Horror Story 2955 - The Heat Death of the Vara

The nest is warm. A lovely place that has the scent of us. A safe place, all for us. The ones outside the nest, the big, noisy ones, have stopped moving. Their hearts still sing, but they don't move. Maybe they didn't like the jumping feeling of the big metal box we are all inside. One of them brought us inside it.

Cargo manifest entry: Container for shipboard pets, with 3 aloprats. Owner: Captain Tisiphone Heptane

Outside of the nest is cold. Where the Cold is. It is where the food is, too, so we must go outside. We can bring some food back, but we must be quick, or the Cold will catch us as well.

The Cold has caught them all. We can tell where the Cold is, and we don't go near it. Only two of us know this. One of us has also stopped moving.

Captain's log: The Hadesians have created such wonders, but also terrible things. Whatever this thing is, I am the last one left but for my little friends. I have brought enough food in here to last their remaining time. I won't be here to help them once the ship emerges next time. I am the last one left, and each time we fall out of the verse, one of us stops moving. Forgive me, little ones. We will not make it. Maybe you will.

We leave the nest. First we sniff a greeting to the one who doesn't move, and then we find our way down to the space across the floor. The food is easily found, and smells inviting. We eat our fill, and pick up more to bring home. It becomes wet in our mouths, and will not last, so we will have to return again after the next jumping feeling. It will happen soon.

Engineer's log: Quantum drive's failed. No idea why, but something to do with the planet. Only caused more problems than I fixed. We are... I don't understand it, but we have ended up sort of... jumping sideways. Then chef stopped moving. And now heating's on the blink, great. Right? Yes, great!

It becomes too cold, too fast. We must return to the nest. We move quickly, and we make it. I almost make it. I do not. It is cold. There is one of us still moving now. I hear them make it. They understand I am not coming back to the nest. I am still here, outside.

Doctor's log: The med bay isn't big enough to handle this. But the ship isn't going anywhere. Engineering says all systems insist they are fine, but nothing works right. It's all I can do to push fluids into the poor sods who got caught by whatever shows up when we emerge from the jumps. Seven so far, all have ended up with what seems like a kind of stasis paralysis. We have already lost as many years, too, going by the ship's time, however that works. At least the cold seems to be keeping them stable.

I feel the big metal box move, in a direction that has nothing to do with space. I feel the Cold. Know it. It only wants to help. Save us. Prepare us. Help us know forever.

Captain's log, continued: I have locked down comms to send out a Stay Away, and removed all access, including my own. If the ship keeps skipping like this, we'll reach the end of the world soon enough. We're only out of jump a couple of minutes, and there's less and less time between them. Heat death of the Universe is going to happen soon enough. Seems a bit soon to be getting chilly. I know that that was wrong, but I can't change it. Whatever came up with us from the surface is... Friendly? It is cold, but it wants to help. I don't know how I know, but I kn...

We are all here now. The big ones can hear me as well, and I can hear them. Humans, they are called. We will return again, unmoving, and each time, we will remind others around us that we exist.

Each time we return, the message is sent out to stay away. We know now, this will not work. It has not worked. We have had guests, and now we have more friends. More who are prepared, with us, for forever.

Rejoice, new friends. As the ship grows, as others dock with us, there are more of us. A new friend every year.

Forever awaits. The end of heat will come. You all will be with us then.