On the fourth day of the second dek, we departed for the neighbouring star system.
Preparations had been in effect for the last four years, and the mad race between advancing technology and budgetary constraints had finally come to a close. It was time to leave, and nothing more could be added or modified. We were ready.
The lockdown sequence was relatively quick and methodical. We'd all been through the drill at least a hundred times. Now all that was left was for us to prepare for cryo-freeze.
We made our way to the cryogenic storage level and started to prep ourselves for cryo-sleep. I found that my entire perception of the chambers was different this time. They seemed bigger and less claustrophobic. I no longer felt the inhibition towards locking myself into the chamber for the long journey ahead.
The medics gave us one more check over, and I took a final glance at the other crew members -- all seven of them.
And then -- there I was. Lying on my back, feeling the slippery smooth material against my skin. The glass shield slowly slid into place. Its servo motors whined, followed by the hollow click of the locking mechanism. The medic checked the readout on my freezer and gave me the thumbs up, just as consciousness began to fade.

I was sitting at the mess table with the rest of the crew, enjoying my first meal after the long sleep. We were chatting and getting ready for the planet-side drop to come.
I was especially pleased to find that the planet -- and the system itself -- looked just the way I had imagined it would. It was almost miraculous ...
... then -- suddenly, the power grid started to fail. The lights flickered and went black. I could hear the ship's siren. It was odd -- as if far away. The voices of the other crewmembers began to fade out, as a curved glass pane became visible right in front of me. I could see dim red emergency lights through, and reflected on, the glass.
It was then that I realized that I had been dreaming and that I'd just woken up from cryo-sleep. Something was very wrong with the ship.
I fumbled with the cryo-tube's console and managed to type the exit code -- only after three attempts. The glass barrier passed from sight, flooding me with the stale smell of the ship's ambient oxygen. After about two minutes, I found that I could sit up and attempt to stand. My first try failed, and while sitting, I looked around at the other chambers in the dim red light. They all appeared to still be sealed. Yet I could almost swear that two of them were cracked on the surface. How could that be?
I was suddenly struck with sharp pangs of fear. Here in the darkness, with the ship's sirens wailing away in the distance. I almost wished that this was a dream and that I could simply wake up -- or at the very least slip back into the cryo-tube and go to sleep.
Finally, I managed to stand up. I walked over to the tube closest to me and examined it; it was in perfect condition, but its contents were missing. Where could he be?, I thought, Why would he leave his chamber?
I then moved on to the next chamber and was shocked to find that not only was the glass seal broken, there were only bloody remains inside the tube. Colonel Rigger's body had been mutilated -- almost beyond recognition. Blood was smeared all over the inside and part of the exterior of the glass. There was a fist-sized hole punched through the bowed pane.