The sunset is beautiful and oppressive. Those of us who still notice it are sick of it. Petersen doesn’t notice anything. His low moans are as oppressive as Tau, but you learn to tune some things out. I told them to ration the painkillers so we’d avoid this, but Chaplin overrode me and now we’re out.

It’ll be just as well if Petersen lasts a few more days: the rations have run out. By the time Petersen passes on, Chaplin and Stevens may be ready for the unthinkable.

Everything would be simpler if I could get the taser from Chaplin. I lied when I said I couldn’t find any batteries for it in the wreckage. I found three and slipped them into my underwear while Chaplin was admiring Tau and Stevens was doping Petersen. Our resources might be enough for one of us to survive until a boat comes looking for us.

“You can almost see the Alphabet,” Chaplin says. He thinks he’s talking to me, I’m the only one nearby.

“You’re going to go blind staring at the sun, Cap,” I reply.

“Right there on the edge,” he says.