The klaxon alarm that heralded the evacuation of Terra Prime still haunts my dreams.  Even though I am a safe colonist on Lunar Prime.  The desolate floating of everything on this rock feels like the primal birth of something voidal, gaping, and incessant. Like a fly buzzing just on the outside of your perception barrier.  Taunting and also easy to dismiss with enough distraction. The trouble is, distractions like food rations, and lavatory tickets,  run out.  And you are left with the mundane filth of your madness.  Buzzing against your skin like musk layered on musk for days,  weeks, months.

Maybe longer.

I hardly leave my abode cell.  My tusks are starting to get brittle. Flaking chips of bone if I breathe too hard.  I am startled out of sleep one day by a message on my viewscreen, nearly blinding me as the notification icon flashes on my visor. 

Survivor of Lunar Mission Ceti One

We received your distress signal.  We should be within orbit within six hours of this message.  Our mechanic died of fever three days ago.  Bad news for him. Good news for you.  One seat is available for you.  Be ready Survivor of Lunar Mission Ceti One. Six Hours.

Jeddite Defense Council 

Quadrant 1188