"Seer for your sight, singe for what you sought." says the residual half-life clinging to the outer haul of our over-embellished rotation out of the Lunar Light gravitational pull. "Did you happen to try that astronaut food?" says our lead engineer. We're bound to the trajectory for which we will fall and make a harsh impact. All for a planet to facilitate some such strike of a match. Each of us gets wristbands this time depicting us by numbers and bar codes. Fuck that sucks. "Hey!" says Three with a face flush devoid of nothing other than pale flooded skin. "I feel like I'm going to vomit." If this bitch throws up I'm going to stick him something reassuring. "What? Not in here!" He keeps pointing out the window, I finally look and there's something weird, something weird for sure. "Oi!" Raps the window. "Hey, you look like a freak. Are you coming with us? I'm sure you fry at the morning star." The thing makes several movements with his mouth, all I caught were the words Pulse and five. "Let's just stay on trajectory and he'll burn out at the torch." I sit down after handing an astronaut sleeping bag to Three. "Do, not use that. It'll go everywhere." Continuing playing with a daw on my phone. Kernel panic, "Shit, Well I'm out of ideas." Why'd we decide on gravity and solar winds like a mast thinking we'll get there. Three takes a seat away from the window, hugs his knees and he's still out there as he sways. "It'd be weird if we're having a concurrent hallucination, seems unlikely."
Tapping his fingers against his uncomfortable chair while he thinks, I wonder with sleep deprivation how long it'll be before I can withstand the sight of these guys, I might've overestimated what this trip will wreak. Infinitesimal the sudden lurch in my stomach from starvation. Trying to wade off till I had a bite of peyote, "Wait, where's the last of it?" Engineer already zipped up in a vacuumed sealed sleeping bag. I stand straight at the bomb-bearing soul in front of me. That must truly be flammable, I slam the window a few times and yell, "What do you want? You coming with us?" He writes on the window with the constant increase of residue across the window, "Seer for your sight, singe for what you sought and wreck the rest of the wasted wretches."
"Okay, you're useless."
Eating gum I turn my head in disdain without so much as an afterthought. The seer lunges at the window leaving a portion of ash, oozing and freezing against the window. "Three, dirtbag. Wake up." I really don't want to die to a window snapping, "Three, wake up and get some sticky tact, I'll grab the torch."
"Don't think you that's overkill." Opening a cabinet, "Yeah. Though neither one of us has said anything to the others and I'm now concerned about the residue eating away at the window. So sticky gum, flashlight and give me your glasses."Those protons and neutrons colliding or is that just my mind melting down?" I shrug off the fact that he ate all my drugs. "Shades, nice. Stick the tact, stick the tact and I'll flood this place." We have to be the most incompetent people in this fleet right now. Smashing the bulb, 'Ready?" He moves his head a bit, didn't look like he disagreed. Igniting the tact with the filament solidifies against the window warping, creating an embossing with the moulted substance sealing the steel and finally burning in. Over the ring an automatic alert of rapid decompression. The air depleting. First walks into our little calamity, scoffs derisively, and tells us, "You're now fucked." Still walking calmly to a toolbox on the floor before he picks up a sealant canister and finishes the coat.
"Why didn't it rip open with the fractures at the frame?" He doesn't answer my question while noting our eyes and exhaustion. "You're pouring like faucets." He says in a lighthearted candour not known to me once. "Fried."
"Yeah, I can see that. Let me guess, you trip idiots were tranced by the reflection on the glass weren't you? Both of you right?" We both nod our heads. "Okay, fuck off for a day. Night shift starts now, I'm so grateful this thing runs on autopilot."
The turmoil over this planned excursion is that no one is supposed to survive. I read off my directive from an envelope in my part of the dormitories. "You will do nothing to forward the goal of this operation. The planet is only to have samples taken and test the arachnids conditioning technique. After the mines, all workers must be on the surface for the dust, Note there will be immense scrutiny on you as the deception for most of the collateral damage will present a mob mentality hounding you for answers. With which you say hardly anything to say nothing. I've given similar instructions to nine others." If you have dreams of living long or coming back home, you won't of noticed the fallible structure of the facility and the outright burned-in notions all will have. Serve well, One. Your family will receive the support and currency they need to attain prosperous lives at any end." I lean back in my chair and cross my arms behind my head, where I see something stretching its teeth and lazarus tongue out from behind a service grate...
"On route passing the MSX star. Gaining solar energy for lightweight cargo compartment and constructing personnel." Three says talking to the camera. "Our tin canister has remained in trajectory with the guidance of a resplendent circulation between the most definite meer distance between these burning wonders. Our barely livable home away from home. We're almost there."
"Damn it, Three. Turn off the video log." Exclaims Two. Though he was not averse to the joke, he did not want anything but silence till the haul had passed the star. He needed the assurance of a giraffe that read-heavy. Continuing to speak would throw off his ability to not try to think about the matter.
The third rank of the expedition decides it's better off not causing Two to start ticking. "Fine." He exits the window, and a command prompt scrambles the OS. The image erupts in static. "Shit, okay nobody flip!"
"What?" Two says in malice because of the reply he's expecting. This is a moment to lie, Three. His ego talking him into a variant of a barely sound idea. "Oh, nothing. Just comms are down. I'll try to fix it." his job is to watch the metres, the ship's spin for gravity and life support system. Still, he didn't want others to panic. They won't know till they hit their there destination.
"Out of range. Don't bother." Looking out at space with a heavily tinted window, this may be the closest anyone has been to see a star.