Inktober 2026 6, The OGRE

Engineer’s log, Day 6

Main plant went down again at 0340. Three subsystems threw errors I’ve never seen, and the diagnostic AI asked me to “please restart the universe.” Not helpful.

So I went aft and woke the OGRE.

The Oxygen Gas Recycling Engine is older than the ship’s paint. No firmware, no network, no software updates. It has a hand crank, a dial with one needle, and a flywheel the size of a dustbin lid. The brass plate on the front says D9, and nobody knows what that means. The pipe fittings are held on with bolts a child could undo.

Inktober 2026 5, The Smack

Log entry, Day 5

Captain’s log. Day 5 out.

Space is empty. That’s the whole point of it, and I’d got used to it. Four days of nothing on the scope, and the crew had started saying the odds were with us.

At 02:14 ship time, they ran out.

It was a hard knock, felt through the deck plates, then the alarm. Something small and fast hit the port nacelle housing and went through the outer skin. The scope shows a vapour trail where it came in. We’re venting coolant from the damage.

Inktober 2026 4, Cactus

Scrubbers at 87%. Cactus at 100%.

Chief Engineer’s quarters are the only place on the ship with a plant, and technically it shouldn’t be there. The mass allocation sheet lists it as “personal effects, 0.4 kg, non-essential.” The pot is a standard-issue ceramic planter, orange from the factory, bolted to the desk with two repurposed cable clamps.

The cactus is a prickly pear. He’s had it longer than the posting. It’s flowered twice, and both times it was a surprise. Nobody has ever been able to tell him why it flowers now and then.