The Commander and the Ectomorph must transport to the surface to rescue the Introvert from an uncomfortable conversation.
Blind interstellar creatures the size of suns stumbled around the galaxy, occasionally grouping together to spawn.
Again the sanitation droids refused to follow the first officer–the devolution was humiliating.
The uniforms were a symbolic representation of a million years of evolutionary remorse. Also, a bit tight.
Ears twitching, the lieutenant informed them that the intergalactic carrier had been eaten.
The space station’s curved, pristine white and beige interior had long since succumbed to a dingy, yellowing patina. The piped in Disco music was now laughable and inappropriate.
The creatures’ trilling sound had evolved over millions of years to attract nearby spaceships, they were no exception.
A feather from some angelic monstrosity floated down a river of oil and bile.
The fire was a fracture, a break in matter. As it grew, they plotted their retreat.
Inside the Glitter Sea was a hungry thing. Each astronaut was sent out alone, and none came back.
That remark by the Captain revealed a deep misunderstanding about the dangers of the submerged city.
“To journey between the stars first we’ll need complete obedience. Second, fanatical sacrifices.”
The only thing preventing their escape was the empathic black ichor.
The theoretical vessel would move infinitely on a completely frictionless sea.
Their eyes met, and with a minimal, masculine nod they each twisted the grimy steel detonation plungers into position.