There once was a space station owned by various governing bodies to establish secondary homes for our species. The head director was an influential and punctual guy, going over every meticulous detail you’d imagine. He gained the unanimous trust of all of his subordinates
One fateful week his daughter died of some mysterious condition that the doctors couldn’t figure out. His health too began to decline and with it his mental state. He was less prideful, less kind, and less inspiring, but people still trusted his intelligence and sharp intuitions.
This was a mistake
On June 13th, 2081, on a Friday, a ship was prepared with the first colonists to the red planet, Mars. There were 2,586 people on the ship in total, full of hopes and dreams. The Director, in his diminished state failed to recognize a blinking indicator that was connected to him via a mind link, for he was terribly unfocused, thinking of his daughter. The indicator was highlighting a punctured fuel line that carried Tritium to the main engines. The cheerful fresh faced colonists boarded the ship and prepared for the countdown. The indicator blinked on, in his head, silently
5…4…3…2…1 *BOOM* 💥. The entire landing zone was utterly decimated. And all of the 2,586 souls were lost. Everyone turned to the director, some with anger in their eyes, horror in the eyes of the other. This trip was supposed to be the last time some of the people present would be seeing their family again. Little did they know it would be in this way.
Some people stood by to protect the Director. Others doggedly dove for him. It was an absolute massacre. The facilities have since been decommissioned. If you go there, you can still hear the chants of the souls that were lost that day, and even catch a glimpse at their ethereal forms
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