The Sprague Diaries

[jammi]

01/06/819 - PERSONAL ENTRY

Well, we've been here for a few days and there's sod-all-else to do when we're off duty. Might as well start a log. Not like I've got any other pressing matters to attend to. The survey of the topography is going fairly well. We've had a few scanner jams where sand has got into the workings, but they've been easy enough to clear. Rodge' knows how to deal with that sort of thing, so we were only out of the game for an hour or so.

We're hovering a few latitudes south of the equator, looking for aquifers - big underground lakes. Colonial Authority reckons we can just drill a borehole down and draw drinking water and irrigation directly from the underground. Of course, that depends on us actually finding anything to begin with! Other than a few major iron lodes up in the equatorial mountain ranges, we're coming up dry. The only water I've seen has been in the cabin's cooler.

Thinking of which, the survey platform's everything we were promised and more - loud, crowded, hot and unpleasant. After a nine hour shift floating in circles around some God-forsaken desert, I've just got to think of the pay cheque to keep everything in proportion. Doing this for charity or patriotism alone might make my blaster's barrel start to look awfully nutritious. I'll cut this short now before I get too gloomy. Five days down, five months to go.

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02/06/819 - PERSONAL ENTRY

Covered about 70 clicks squared today. On planetary scales that's peanuts, but we'll get there eventually. That, or one of the couple of hundred other platforms will. Still no luck on the aquifers, either. One false alarm - the scanners picked up a moisture spike on the surface rock about 7 miles south - south west of where we're currently anchored up. Closer inspection revealed a crashed ship - the sensors were picking up the leaking coolant and internal fluids.

Matt reckoned the scattered wreckage would have made it about fighter sized. Beats me how he could tell - the thing was a mess, scattered over a square mile of ground. Nice impact crater, too. Either way, it didn't look like a Bretonian model and there were no signs of life. Transponder was dead. It'd either been there long enough to run out of juice, or was battered bad enough not to work. We flagged it up with ExSec HQ and floated on past.

We've got a hydrogeologist tagging along who insists there's water around here somewhere. Says the topography is right for it - sounds like bollocks to us. He wants us to run scans along the darkside of some nearby mountains - thinks there might be some underground runoff from internal springs, or something. I'm not one for wild goose chases, but a job's a job. Captain White's up for it, so it seems we all have to be as well. No doubt tomorrow will illuminate us all.

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[jammi]

03/06/819 - PERSONAL ENTRY

Well, the Doc was right. We hit water - shame it was only the size of a large pond. Not enough to stick a colony on top of at any rate. The search continues. We've started dropping down further south into the cooler regions. Where we were first scanning, the midday heat could peak at 65°C, surface-side. Hot enough to make me grateful that we're up in the air in a self contained unit; you could kill an unprotected man in short order in that sort of temperature.

I don't see why we were poking around the equator in the first place. Sure, it's the most efficient place to launch or drop a ship when you account for the planet's spin and inertia, but you can hardly live there. They'd either have to build the entire colony underground, or have everyone wandering around in heat suits. Not my idea of fun. Where we're heading, there's actually a bit of scrubland. Some sort of grass - where there's plants, there's water. Has to be. They can't be surviving on thin air and good intentions. It's cooler, too. Hopefully that'll translate to it being less stuffy in here.

Not much else going on. Bit of talk about the drift south, and John setting up a poker club. Lauren's already in a mood, says he's cheating. He probably is. I couldn't care less. The game passes the time, and we're not playing for serious money. Capt' White and the Doc are staying out of it. Probably trying to get all lordy about the division between 'men and their officers'. The sooner they realise they're corporate and not admiralty, the better. Will make life a little more bearable for the rest of us at the very least.

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04/06/819 - PERSONAL ENTRY

Shifted down a few more circles of latitude. We've not been scanning at max intensity, just surface mapping. We've not seen much of interest - just the odd stone pillar and desert messa. Minor dry canyon systems, stuff like that. Must have been a lot of water around here at one point. Had to have been water erosion that made these features. That's what Doc reckons, anyway. God forbid I second guess the opinion of our hydro-"The Pond"-geologist.

I think we covered about 160 miles before we anchored up for the night. I flagged a few ore lodes for BMM on the way down. We saw the first few clumps of scrubland as well. Not particularly impressive. Anaemic looking yellow strands, not at all like the fields of Cambridge. Strange how a planet so close to home can be so alien. Thinking of which, I heard there are alien ruins all over this planet. Not seen any yet, but here's hoping. That'd be a story to take back with me.

John and Lauren have already made up. He figured it wasn't worth his while to piss off one of the expedition's only women over a game of cards. I hear he gave her one of his rations of beer he smuggled in through ExSec control. Hah. Maybe I should try and wind him up. I wouldn't mind a drink. Would probably only get a black eye for my troubles, mind. That'll do for now.

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[jammi]

05/06/819 - PERSONAL ENTRY

Well, the plant life isn't much to write home about. Only seen the one sort - grass. Stretching for miles and miles and miles. It's a yellowy/brown colour. Not exactly the sort of thing to inspire high spirits and notions of adventure. It's all terribly dull and anaemic looking. I doubt even the green lobby on Cambridge could get excited about defending this lot when BMM's quarrying ships move in on the ore lodes. On the plus side, we found the water we were looking for. A geoscan sweep showed a confined aquifer running underneath the plains.

Of course, when I say 'confined', I mean 'sat under a shelf of granite several strata layers down'. That's not going to be fun to get to. The Doc reckons the grasses here probably have root systems that drill all the way down and tap into it. Impressive for a bit of zombie-shrubbery.

Oh, before I forget, first bit of excitement. Big spike on the ther/mag probes at around 1330. At first we thought it was just another iron heap, but the shapes were reading as geometric - artificial. Looks like we just found our first ruin. Shame it was about half a mile underground. No way we're getting to it. We flagged the finding with ExSec HQ and carried on our way. Hopefully we'll find one on the surface soon - they say these things are hundreds of thousands - if not millions - of years old.

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06/06/819 - PERSONAL ENTRY

Well, there goes the settlement bonus. Received the report on the wideband this afternoon. Platforms A10/SH and A41/NH have found ideal colony sites - HQ is evaluating their findings to see which one is most suitable. There goes the finders fee that I signed up for. Damn shame. Now we're down to standard wages, unless we find something unexpectedly useful.

I hear they're going to start shipping in from next month - investment money's been rolling in from the private sector, seeing as the government's all tied up keeping Leeds in one piece. The legislation all flew through the Commons a couple of months ago. Knew I was going to end up getting sucked into it the moment I saw the report. Who'd have thought being a pioneer was so dull?

Lost 30 credits on the evening poker game, which isn't helping my mood. Probably going to sit it out for a little while. Lauran's tanning the lot of us - I'm starting to think those crocodile tears a few days ago were just a ruse so she could hustle us good. Bitch. Never liked her anyway.

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[jammi]

07/06/819 - PERSONAL ENTRY

Well, isn't this fun? We've been given new marching orders. We're to change vector from south-east to north-east; one big ol' triangle. We're going back to the equator, joy of joys. They're looking for a site to place the spaceport, and we happen to be relatively close by, so far as longitude goes. Shame they didn't say so five days ago. Could have saved all of us a load of useless hassle. Anyway, some bright spark thinks there's a hopeful looking mountain range they could perch the launch pads and storage warehouses on top of. Time will tell, I suppose.

White is packing up all the sensor equipment and pulling us up to high altitude. Says we'd be covering dead ground if we kept up on high intensity. Man has a point, and up above the low-level atmo fluctuations, we should make good time. Took us just under a week to get this far down, but we should have burned most of the way back in forty eight hours (give or take) - providing Capt' White and Mike (co-helmsman Dravis) run a staggered shift and go through the night. Can't see it happening, personally. We'll probably anchor for the night, go into power conservation and carry on in the morning.

Lets call it three days travel for optimism's sake. At least I'll sleep better during them - John offered to swap bunks with me. He knows I don't like this one. Too close to the engineering compartments. Repulsion plates rattle the decking, drives me nuts. Pretty sure he isn't being altruistic though. Lauren's holed up on her own next door. I'm sure that's got nothing to do with it though. Because none of us have noticed the looks they've been giving each other. Jesus, they make me sick. What happened to professional standards? More to the point, why didn't it work when I offered some unprofessional fraternisation?

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08/06/819 - PERSONAL ENTRY

No real duties to attend to today. Sensors are all stowed, so the Capt's got us all recalibrating and priming weather beacons. We're chucking one out the airlock every 100 miles or so, like a high-tech bread crumb trail. We all know there's nothing wrong with them, but monkey does as monkey's told. He's just giving us something to do, as menial and mind-numbing as it is. I might start a novel. "101 Ways to Die of Boredom on an Alien Planet." Would sell for a bomb on Leeds.

Grass is starting to thin out again. We're moving back into the dead zone, "the place where nothing lives". Temperature has been rising accordingly. Probes were reporting a balmy surface recording of 33°C at our most southernly point. We're up to 46' as of right now, and that's during a night cycle. A little hot for my liking, but more or less tropical. Humidity is the kicker, of course - drier than a nun's unmentionables. Not a lot of water moisture floating around this planet. You get the odd cloud though. I think we hit one earlier on. Most exciting thing to happen all day.

The post got beamed through from orbit this morning. It was piggybacking a Bowex convoy that was heading out to Ol' Doug' I think. No chance of instant messaging until they sort out the docking ring. Even then, we're in isolation until our tour is through. Sue sent me the latest album from the Gaian Death Cult. Atrocious music, but it helps leaven the mundanity of my day. Urban legend says each member of the band to play a set has rapidly died a grisly death, thank grief. I tried establishing a Yahtzee club to undercut the poker game. No-one attended. Probably wasn't a good idea.

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[jammi]

09/06/819 - PERSONAL ENTRY

Well, that was fun. Last known position: somewhere in the desert. Last logged exterior temperature: 61°C. Current status: FUBAR. There was a loud bang from the aft side at around 1915, then we lost a hell of a lot of altitude. Probably dropped a couple of hundred feet. Didn't help that the deck lurched 20 degrees - a few bruises, and Matthew lost his rations. I think they're plastered all over him and the mess room's ceiling until someone can chisel it off. Either way, 'White hit the emergency button and took over from the autopilot to guide us in for an unscheduled landing. We're sat on a dune in the middle of no-where at the moment.

The platform engineer, Leon (and his croney Ben), just got back from taking a look outside - they had to wait until dark for the temperature to drop. Wouldn't have been an issue if we were equipped with EVA void suits, but we're not meant to leave the vehicle in non-habitable zones. That makes them a "needless expense", right? It does if you're a corporate manager! Not looking good. A stress fault on the alloy casing of one of the repulsor panels cracked wide open, which took out the internal mechanisms. Means our primary system of propulsion is partially dead in the water.

The onboard computer compiled a report and dispatched it to ExSec HQ earlier on, and notified the other nearby platforms. Hopefully we'll be getting some backup soon. Or some news, at the very least. Fortunately, we dropped a weather probe just before we went down, so we've got a fair warning of what's coming. Unfortunately, that involves a big-arse wind system hurtling straight towards us. So, we fall from the sky, get beached in the desert and now we're about to get hit by a freaking hurricane. Come on!

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10/06/819 - PERSONAL ENTRY

Storm hit yesterday, literally a few minutes after I closed last night's log. We're all battened down for the worst. Compartments are stowed, and we've got the remaining repulsor plates ticking over, ready to level us out should the dune give way. That buys us a little time, anyway. My worry is getting buried alive - I'm reading winds of almost 120 MPH, and the sand's gusting so hard that I can't see 6 inches out the view ports.

Makes me glad we're in a sealed environment. All of the external vents and openings were sealed in advance. We're running off internal oxygen stores for now. We can keep that up for a week at most, then we'd have to open up and get a lungful of sand. Not that the storm will last that long. Can't do. Best thing we can do is sleep it out, not that that'll be easy. Listening to the sandstorm pounding on the hull is a fair bit distracting. I'm going to see about helping myself to some seds from the medicine stock. Should put me out for the count.

Haven't received the sitrep confirmation from ExSec HQ yet. The emergency report was sent in tightbeam directly into orbit, bounced off one of our satellites. Should have dispatched it straight to the trade lanes after that. Atmospheric conditions are hopeless though, so I have my doubts about a return signal getting through. We'll have to rely on the fact that they received it, and re-broadcast when the weather clears. White and Doc spent the day pinging all of our comm lines and getting no reply.

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[jammi]

11/06/819 - PERSONAL ENTRY

It keeps getting hotter in here - the air con is doing its best, but it's not calibrated for prolonged, equatorial heat. No-one is talking much. They're worried about being stuck, and looking forward to someone bailing us out. Leon can't give field repairs a go until the storm lets up, and even if he could, the damn ship is sat on the damaged component. We'd need to overcharge the other repulsors to keep us in the air and stable enough to work on.

The storm has been going for just over a day now, and doesn't seem to be letting up. Worst thing is, comms are still down. The sand seems to be generating a charge as it hits the hull. It's dampening our sensors and killing any incoming or outgoing transmissions. We can't even tap into the weather grid to see how much longer we're in for this. Even that small mercy would relieve some of the damn tension. What a bloody disaster!

I swear I can feel the deck sliding as well. My handheld has a spirit level display built in. Maybe I'll have it take a reading overnight, set my mind at ease...

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12/06/819 - PERSONAL ENTRY

The only thing that eased is my bowels. Not good. Not good at all - we're subsiding. The ship is rolling to its port side as the dune we're on is dissolved by the storm. Which I might add, is still bloody going! At this point, we don't even know if HQ got our emergency report. Could be that we're stranded here with no-one knowing any better. The required daily sign-off might even be overlooked if they knew we were heading into a bad atmo patch... I don't like thinking about it.

I spoke to the Capt' about the slide as well. He thanked me for pointing it out, and said we'd put the remaining repulsors on heavy burn later on, if the situation got any worse. I can understand that he doesn't want to overly tax what we have left, but if we roll on our back, that's my spine and several million credits of investment down the drain. Penny pinching isn't helping anyone here! The bloke has his head so far up his own rectum, it's popped out his throat again! Tempers are rising with the rest of the crew, as well.

Where we don't have any duties, most of us are just staying in our bunks and keeping to ourselves whenever we can. Probably for the best. Already heard terse words in the corridors. If we don't get moving again soon, we might have a serious problem on our hands.

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