Symbios Read Free Page B

now, with the last of the soup gone, with the hunger pangs returning, I am afraid.
    Voice Module 195589
    Record Mode:
    Four days since I’ve eaten anything. Zabzug had stretched out my belly, and I drink a lot to keep it full, to try and fool it into feeling sated.
    My belly isn’t fooled.
    I’ve managed to get into Zabzug’s ship, using a key. It’s a tiny sphere he’d been keeping in a pocket. When it touches the ship, the portal opens.
    I’ve fully explored the interior, trying to gain an understanding of how it works. The vessel is a marvel of engineering, with a navigation system light-years ahead of ours. The technology is even more valuable than the iron-rich planet I’m stranded on.
    If I can get off this rock, I’ll be the wealthiest man in the universe.
    The first thing I’ll do is get a limb graft…no, the first thing I’ll do is have a banquet. A feast that will last a month. I’ll gorge myself like the ancient Romans, purging between courses so I can cram in more food.
    Such a beautiful picture.
    Voice Module 195590
    Record Mode:
    My wrist isn’t healing right. It doesn’t seem to be infected, but the wound keeps opening.
    I think it’s a symptom of starvation. My body is conserving its energy, and deems healing unnecessary.
    I’m so weak it’s an effort to even stand up.
    I have to do something. If I stay here, I’ll die. Perhaps there’s food somewhere else. I’ve scouted at least fifty kilometers in all directions, but I need to pick one and keep moving.
    I decide to follow the sunset. I’ll leave tomorrow.
    I have no other choice.
    Voice Module 195591
    Record Mode:
    I don’t know how far I’ve traveled. Perhaps a hundred or a hundred and fifty kilometers. I’m in a desert now, and ran out of water a few hours ago.
    My tongue is so thick it’s hard to speak.
    I fear sleep, because I don’t think I’ll wake up.
    Voice Module 195592
    Record Mode:
    I can’t move another step. Thirst is worse than hunger. I’m hallucinating. Hearing things. Seeing things. I even had a fever-dream, imagining a space ship crashing in the distance…
    Voice Module 195593
    Record Mode:
    A week has passed.
    Obviously, I didn’t die in the desert. I was rescued. Well, sort of.
    That ship I’d imagined I saw — it really did exist. A salvage ship, which had made a run at retrieving the trailer full of ore we’d lost.
    They also got sucked into the wormhole, and were spit out here.
    Their ship is damaged beyond repair. They’d been here for only a few days, and saw my Voice Module unit glinting in the sun.
    They listened to it, unfortunately.
    Marta, the woman, said she didn’t judge me. She understood.
    The man, Ellis, didn’t say a word to me.
    I received fresh water, medicine for my wrist, and synth rations.
    “We have enough synth rations for a month,” Marta told me. “And we’re hoping for a rescue.”
    But all three of us knew that a wormhole rescue has never been attempted. It’s suicide to go near those things.
    I eat, and drink, and try to regain my strength.
    I’ll need it.
    Voice Module 195594
    Record Mode:
    I got them while they slept.
    Ellis, with a large rock to the head.
    The rock made a mess. I smothered Marta. Not bloody, but it took a while.
    One month rations for three people equals three months rations for one person.
    I’m sorry I had to kill them. I truly am.
    I’m not a monster.
    Voice Module 195595
    Record Mode:
    Is this thing still working?
    Play Mode:
    Is this thing still working?
    Record Mode:
    It’s been…how long has it been since I used this? Many months. Perhaps years.
    I stopped shaving, and my beard reaches my chest.
    Where did I leave off? I think it was with Marta and that guy, I forget his name. The one I killed with the rock.
    It was for their synth rations. I paced myself, ate small portions, but still finished them too quickly.
    I knew what was next. I knew it from the beginning.
    When the rations were finally gone, I ate the people I’d