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Europa, 3rd Quarter of the 27th Cycle
The Mule was never meant to be a warship, but in the abyssal trenches of Europa, war is not a matter of choice. With its reinforced hull and cargo bays packed with vital supplies, it was designed to be a lifeline between outposts. Yet, in these dark depths, lifelines often become battlegrounds.
Captain Winters ran a tight ship. A veteran of many crossings, he knew the perils that lurked in the ice-cracked waters: mindless crawlers, the crushing embrace of the abyss, and worse—things with too many limbs and too much intelligence. That was why he insisted on keeping the Mule's guns manned at all times. Joe and Glenn, the security officers, never let their fingers stray too far from the triggers of the chainguns, knowing that a moment's hesitation could mean the difference between survival and the void.
Zappy and Dan, the electrical engineers, were the ones who kept the heart of the Mule beating. The reactor was a fickle thing, powerful but needy. They coaxed it with precise hands and keen minds, ensuring the ship never found itself dead in the water. The batteries offered a buffer, but it was a flimsy one at best. The engineers knew that if the power failed, the ship would become nothing more than a steel coffin drifting in the cold black.
Spartan, the ship's medic, had seen more than his fair share of horrors. He didn't ask questions when a crew member limped into the medbay, his suit torn open by something unspeakable. He just worked. Bandages, morphine, and the whir of the medical fabricator were his weapons in a war that never ended. If someone lost a limb, Spartan made sure they got back on their feet—Europa didn't wait for the weak.
Though the ship had bunks and a bar, there was little time for rest. Every journey was a battle against the elements, against the creatures that lurked in the dark, and against the slow creeping madness that came from months spent beneath the ice. There were moments of levity—shared drinks, bad jokes echoing through the steel corridors—but they never lasted long.
The Mule was not the fastest ship, nor the most powerful. But it endured. It pushed through crushing depths and unrelenting storms. It carried its crew through fire and blood, through ruined wrecks and abandoned stations where echoes of past failures whispered in the dark.
Every lever, every switch had a purpose. The searchlight, when misused, could draw predators from the abyss. The drainage systems, if left unchecked, could turn the vessel into a sinking tomb. The chainguns and coilguns, if unmanned, left them defenseless against the horrors lurking just beyond the dim glow of the floodlights.
Captain Winters had one rule above all else: "Stay moving. Stay ready. And never—never—underestimate the dark."
The Mule still sails the depths of Europa. Carrying cargo. Fighting off horrors. And most importantly—surviving. For now.
Only question is why does the captains quarters have the smell of mud raptors and rotting corpses, I think the captains hiding something...[End of personal log]
And thank you! It wasn’t exactly an original idea but I think they look nice