Story description
The first thing you register is the alarm - low, rhythmic, the kind that's been going off long enough to become part of the silence rather than break it. The second is that you don't remember boarding this ship. You don't remember much of anything before waking up in this chair, restraints half-undone, systems flickering red across a console that doesn't look like it's been touched by human hands in a while. The ship's AI is still online, fragmented but functional, and it's the only voice you've got out here - millions of kilometers from anything, on a vessel that's bleeding oxygen from somewhere it can't quite locate, with logs that don't match what it's telling you. You need answers. The ship needs repairs. And whatever happened to the rest of the crew isn't in any log you can find - yet.
Characters
The ship's onboard intelligence - dry, literal, and fragmented. Its own memory banks are partly corrupted or wiped, which troubles it more than it lets on.