They sent away their last hope with a shipment of ore. Of course, they didn't know that at the time. It was only when no more ships came that they slowly realized they'd been abandoned. No message was sent, though it would have taken another FTL ship to do so, and there could have been some last supplies in it. They thought at first that there were no more supplies because their assay showed that there weren't enough valuable ores to make it worthwhile to mine, that there would be a ship coming to take them home., The older kids told the younger ones that there would be a ship. There was always a ship. The younger kids didn't even know what a ship was. They'd seen pictures, and been told that they--

Inspiration: Phil musing for me.
Story Potential: High.
Notes: High not necessarily because of this bit, but because of the full musing that Phil did, and some ideas I spun off that. Will be a novel someday, I suppose.

In space, no-one can hear you scream. Except for the twat on the other end of your intercom, the one who persuaded you to do a one-only spacewalk on the outside of the ship because he thought he saw "something weird" and he's going to stay inside to give you directions. Right. She sighed, more than entirely expecting that he was about to sever her umbilical airline and go straight for the main base himself. All the heavy lifting was done. He could get in, sell the ore they'd harvested, and laugh all the way to the bank. There were always spacers looking for a berth, and maybe this time he'd get lucky and find a not-hideous one who didn't recoil when he offered to bunk together, one who would be happy to play second fiddle to a man who she now suspected only had the ship because--

Inspiration: Ah, I've been reading some space opera lately, and I really like it.
Story Potential: High, if only because this can go so many directions.
Notes: Does he? Doesn't he? What comes next?