By: Leigh B. Evans
-Excerpt from Major Villè Damantis’ final transmission-
I feel I must at least leave something behind, so I’ll document what are my final moments. As of now I face a choice.
I entered the main area of the station moments ago, passing through the second hatch. The floor was stained with cold, coagulated blood—a significant amount of it. Thankfully, Genesis had thought ahead and equipped this floating death trap with artificial gravity enhancers. Otherwise, I would have been waltzing through the life liquid of my fellow inhabitants as if it were confetti.
As I beheld the gruesome scene, my mind immediately turned to my wife’s face back on Earth. Was she aware that something had gone terribly wrong? Perhaps Genesis was covering up more than just the cargo we received a few solar days ago. Who knows? Here I am, floating in what undoubtedly feels like my own exorbitantly priced coffin.
What was the plan, anyway? Transporting this monstrosity into space to observe its effects? Weren’t the ghastly experiments on Earth enough? These Sassaprenes were once commonplace back home, but life wasn’t always like this. Before the great infection, Earth had finally achieved a semblance of peace. Then, like many horrors, one man sought more power than he deserved, and everything went up in smoke. The bombs fell, and those of us fortunate enough found refuge in the vaults. Decades later, we emerged to a new normal.
And then the infection came. Lord Genesis, in all his glory, rebooted the space program, and now here I am. Due to some unknown motive, my crew lies slaughtered, and I find myself aboard a space station, adrift in the darkest recesses of a forsaken zone just beyond Omicron K-17.
I have two choices: confront my former friends, who have warped and twisted into those abominations, or step out into the abyss and let fate take its course.
As I don my helmet and approach the final hatch, the sounds grow louder—snarls, teeth clacking, and guttural noises that foretell my imminent doom.
If anyone finds this message, please relay my love to my wife. I am about to open the hatch and venture into the void.
May this be my last transmission. Hail Genesis.
Major Villè Damantis, signing off.
Leigh’s Chaos 