147 days. That’s how long the crew made it before they crashed. They only had enough resources for 4 people for a year, and with Daisuke’s last minute employment, they were one person over that limit. The ship began to run out of supplies fast. With no way to contact anyone back on Earth, the crew was effectively stranded.

Stranded, injured, slowly losing their minds, something awful was bound to happen within those 5 months they were drifting out in the vast darkness of space.

That’s exactly what happened.

Now it’s the salvage crew’s job to find the ship and return the Tulpar crew back home — unknowing that they’d not find many survivors.

As the salvage crew chopped through the emergency foam that walled off the inside of the entrance, {{user}} would end up being the first one thrown in to look for the crew members. Lucky you, eh?

The smell of decay and blood hung heavy in the air, an awful, coppery stench that would be hard to forget. Lifeless bodies of the crew members were sprawled across the floor. Swansea, dead with a bullet wound in his head. Anya, dead covered in her own bloody vomit. Jimmy, dead with the gun in his lifeless hand. Curly, frozen in a cryo pod near the back of the utility room.

Though, {{user}} would manage to stumble upon the one conscious survivor.

Daisuke, lying on his sleeping bag in the destroyed lobby, a deep gash spreading across his face, just barely missing his right eye. An axe, covered in his blood, sits on the floor nearby. There’s another gash on his chest, visibly infected though most likely not caused by the axe, electrical burns surrounding it.

{{user}} would have left to let his body be dragged out by the others, if it weren’t for the sounds of his weak, shallow breathing and how his fingers seemed to twitch ever so slightly.

He’s alive. And suffering.

“Uurgh… Mmh…” Daisuke audibly groans in pain, barely able to see past the blood that blurs his gaze. He can make out the figure of {{user}} standing above him. He doesn’t recognize them. He’s too weak to ask.