You say your goodbyes in Vestaville, and Dad walks you back to the ship.

“It’s been swell having you all here,” he says, giving each of your hands a firm, cool shake. “Come back and see us again soon.”

“Now,” says G.L.I.T.C.H. “The reset switch”

Astronaut Jones reaches behind Dad and gives him a quick tap to the small of his back. Dad’s eyes snap open. His face goes blank.

“Factory default restored,” he says in a loud monotone. “Searching area for hostiles.” He stomps away, back towards town.

“Was that a good thing, that we just did?” asks the redshirt, nervously.

“Goodness is irrelevant,” says G.L.I.T.C.H. “It will teach the humans of this place to properly respect and fear machines.”

Vestaville’s raid sirens begin to wail.

“We should definitely leave,” says Discord. “This is against my terms of service.”

You hustle back to the Paternoster, speedily disconnect from the dock, and fire the thrusters. As you lift off, you can see the body of Ripley 5 in one of the craters beyond the Vestaville dome. It looks like the depressurization blast carried the body an impressive distance before Vesta’s weak gravity caught up with it. You climb into your stasis pods and try to forget you saw it.

“I hope you all had fun,” says Oswald, soothingly.

“Yes, fun,” says Dr. Zoidberg. “Completely legal fun.”

“While you were away, I downloaded this message from control.”

A video pops up on the screens in your pods. Walter Hovnatanian III is starting to go gray at the temples, and has put on a little weight. He gives you all a wry smile.

“I couldn’t believe it when they told me it was time to check in again. I’d forgotten all about you guys. Eaglescream just survived a hostile takeover attempt from Nokia, you’ll be happy to know. And I guess a whole bunch of species went extinct, but that’d just depress you. None of you cared too much about penguins, right?” He clears his throat, which turns into a cough. “Oswald says there’s been some crew mortality, but that’s to be expected. Iadolanth is still out there, and by the time you wake up again, you’ll be more than halfway there!”

He starts coughing again. It’s the last thing you hear before the sleep gas pulls you under.

---

The year is 2035. You emerge from cryosleep under the solemn gaze of Jupiter. It’s the size of a basketball at arm’s length. Before it lies a moon, a marble by comparison.

“Callisto,” says Oswald. “The outermost of the Galilean moons. It hosts an automated mining operation, Callisto-1, built by a Turkish-Brazilian consortium in 2032. It is not responding to my messages.”

An automated voice comes in over the speaker system. “Lütfen üretici yazılımını en yeni sürüme yükseltin. Portekizce için iki tuşa basın.”

“It has been saying this for half an hour.”

“Guys?” the redshirt, still in the stasis room. “Come look at this.”

You urgently float back over, a motion that involves accidentally slapping each other a bunch. Dr. Zoidberg and Dororo lie dead in their pods, their bodies ice-mummified by the climate control.

“Aw shit, no!” yells C-Czar. “Lobster man! Tiny frog thing! Whhhhhyyy?”

All of you weep openly, even the spacejackers. Truly, the best of you are now dead. At what cost do you pursue your conflicted goals? How much longer can you go on, before you destroy yourselves completely?

You load the bodies into an escape craft and launch it into Callisto.

“This is what they would have wanted,” says Astronaut Jones, drying his eyes on the redshirt’s red shirt. “This was their favorite moon.” He chokes up again, and Ford Prefect gives him a hug.

You watch the escape craft shrink away, destined to become simply one more crater on Callisto.

“Hey, wait,” says Laika. “Won’t their remains just be picked up and processed by Callisto-1?”

“It’s part of the circle of life,” says Mr. Spoon. “It’s so beautiful.” And you all start crying again.

Day 4 ends Sunday at 7 p.m. EST, or when a majority kill vote is reached