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.

Inktober 2026 11, Rescue

Mission log, Day 11

RESCUE POD TRANSMISSION [AUTO-RELAY, SIGNAL DEGRADED]

…mayd—mayday. Pod touch-do█n confirmed. Landed. Hull ch@rred, aft sect-on b-rnt thr█ugh. Hatch popped on impact, seals gone. Cabin open to the e█terior.

Passenger g0ne. Repeat: passenger GONE. Couch empty, straps cut. No tr_ce. Beacon s-ill ping█ng from the pod.

Air 4% and f█lling. Power 11%. Ne-d re-sc– rescue… resc█e…

[TRANSMISSION ENDS]

Inktober 2026 10, Mystical

Captain’s log, Day 10

The mystical signal brought us here, and I wish it hadn’t.

At its source stands a structure so old that the land has grown up around it. The trees lean toward its walls like they are listening. The rock has folded itself around its base. Nothing about it feels abandoned.

Two enormous fins rise from the roof, tearing the air into plasma and forcing the signal upward in long, shuddering lines. It is not leaking out. It is being sent.