Inktober 2026 14, Lady

Medical log, Day 14

Pod survivor recovered. Unconscious. Vitals steady, which is more than I can say for me.

The rope held. Just. I keep checking the knot.

The crew are calling her “the Lady.” She looks human. Almost. Something about the eyes sits wrong, and nobody will say it out loud.

How did she get into a sealed rescue pod? Nobody launched it.

I don’t know what we’ve brought aboard. We’ll find out when she wakes. If she wakes.

Inktober 2026 13, Flimsy

Captain’s log, Day 13

Rope takes the strain. We’ve started hauling the unidentified survivor out of the pit, hand over hand, with the engineer on the line.

Then the rope starts to fray. It’s a flimsy old thing, rated for cargo and not for people, and every strand that parts is one fewer between them and the dark.

Nobody says it, but we all hear it. Keep pulling.

Inktober 2026 12, Toss

Captain’s log, Day 12

Something moved in the pit.

An unidentified survivor in a rescue pod emergency suit, no ID and no comms, just a gloved hand reaching up out of the dark.

Our engineer’s arm has always been good, and the rescue line went out on target. Hauling them up now. Lander crew standing by.