Last message received by the UTS-589

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This message is addressed to only survivor of the UTS-589. My crew has verifiable information indicating this current communication is being decoded by someone at the transmission room. We thought the computational system had been seriously damaged, and that it was going to be impossible to reach a living person down there after such a brutal attack. Believe me, you cannot imagine the tremendous joy we felt when knew everyone had not be annihilated. Miraculously, the photoreceptor device keeps working on so well despite its actual state. That will give us time. Listen, due to the urging character of the events we must face right now, I need to be extremely brief. And you, by your side, need to understand carefully what I will say here. Be aware that there is too much in game: we do not have the luxury of errors. If you look closely at the left part of the desk, you will find a black suitcase. It has a big size and weight, and it is connected to the system. Do not lose sight of it, because from now on you must take care of it as if it were your life. I am afraid I am not be able to explain you enough, but indeed exactly what is required to accomplish simple instructions. We were part of your same unit at the beginning of today operation. Our mission consisted in supporting the offensive advances the East Fleet was going to develop, as planned. However, before everything started, the high command assigned to us a special task. Our duty was suddenly turned from a routine performance that demanded brave spirit and cold mind to a critical and unbearable mission. Almost of doom nature for some of us. You see, I am talking about the quantum keys of communication. The navy secret keys for war time. We were given a series of coordinates aimed for their transportation, with the final destination strictly forbidden from our knowledge until last minute. We did not know it at the time, when we received them, but later on we found out somehow that this charge was not simply a fraction of the known quantum keys: we were actually carrying an uncountable amount of codes containing vital information for reading vast parts of our network. Surely, not all of it, but yes, the enough volume. According to them, there were few things for truly worry about. They foolish themselves believing the enemy would never be able to track our intentions. But we were the ones who realized magnitude of their mistake, and the ones who were condemned to deal with it. The first hours after having set off passed in quiet normality. Things were just working as planned. Even the pressure system, which failures had become a norm in every test we made, was running perfectly for our delight. This seemed for an instant so simple that everyone aboard had forgotten the despicable object we were moving. Until the radar lieutenant broke the silent with a frightening scream: an unknown object suddenly was traveling with great speed toward us. We panicked. And yet we what to do with precision. The manoeuvre was excellently fast, but there was not anything else possible to try: the torpedo hit the back part with such a force that the death came for some crew members with an instantaneous stroke against a wall. I consider myself lucky of having a position in one of the front rooms. The remaining men, hardly anyone and hardly capable of action, fought with an inhuman will to stabilize the ship. I wold like to say that we struggled for saving our own lives, but I cannot lie in that way: our lives did not matter too much by that time and we knew it. Our cargo, our cursed cargo, was the thing that deserved to be preserved. Against all odds, the ballast tanks were still functioning and so we reach the surface. Conscious that it was matter of waiting to return to the depths and sink, we decide to leave the mission floating adrift. We send its location to the nearest ship from us, the UTS-589. Your captain was the only one allowed to know the real content he was asked to fetch, who felt frustrated when he saw his fate being sealed with that thing inside his ship. That is why you do not remember having picked up something, but you do remember an unexpected change of the course. Hours later, after rescued, we finally knew your ship whereabouts: discovered and attacked by the enemy. Disabled, but not sunk. No survivors. With the aggressor submarine approaching her. Now that you are aware of being the only one with life, you must prepare for the following. This message takes its real purpose here. Read slowly from now. The truth is that, we know our men did not survive there. We know the ship yields empty and immobile. Empty, of course, of its crew. And you, my friend, do not belong to the crew. We thought, for an instant, that the explorer sent by the enemy could not be so naively predictable. But here you are, in the transmission room. Alone. Forgive us if you conjectured that the important black suitcase we mention before has the precious keys: it is just a mechanism designed to blast with a one thousand characters code. Now, if you look the upper-right corner of the computer screen, you will see a number: 917. The number of words this message has so far. And if I tell you that every word has a hidden character, we both know what will happen. I am wondering if you, at this exact moment, are trying desperately to halt the remaining sentences. But I can accurately imagine the answer, because there are only two possibilities: yes or no. If yes, face the fact the system is currently is unstoppable now. If no, close your eyes and wait for this phrase ending.