The afternoon found us drawing lots to see who'd have to suit up and scrub the bat piss off the hull and cameras. While the atmospheric pressure was technically survivable, none of us were eager to test that practically. Luck smiled at Roland, condemning him to two hours outside listening to the "protective frequencies" blasting from our speakers. I almost envied him - after twelve days in this tin can, I could map every stain on the capsule walls from memory.

  By evening, we made our first real breakthrough. The scanners picked up a rock formation with a 92% match to the basalt slab that had crushed New Zealand. Above the fracture point gaped a circular opening nearly twenty meters wide - our echolocator managed to scan a few hundred meters in before hitting the first bend. Not quite the promised land, but better than nothing.

  Vesley and Roland fumbled with the balloon's pressure until we stopped level with the cave entrance. Aurora ran more detailed scans while I packaged all the data to send to SpaceX HQ, along with a pointed question about whether we were really expected to go spelunking in what looked like hell's front porch.

  Elon, presumably dragged from bed, responded with demands: we were to explore the cave to its end, then detour to investigate the lost capsules. He even authorized us to pop their balloons so they'd crash into the Goldilocks Zone for later retrieval. Our mission suddenly went into high gear.

  That evening we held what passed for a celebration in our circumstances. I prepared coffee and tea - carefully drug-free this time. Aurora reheated some rehydrated mystery meat that I desperately hoped wasn't laced with anything. Roland contributed a "stew" of freeze-dried chunks floating in what might have been broth, while Vesley miraculously produced an actual chocolate bar - where the hell had he been hiding that?

  Under normal circumstances, I'd rather starve than touch this astronaut slop. But after two weeks of ration packs, even this rehydrated garbage tasted like ambrosia. We ate, drank, and complained about Elon's culinary sadism while Ken alternated between muttering about his collapsed chakras and warning us about the eighth circle of hell awaiting us.

  Eventually, we staggered off to bed. Tomorrow promised either real progress or a spectacular demise. Either way, it would be more interesting than listening to Ken's delusions.

  * * *

  Hello, readers of the Paranoia Blog!

  … Well, fine. I have nothing to say to You. And don’t be so frightened when I write “You” with a capital letter. No one led me into the light. I'm just very... excited before putting on my pressure suit. So I’m being slightly polite.

  After a long, long, long (long) conversation, we decided that the first to step into the newly discovered cave would be Vesley Bernulli, Roland Foundland, and me — Nora Paranoia. The other three will guard the capsule from possible UFOs. I agreed to this arrangement only because Lara listens to every single one of my commands, and I have a strange hunch she won’t mess up on watch duty. Besides, Ken wouldn’t be much help right now. I can't carry an aluminum chair with me for his photosynthesis. Both hands are busy with more important things.

  Yes, you understood correctly. We found a cave in the wall of the Mariana Trench. So far, it's just a simple, dark, and very wide cave. At first glance — no signs of life. Vesley claims the Zeeland Basalt Slab broke off exactly at this spot. What an elephant was doing here at that time is hard to comprehend. If Elon hopes for green meadows and thick jungles under the surface of the planet, he will be bitterly disappointed. So far, nothing like that. Secretly, I hope we find nothing. Otherwise, we’ll waste extra time collecting samples and similar things. Think whatever you wish, Elon, but I can’t wait to go home, order a real pizza, two liters of Coca-Cola, and lose myself for a few days in front of the TV watching ads with an occasional movie.

  After that, I’ll go on a diet.

  What do you think of my plan?

  Kisses. XOXO

  Nora Paranoia

  April 5th, 1596 – 10:18 AM

  Attachment: dark_and_very_wide_cave.jpg

  * * *

  The SpaceX capsule always wobbled a bit, tossed by weak air currents, so standing on the solid cave floor felt… unnatural. No vibrations. Sixteen days into the mission, and three crew members had finally landed in the bowels of the planet. One small step for Vesley, one giant leap for me and the rest of humanity.

  The air pressure outside our suits was still at the bare minimum—688 hectopascals. On the way up, they’d set up gradual decompression, but it never got this low. Humans are built to exist at around 1000 hPa—that’s a ton per square centimeter. 500 hPa is the barely tolerable limit, below which breathing becomes a chore. 350 hPa? Life gets really difficult. 60 hPa? Your bodily fluids start boiling. Oxygen ditches your bloodstream. Then, you spontaneously combust...

  At least, that’s how Roland explained it. Though, given the way he cackled, I wasn’t sure how much of it was bullshit.

  Inside my suit, the pressure was a cozy 720 hPa. Same as the SpaceX capsule.

  While Vesley set up floodlights and relay equipment at the cave’s entrance, Roland eyed the jagged walls with unease. I filmed. Not like I had anything better to do—serious scientific equipment made my fingers itch. I was just a primitive consumer, like 99.9999% of all other hummus zappiens.

  The suits had external speakers, so I didn’t have to scream through my visor for the camera to pick up commentary:

  "Dark as a finger up an ass… Wait, Vesley’s about to flip another light on, and then we’ll get a proper look. So far? Bare rock, dear viewers. Lots of darkness, lots of stone, and… yeah, not exactly a thriving ecosystem. I feel like I’ve been kicked out of the house for not giving my mom a few million euros... Okay, Vesley’s waving us forward. Hope our APAP pill’s anchor lines hold. If the wind dragged it away, that’d be… inconvenient."

  I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves.

  "Zuzu! All good, Nora!" Roland Foundland tapped me with some gadget. For a second, I thought he was going to assault me. I barely stopped myself from flinching.

  "We’re… finally moving forward," I updated the commentary. "Cave’s wide—twenty meters across here, easy. Ken Celsey Buckingham can geek out over the rock composition later. All I see are weird mineral patterns. There’s a pale stripe running horizontally along the wall… and something darker, like… hell if I know. Not my department. Let’s check on Vesley. Man’s the team’s true pioneer—first to rush into the jaws of an elephant!"

  Vesley Bernulli had already ventured deeper into the cave, setting up two more floodlights—one angled backward, the other forward. His double-barreled rifle was propped against a boulder. The cave's end still wasn't in sight.

  (zzzt) "Nora?!" Ken Celsey's voice crackled through my helmet, sharp with nerves. I nearly jumped out of my suit.

  "What?"

  (zzzt) "Tell me the truth... How many demons have you spotted out of the corner of your eye?"

  I sighed. "Ken. Either stop hogging the comms, or I'll give Lara orders you won't like. Your choice."

  (zzzt) "...I think Aurora Tromp did something to me last night," he whispered.

  "Oh? What?"

  (zzzt) "I'm sure she's working with the demons and she planted something terrible inside me!"

  "What do you mean 'planted.' Did she gut you? Or just, y'know, rear-end you?" I had a slight clue what Aurora had done with him, but comforting Ken wasn't in my job description. As long as he kept his hands off navigation.

  (zzzt) "She... I think she invited one of them into the capsule! Used me while I was asleep! You get it—"

  "Ken." I rolled my eyes. "Don't wanna ruin your day, but you're fine." Half this conversation was probably being recorded for the mission logs. Eh, I'll edit it out later.

  (zzzt) "How do you know?! You keep hitting me with chairs every time I try to talk! How do you know which of my holes is fine?!"

  "We are not having this discussion while I'm filming," I cut off his spiraling whine. "I promise I'll listen when we get back, Ken. For now, stop playing with the radio and check the photos I uploaded to the server."

  (zzzt) "Really? You'll listen?"

  "We'll see. Depends if you're a good boy." Later, I'll tell him he wasn't.

  Goddamn it, Ken—now I'd have to dub this whole rant with something moody. A gothic choir, maybe. Perfect for this cave. Hell, if a Xenomorph jumped out and ate Vesley, even Elon's wildest fantasies would be fulfilled. No more missions.

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  After a few hundred cautious steps and another floodlight deployed, we finally reached a bend. The ceiling here dipped sharply. Stalactites glistened, hinting at water nearby.

  Vesley raised a hand. "Hear that?"

  I hadn't. Then I noticed my suit's mic sensitivity was set to 50%. I adjusted it.

  Oh. Now I heard it.

  Something growled. Something screeched. Wings flapped. Something was cutting, eating, running...

  "Should we really go toward that?" I whispered.

  "I've got a rifle," Vesley muttered. "And turning back now would be pathetic. We need one solid proof there's life here."

  "And an audio recording doesn't count, right?"

  Obviously not. I listened harder. ... Yep. Such sounds could easily be made by our Ken, stuck in the toilet.

  "Quiet. Lights off," Vesley ordered, already at the bend. "There's a glow up ahead."

  Considering we were lurking deep beneath the planet’s surface, any light source seemed suspicious. The next few hundred meters passed much slower as we relied on infrared cameras. My helmet display showed the ambient temperature creeping upward—closer to 20°C the farther we went. Ahead, a faint blue glow seeped through the cave.

  “Lichens,” Vesley muttered, nudging his rifle barrel toward a cluster near a boulder.

  Sure enough, lichens. Roland was already crouching over them with a specimen bag and oversized tweezers—the kind delis use for picking up rolls. I raised my camera and snapped a photo.

  FLASH!

  “Hey!” Vesley hissed, throwing up his hands in a 'what the hell, Nora?!' gesture.

  “Sorry!” I mouthed back.

  Then - a wet, clicking sound. Close. Very, very close.

  As one, we looked up. Beyond my visor’s pitch blackness, the infrared feed showed heat signatures clinging to the ceiling. My heart dropped into my boots.

  The cave’s roof arched higher here, studded with bat-like creatures—each the size of a calf—twitching in unison, their wide ears slicing the air.

  “Run. NOW.” Vesley roared, dropping his pack and gripping his rifle with both hands.

  SCREEEECH! The ceiling erupted.

  I bolted after Vesley without thinking. Roland sprinted too, tweezers jammed under his arm. Wings whooshed behind us as Vesley spun and fired over my head. I regretted setting mic sensitivity to 100%—the gunshot deafened me, the “bats” wailed like damned souls, and I nearly faceplanted. Cursing, I dialed it down to 36%. Honestly, the amplifier was pointless—their screeches were plenty audible without it.

  Then something heavy hit my back. I went down hard.

  “WARNING: SUIT BREACH. PRESSURE FLUCTUATION DETECTED.”

  Oh, fuck. A jagged crack split my visor. The HUD flashed plummeting numbers. My ears popped; dizziness surged. I sucked in panicked breaths.

  I don’t wanna burn alive, I’m too young to—

  “Hurry!” Hands yanked me up like a ragdoll.

  “V-Vesley! My helmet—!”

  “Cracked. You’ll live.”

  “I won’t combust?!”

  “Christ, girl, skip school?” He fired past my shoulder. My right ear went numb.

  “Ay—!”

  “They’re retreating!” Roland called.

  “Yeah. Overgrown rats hate noise.” Vesley reloaded, grinning. “Stick close and don’t piss yourselves.”

  “So I’m definitely not igniting?” I eyed both scientists.

  “Zuzuzu… I may have exaggerated,” Roland tittered. “No one combusts from minor pressure loss.”

  I bent to grab a fist-sized rock. He ducked behind Vesley.

  “Get over here, you little—”

  “Enough!” Vesley chambered a round. “We’re here on business.”

  “Right, business!” Roland peeped. “Nora, your helmet’s syncing with local air. Smell anything?”

  “Yeah! Sulfur. Might be your deodorant.” I tossed the rock aside. “I should go back and swap helmets…”

  "No need," Vesley shook his head. "Your suit will compensate the oxygen loss, and you'll adjust to the pressure soon. If you go back now, you'll just have to readapt. Let's at least check the light source first."

  He fired another shot at the last retreating bat creature and marched forward with determination - a real Indiana Jones in a spacesuit.

  "Holy shit!" He stopped abruptly at the fissure emitting light. "Get over here, you gotta see this!"

  Roland rushed ahead first, clearly afraid I might still throw something at him. My head was still spinning, so I stumbled after them.

  At first, I couldn't comprehend what I was seeing. Light poured from a wide crack in the cave wall, revealing an enormous subterranean chamber on the other side. About four or five kilometers across, with strangely sculpted rock walls that looked like they'd been blasted outward in some ancient cataclysm. Ancient, because every surface had been colonized not just by lichens but by dense jungle vegetation that cascaded downward from our vantage point to the cavern floor, where a lake shimmered. Even from here, we could hear a cacophony of animal sounds - birds chirping, something trumpeting like elephants, the hungry growls of predators.

  But the most bizarre feature hung suspended from the cavern ceiling - clearly not a natural formation. The geometrically precise structure angled slightly like an inverted Leaning Tower of Pisa, about half a kilometer long and partially overgrown with local flora. Its wider base glowed with an intense light source - the same one illuminating the entire cavern.

  "Sweet bleeding Christ..." Roland whispered almost reverently. "Is that... a starship?"

  "What?" I blinked at him.

  "You know, like the kind, the Green Lanterns flew between galaxies."

  "The what now?" I was lost.

  "From the DC universe!" He looked at me like I was an idiot.

  "Oh forgive me, Roland," I snorted. "I was usually asleep in physics class, so I don't know every universe's name or what kind of lanterns they use for lighting..."

  "I think he means his comic books," Vesley muttered.

  He slung his rifle over his shoulder, stepped through the fissure, glanced down, and jumped to a lower ledge. I approached cautiously. Right at the cave's edge grew wonderfully green, fluffy grass. The rock here protruded like a balcony overlooking the jungle below. Vesley began strutting in circles like some conquering king preparing to address the native savages.

  "Do you even understand what we've found?" He turned back to us with a crooked grin. "An alien structure under the Earth's surface! When we report this to Elon—no, fuck Elon! We could take the prize money and fund our own expedition! What do you think?"

  He raised his arms triumphantly.

  "What?" Roland looked confused now.

  "We could be filthy rich and famous!" Vesley shook his rifle in the air. "Think about it—this discovery with our names on it! Fuck SpaceX and that Musk bastard!"

  Suddenly, a massive black shadow blanketed the clearing. Two taloned bird feet snatched Vesley up. A serrated beak severed his helmeted head in one motion, and for two horrifying seconds, Roland and I stood frozen, listening to the creature struggling with its mouthful.

  KHACK!

  It spat out the unchewable piece right at our feet.

  With two powerful wingbeats, the predator shot upward, taking Vesley and his rifle with it.

  "What the fu—" I managed to whisper, trembling.

  Roland started screaming, stumbling backward into the tunnel:

  "Oh god, it took Vesley! Nora, our Vesley's gone! What do we do now, Nora?!"

  "S...shut up, Roland!" I snapped.

  My own hands shook with the urge to flee back to the capsule. Paranoia rising...

  This brilliant plan lasted for about three seconds. From the tunnel darkness, sharp claws gripped the fissure edge as bat-eyes studied which of us looked tastier. Then a second head appeared. Then a third. Their radar-dish ears twitched at our racing pulses.

  "H-here!" Roland yanked me sideways.

  I looked up just as the pterodactyl vanished over the cliffs with Vesley's remains. Then the cave mouth erupted with a screeching black tide of bats. We dove behind the nearest boulder.

  "So... now what?" I glared at Roland.

  "W-what?" His teeth chattered. "How should I know?"

  "You don't know how to survive in the wild?" I couldn't believe it.

  "I'm a biologist! We grow mold in petri dishes and torture mice, not camp in jungles! And anyway—this wasn't in my job description!"

  "You know what? My job description didn't include writing eulogies for all of you!" I snapped, eyeing Vesley's chewed-up, spat-out helmet. The dangling antenna caught my attention.

  "Ken?" I activated my comm. "Ken Celsey? Aurora? Anyone copy?"

  Silence. I grabbed my antenna—still intact, still straight.

  "They won't answer!" Roland watched the circling bat creatures. "The rock blocks radio signals. Vesley never set up the last relay station before we left the tunnel. And his backpack's still there—with all the gear and batteries!"

  "In the cave?"

  He nodded grimly.

  "Well, the bats flew out," I pointed out. "So maybe now's our chance to go back?"

  "Not sure..." Roland muttered. "We're dealing with an unknown species—no data on behavior, diet, or fears... I'm so hating this!"

  "I'm going back." I stood.

  "Wait, what about me?!"

  "You're welcome to follow!" I rolled my eyes. "Grow a spine, Roland! Whatever took Vesley was too big for the tunnel! What scares you more—a calf-sized bat, or an ancient winged dinosaur?"

  Finally, Roland decided sitting behind a rock was far riskier. We waited until the swarm circled to the far side, then bolted for the tunnel. The infrared feed showed it empty—but I didn't trust it. Last time, the tech had lied too.

  Somehow, against all odds, we found Vesley's discarded backpack. Roland pulled out the relay station and connected it to the battery. Then he grabbed the floodlights.

  "Aurora?" I tested the radio again. "Aurora, Ken! Anyone, respond!"

  "Paranoia?" Ken Celsey's voice crackled through. "What's happening? Aurora said she heard gunshots from the cave!"

  "Yeah, Vesley found something to shoot at," I sighed in relief. "We discovered an underground world... and we've got bad news, Ken."

  "You saw them, didn't you?" Ken's voice trembled.

  "Saw what?.."

  "The demons, Nora. The demons. You saw them. Admit it."

  Looks like my return would involve some vigorous aluminum chair therapy. Not just to calm Ken down, but to restore my own sanity...

  "No, Ken. Didn't see any. Not a single damned demon, just good old-fashioned mortal danger! Can you focus for one damn second?"

  (Deep sigh) "None of you understand me... Fine, what's this bad news of yours?"

  I could practically hear the unspoken challenge: "Prove your bad news is worse than mine!"

  "Vesley's dead," I said. "Got too bold, didn't watch his back. Ended up in some predator's beak. I cracked my helmet. Roland and I are heading back now."

  This time the pause stretched longer. Then:

  "You shall not pass!"

  "Ken Celsey..." I exhaled sharply. "I swear to god, you're about to earn yourself—"

  "You lied to me, Nora. There are demons in that cave, aren't there? You cracked your helmet and they got inside, didn't they? I won't let you bring them into the capsule! Let this be my last good deed in this world, I... KHACK!"

  A dull thud.

  "Nora?" Lara Barcroft's voice came through.

  "Oh thank fuck!" I breathed easier. "Lara, where's that goddamn Buckingham?"

  "Who?"

  "Ken. Ken Celsey."

  "I... don't know who Celsey is, but Ken's on the floor by the equipment," the blonde reported dutifully. "Aurora told me to pistol-whip him."

  "Attagirl!" I cheered. "Roland and I are heading back. Unlock the airlock when we knock."

  "What?"

  "The airl... Just tell Aurora to let us in when we knock."

  "Oh... okay!"

  "And tell her Vesley Bernulli... well, he's not coming back."

  "Who's Bernulli?"

  "Vesley. Vesley is Bernulli."

  "Did he change his name before leaving?"

  "No," I sighed. "Vesley's last name is Bernulli, just like your last name is Barcroft!"

  "Oh... what?"

  "You know what, never mind. Wait for us."

  "Okay," she replied cheerfully.

  So much for grieving Vesley's death. Sometimes I genuinely envied Lara's... simplicity.

  Roland finally connected two LED lights to the battery, flooding the cave with harsh white light. We exchanged glances.

  I looked past Roland, at the half-dozen spear-wielding aboriginals standing behind him. They wore woven grass cloaks for camouflage, their faces painted with grotesque white stripes. Judging by Roland's petrified expression, I assumed an equal number were positioned behind me.

  Or maybe the scientist's bulging eyes were due to the bloody spear tip currently protruding from his chest. Who could say for sure?..