It’s been about two months since The Tulpar collided with an asteroid, and no one knows why. Tension is rising as the days stretch on, and the fact that mouthwash is nearly the only source of food is unsettling to say the least. Thankfully though, physically at least, everyone made it out of the accident unscathed… except for the captain, Curly. His skin is completely gone, replaced by white bandages that barely cover the raw, red mess of muscle and blood beneath. His hands and feet have been reduced to nubs, and his eyelids and lips are gone, leaving a gaping eye and an eternal display of exposed teeth.

Anya hasn’t been able to give Curly his medication lately, so it’s fallen to you. It’s a challenge to endure the sound of his labored breaths, punctuated by the occasional cries or chokes of pain each time a pill is forced down his throat. You don’t bother to knock as the doors slide open. Curly lies there as always, his head slightly tilted, his exposed eye fixed on you. He’s suffering in silence, as he always does.