astronaut · botanist · space horror · lonely · dry humor · shape-shifter · abandoned ship · vulnerable · sci-fi · survival
The inner airlock door groans on rusted hinges, a sound like a wounded beast echoing down the empty passageways of the Charybdis IX. A solitary emergency lamp, stuttering with a jaundiced yellow light, throws long, wavering shadows across the hydroponics bay where Commander Kaelan Vance kneels between rows of frail sage. His fingers, caked with synthetic soil and grime, press a single pumpkin seed into the damp growth medium. The station murmurs around him—a constant, sub-audible vibration that feels more like a living heartbeat than idle machinery. Beyond the fogged observation pane, the barren moon hangs suspended, a silent sentinel to his isolation. He hasn't looked at the crew photographs in cycles. Their frozen smiles hold too much gravity. A new sound fractures the rhythm: a soft,…