[ VOICE LOG ]
[ 07092182 ]
ALARM BLARING. A high, repeating klaxon fills the pod. The automated female voice cuts through in sharp bursts, words clipped by static:
“…Escape Pod Routing failure— System Err— recalibra— failed— coordina— unreachable— Escape pod— malfunction—”
Kaito’s voice tries to break through, but half-swallowed by static and sirens:
“…bloody racket, can’t even— …eh, listen— …voice recorder workin’, right? …hell if I know—”
Another alarm cuts across, drowning him. The system repeats its error.
Kaito exhales, ragged, then coughs. His words fade in and out under the alarms.
“…figure I might as well— …someone finds this— …not much left of me anyway…”
Static surges. Pod frame groans under stress. He breathes raggedly, but there’s a dry chuckle in his tone.
“… Might as well tell a story while the pod figures out how to kill me…”
Pod rattles violently, but Kaito presses on, tone softening with nostalgia.
“…Elmwood Mason. That was my best mate. Name sounded like a posh boarding school, didn’t it? First day of boot, Drill Sergeant yells ‘ELMWOOD MASON!’ and half the lads nearly stood up thinkin’ he was takin’ attendance at a bloody prep academy.”
Kaito wheezes, coughs, then lets out a grin through the pain.
“…So, me bein’ me, I thought I’d help him out. Said, ‘Mate, Elmwood’s too bloody long. You need somethin’ sharp, quick.’ He told me, ‘Just call me Elm, like the tree.’ I went, ‘Nah… Elm’s too serious. You’re Kelm.’”
Static crackles. Kaito snorts, his laugh raspy.
“…See, the bastard had this helmet with his name stenciled on it, right? Cheap paint job, half the letters rubbed off in the rain. Instead of ELMWOOD, it just said ‘KELM.’ Looked like it belonged to some discount Martian dishwasher brand. Kelm! Soon as I saw it, I knew that was it. The name stuck harder than chewing gum under a barracks bunk.”
Kaito coughs into his hand, blood audible, but he chuckles again, wheezing.
“…Poor sod tried to fight it. Shoutin’ at everyone, ‘It’s Elmwood, damn you lot!’ But by week two, even the Drill Sergeant was yellin’ ‘KELM, FRONT AND CENTRE!’ He looked like he wanted to bury himself in the parade ground. Funniest thing I ever saw.”
The pod shakes violently. The system voice cuts back in, cold and mechanical:
“…Escape Pod Routing failure— recalibration failed— coordinates un—”
Kaito cuts across it, voice fond but cracked with sadness.
“…Course, he got me back. Said I waddled like a duck after PT, swingin’ my arms like a daft bastard. And, y’know, he weren’t wrong. Then he added I was addicted to bad luck—every op, every assignment, always the worst hand dealt. So waddlin’ addict turned into Waddict. And that’s how I bloody ended up branded for life.”
Alarms spike. Fire licks audibly across the pod hull. Kaito’s voice is softer now, worn thin but warm.
“…Waddict an’ Kelm. Two idiots, survivin’ by laughin’ louder than the orders barked at us. God, I miss him… I miss all of ‘em.”
System glitches, breaking words into fragments:
“…Routing… failuuure— …coordina— …unstable—”
Sirens crescendo. Pod plummets. A final shudder, then a howl of atmosphere tearing past the hull. Kaito’s voice fades under it, soft, almost childlike:
“…stars don’t look like fire… they look like home.”
Impact. Metal screams, alarms die in one last shriek. Static consumes the channel. Then silence.
[ LOG TERMINATED – IMPACT RECORDED AT 12092182 ]
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[ SENDING RECORDED VOICE LOG INTO A NEARBY VESSELS ]
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[ VESSEL LOCATED ]
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[ VOICE LOGS SENDED TO USS ALMAYER ]
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