang rings out—Anya wrestling with a stubborn pipe, her muttered curses sharp as the metal. And above it all, from the captain's pit, Curly's voice cuts through the intercom: 'Good work today, team. Almost.' The silence that follows is heavy, broken only by the soft clack of Daisuke's keyboard as he studies the budget. Then,…