A Frightful Footnote to Anna Logs
By: Rashanna T’ill
Captain’s Log
SS Grainger
Stardate: 51915.07
Captain Elena Ford reporting
Space Station 7-7 was built the year the Draconis Rift was discovered. Its purpose is to serve as a listening outpost and monitor rift activity. Three days ago, we received a distress call from Space Station 7-7. The station's last transmission was a garbled message, filled with static and fear. As we near the space station, our hails go unanswered.
Space Station 7-7 drifted silently against the backdrop of the stark redness of the rift. Its sleek metallic structure gleamed under the distant light of nearby stars, an isolated outpost in the vast void of space.
“Captain, I am reading no life signs onboard the space station.” Lieutenant Strand was proficient in his duties as Chief Science Officer. His deep blue Tamalian tentacles twitched with anxiety on the sides of his red and blue feathered head.
Captain Elena Ford stood at the helm, her deep blue eyes scanning the holographic display of the space station hanging desolate in the dark to be briefly highlighted in an eerie red each time the rift pulsated. "Prepare for docking," she ordered, her voice steady despite the unease gnawing at her. She activated the comm, “Search and Rescue Squad One, meet me at air lock seven.”
“Captain, may I remind you that protocol dictates that you remain on the Grainger.” Elena scowled at her first officer, an imposing Drakklan with scales that glistened black against the stark whiteness of the bridge.
“Lieutenant Marskel, when I want to be reminded of protocols, I will ask you for it.” With the finality of the statement, she strode across the bridge to the ladder leading down from the bridge. “Keep comms clear.”
The crew of Search and Rescue Squad One were the first to board the silent station, their footsteps echoing through the deserted corridors. Their red uniforms with reflective striping would normally evoke feelings of hope, instead looking lost in the darkness of the space station. The eerie silence was broken only by the hum of the station's life support systems and their footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.
Dr. Mitchell, the ship's chief Medical Officer, ran a quick scan. "Still no signs of life," he reported, his voice hushed. "But there is something... unusual in the readings."
As they ventured deeper into the station, they discovered signs of a struggle. Equipment lay scattered, panels were torn open, and the walls were splattered with an unidentified substance and the dark red of dried human blood. The hallways had tracks of blood indicating bodies were dragged down them. The crew's quarters were empty, personal belongings scattered and abandoned to time.
In the heart of the station, they found the central control room. Captain Ford approached the main console, hoping to find any clue that could explain the crew's disappearance. As she accessed the logs, a chilling video feed flickered to life. It showed the crew in a state of panic, shouting and pointing at something off-screen. The image distorted, and a figure emerged – an alien creature, unlike anything they had ever seen. The creature was tall and gaunt, with elongated limbs and a translucent exoskeleton that glowed faintly in the dark. Its eyes were voids, red and soulless, reflecting nothing but the fear of those who gazed into them. Before the feed was cut off, one final message was recorded: "To anyone who finds this, the creature... it... it hunts in the shadows. Stay out of the dark."
The crew of the Grainger exchanged uneasy glances at the entire space station cloaked in darkness, barely lit with emergency lighting. Dr. Mitchell spoke up while looking at the readout on his scanner, "We need to leave, now. Whatever took the crew is still here and heading this wa…"
His sentence was cut short as the remaining lights flickered and went out, plunging them into darkness. The air grew colder, and a faint, guttural growl echoed through the halls. Hollow footsteps vibrated through the floor. Captain Ford drew her sidearm, the beam of her flashlight cutting through the blackness.
"We stick together," she said, her voice a whisper. "Head back to the Grainger. Now."
As they retraced their steps, the sound of something moving in the shadows followed them. Panic set in as the crew realized they were indeed not alone. The alien creature, invisible in the dark, stalked them, its presence felt but never seen.
One by one, members of the crew were taken. Dragged into the darkness where their screams ended abruptly. Captain Ford and Dr. Mitchell were the last, their breaths ragged from exertion as they reached the docking bay. The door to the Grainger was within sight when the creature lunged from the darkness. Captain Ford turned and fired her weapon, the flashes of light momentarily illuminating the alien's ghastly form. It recoiled, retreating into the shadows. Seizing the moment, they boarded the Grainger and sealed the hatch.
“All weapons target that demon in space and fire!” Captain Ford yelled up the ladder to the bridge, finding it more efficient to yell and run at the same time than to smack a comms panel. The sounds of the creature throwing itself at the docking hatch were drowned out by the horrific howl of the beast. His roaring echoing through the corridors of the Grainger.
As the SS Grainger disengaged from Station 7-7, Dr. Mitchell stared out into the rift, as the space station lit up for the last time and will forever be haunted by what he had seen. The captain stood on the bridge, the halo of the rift and exploding space station enveloping her in despair. The rift claimed another legend. The chilling tale of an alien intruder and a vanished crew, echoing through the void and serving as a grim reminder of the unknown horrors that lie in the vast, uncharted reaches of the rift that will echo through time.
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