Cryo-Sleep Aborted. Something tripped the system. Something activated the failsafes.
And now Vamps has to crawl out of her comfy pod and figure out what kind of cosmic nonsense is going on.
Vamps was this close to slipping into cryo-sleep when the alarms went off. Now she’s standing in the middle of the freezing ship, barely awake, yawning, and wearing nothing but her sleek, barely-there cryo-underwear—designed more for thermal efficiency than modesty.
The lights are flashing, and the ship is pitching a fit.
No onboard AI to pinpoint the issue. No automatic diagnostics. Just Vamps… sleepy, half-naked, and squinting at blinking panels, trying to figure out what the hell just went wrong.
"Automatic pilot, they said. Smooth ride, they said..."
Looks like nap time’s over... Time to play everyone's favorite game: “What Broke This Time?”
Vamps sighs, stretches, and starts her systems check—hoping whatever triggered the shutdown isn’t serious. Or at least not serious enough to require pants.
Crawford King
2025-04-19 23:27:12 +0000 UTC