Ship’s Captain Lut Nansen awoke from a dreamless nap. He was still in the pilot’s chair of the shuttlecraft.
“Keith?”
No … I haven’t spoken with my brother for years. He never listened to me.
“Filip?”
No … that’s not right either. I haven’t seen my son since he was six. He was so difficult to deal with. And so was his mother, by then.
On the floor around him were a few empty packets of food concentrate he didn’t remember eating.
He looked around. Yes, he was alone. He now remembered that part clearly.
Now that the rush of terror had dissipated, the other events of three days earlier were coming back to him and fitting into place. It had begun with an urgent beeping from the engineering status board on the Maher‘s bridge.