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A scream ripped down the hall, twisted by horror so severe that nobody recognized the voice before it went strangled-silent. We locked ourselves away when the others came. There was a distant hope someone might come to save us, but nobody really believed that. If they said they did, they were lying. Each of us wept like children for hours on end. When they finally found us, I did what anyone would have done. It was only human, you understand, in the face of overwhelming terror and the certainty of death. I cried. There wasn't anything left to do.

>>>

They were terrible to look at. The bodies, I mean. Stripped to the bone, but not in any calculated or precise way. It was like each of them had been savaged by a hundred greedy beasts, then left battered by the ship itself after the grav gave out. Defiant had been free-spinning since the accident, and nobody knew how long ago that had been. I came with the scouting crew, praying against all odds that they made it -- came with the IMPS, even had an old gurney-droid on hand. We were ready for a massacre, but not like this.

Not like this.