Under Pressure Edited Version

Before I begin, I'd like to expand on the intro. Skip this if you just want to read the story. I was challenged in early May 2014 to create a piece of work which could be appropriately titled "Under Pressure". I then also had to create a "linked task", a piece of work which could be linked to this story, in the form of either an autobiography or a newspaper article. This can be found beneath the main story, and is only a fragment due to the word limit. Though I'm still having trouble fitting this into the word limit (this is approximately 1400 words, so I need to decimate a good 400 to fit criteria), I wanted to publish this work because it's the longest piece of work I have ever written. Please be generous but constructive in your reviews!
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Main Article

The sun appeared for a moment to touch the planet’s barren surface, and then slowly began to sink further behind the great, crooked teeth on the far horizon. In a moment, all that remained was a sliver of bright blue against the sky’s angry red. Then the sun disappeared, the light died, and the dark blanket of night descended, pierced by thousands of stars. One of them was the Earth’s, 60 light-years away from the window, which was now entering its final stages. Soon, it would destroy the Earth - if WWIII hadn’t alrr.
    Euromerica had sent all of its people into space, hoping at least one of the ships would reach and colonise another planet. The Rosa-Marie had been sent off-course by a sudden meteorite storm, which had killed most of the crew. Rather than reaching their intended destination, they had been forced to land on this grey wasteland. A scouting party had been sent out, but only one man returned alive. Murdoch, the ship’s chief navigator, was being treated by Dr. Fisher for insanity.
    The ship’s temporary Captain, Higgins, had been placed in charge when the original captain left the ship with the scouting party and didn't return.
    Higgins continued on his way, each of his steps on the metal walkway ringing out and echoing down the once-busy hallway. He came to an iron door, marked “Investigation Room”. Today, Dr. Fisher was going to attempt to get more sense from Murdoch, and find out what had happened beyond those bleak mountains. Higgins let himself in.
    The room fell silent in his presence, and three faces stared at him. It was hard to believe that this was all that remained of the Rosa-Marie’s crew. Rowanson and Dr. Fisher were sat, but Grant was standing. It looked as if he had been trying to pick a fight again. Grant was a rather plump, angry man, and he glared at Higgins, the fire in his eyes hidden by his furrowed brow.
    Grant sat down as Fisher stood to address Higgins. “I’m glad you could come, sir. We’re about to begin the interview. Please, take a seat”. He gestured to one of the many empty chairs.
    “Thank you, doctor,” replied Higgins, as he sat down, “Now, shall we begin?”
    “Of course”. The doctor pressed a button, and a red light began to illuminate the interview room.
    “Now, Murdoch, can you tell me what happened to the scouting party?”
    “It killed them. It’s going to kill us”. Rowanson stood up; before he could speak though, everything went dark.
    “Damn power-cuts,” growled Higgins. For a month now, blackouts on the ship had become common, but now it was night, and the darkness was thick and drowning. After a minute the ship was relit by the eerie glow of emergency lighting.
    “Sir, Murdoch has disappeared!”
    “You think I don’t know?”
    “How?”
    “The vents!” yelled Grant, and in a moment, the three men began quarreling.
    “Quiet!” snapped Higgins. The squabble ceased, and all that could be heard was a faint tapping. It came from the floor, the ceiling, the walls.
    “We need weapons!”
    “Well, don’t just stand there!” Higgins commanded.
    At the armoury, the doors glided open with a faint hiss. “He could already be in here. Be careful,” warned Rowanson. The men stepped into the room. The emergency lights barely pierced the darkness surrounding the men.
    The men were breathing heavily. Fear is a disease, and it had spread through the men. “We know you’re in here.”
    The lights died. The sound of gunfire and yelling cut through the silence. Scuttling, shuffling noises. Then, the lights returned. Rowanson was lying on the floor, bleeding heavily from the side. His breath was shallow.
    “He’s been shot in the lung. Keep the wound under pressure whilst I get some bandages.”
    “Can you save him?”
    “I don’t know,” answered Fisher, and with that, he was gone. As Higgins was helping Rowanson, Grant was helping himself to the various arms around the room, his white pistol discarded and covered in flecks of blood.
    “Grant, what do you think you’re doing?”
    “Higgins, that man is dead. I, on the other hand, am still alive. I intend to keep things that way,” replied Grant.
    “Am...I...dying?” gasped Rowanson, his face contorted by pain.
    “No. Hold on - the doctor will be back soon.”
    “It hurts…”
    “I know.”
    “Kill me,” begged Rowanson. A gun fired, and the light in Rowanson’s eyes faded.
    “With pleasure,” chuckled Grant.
    “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
    “Fulfilling a man’s dying wishes.”
    “We could have saved him.”
    “You know that’s not true. I’m going to inform the doctor of this...atrocity.” Grant left the room, and the sound of his laughter rang throughout the ship. Higgins stood, then paused. Kneeling back down, he took Grant’s pistol and left.
    The silence in the corridor was interrupted by gunfire, and Higgins broke into a dash. When he arrived at the doctor’s office, he found Fisher’s body slumped against the crimson wall, with Grant panting next to it. “No...how could this happen?” asked Higgins. His sadness turned to anger, and he yelled “He’s here somewhere!”
    A figure stepped into the doorway. The room grew darker. It was Murdoch. “Why? Why did you kill Rowanson and Fisher?” questioned Higgins.
    “I didn't kill them. He did.”
    “Murdoch, they were good men, and you killed them.”
    “I told you. He killed them.” With this, Grant stepped forward, aimed his gun, and pulled the trigger. Higgins turned away, waiting for the shot, but nothing happened. He looked at Grant, who was cursing.
    “Kill him. You need to kill him.” Grant told Higgins
    “I can’t”
    “If you don’t kill him, he’ll kill you.”
    Higgins paused. Could he really kill this man? His friend? His vision was spinning from all the pressure he was under.
    “Take the damn shot!” yelled Grant. Higgins paused, then nodded. His hand steadied.
    “Murdoch, for the murder of two other crew members, I sentence you to death.” He closed his
eyes, and squeezed the trigger. The strength of the gun firing jarred his arms. Murdoch fell to the floor. Grant stepped forward. He was chuckling, as if he knew a secret that Higgins didn’t, and his hands were clapping in a sarcastic manner.
    “Well done, Captain Higgins,” he sneered, then, in a mocking tone, “Sir.” He kicked Murdoch’s corpse. “Quite a good shot, aren’t you? You gave me time to load my gun, too.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean you should never have been left in charge. I should have been Captain!” He paused for a moment, and then a sinister grin crossed his face. “And now, I plan to rectify the situation.”
    “I don’t understand, Grant.”
    “You really are a fool. I killed Rowanson. When the lights went out in the armoury, I meant to shoot you. But Rowanson got in the way, as usual! Then, when the late doctor left so quickly, I knew what he was thinking. Being a doctor, even a single glance at Rowanson would tell him I’d killed him. He was going to tell you, when he got the chance. I killed him too. Then, you came running, and Murdoch joined us. I was going to kill him, but as you know, my gun still had the safety on. So, while you took care of the situation, I prepared myself.”
    “Why? Why kill me? You’ll only be captain of a dead ship.”
    “So? I’ll be captain all the same. Enough chit-chat.” Grant aimed his gun. “Goodbye, Sir.” He pulled the trigger, but again, nothing happened. “For God’s sake!” Higgins realised this was his only opportunity. Once again, he aimed the gun. Once again, he was under pressure. Once again, he killed a man.
    Higgins sat down to collect his thoughts, and he knew what he had to do. He grabbed a pen, and began to write of the events which had transpired. He signed his name, and the lights fizzled out. He waited in the empty darkness. The hours slowly passed, until Higgins understood the gloom was permanent. A wave of depression washed over him. He searched the darkness until he found his gun, then lifted it to his head. He took a breath. This time, there was no pressure. He squeezed the trigger, and the shot rippled through the night.
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Task 2

I still remember the day the letter came through the post. I still remember Maria calling from the kitchen.
    God, I miss Maria. It was...difficult to make the decision I did. But I did it for her. I did it because as long as I remember her, as long as she is in my heart...she’s still alive, in some way. There isn't a day that goes by when I don’t think of her, with her flowing, brown hair and those eyes - those green eyes that were like an ocean, and I would lose myself in them like a sailor in a storm, even though there was always a calm in them, as if she knew that even the harshest of weathers would come to pass.
    Maria was more than my wife - she was a close friend, and someone I could talk to. We worked together as a team - “Like clockwork,” Maria would joke. Most days, I would need to get to work quickly, and so Maria would do jobs such as making breakfast for me, and fetching the post. Her cooking was amazing, and I would always let her know.
    One particular morning, I received a letter from the government. It told me of how I and my family were needed to leave the planet. Nuclear warfare and a dying sun had made life on Earth impossible. Maria and I were glad to be offered a way out.