Bird Logbook Entry Draft 2

''The hell is it..?''

''What, did the damn thing reboot itself again? I swear, the data terminals are more reliable than that bucket of bolts. Company's gonna have a fun time RMAing these things when they hit store shelves.''

''Not just that, but now it's... got a friend?''

''The Company sent that prototype along for the mission so we could send it out to explore and scan things. That's it. So, who decided to give this thing social skills? What the hell has it found, anyway?''

''It's this flying creature that's been sticking around the bot. Almost looks like a normal bird from back home.''

''And why didn't it just scan the bird and move on?''

''It did, actually. Added the bird to its wildlife catalog under the name 'Jade Thrinch'. Behaviors and beak structure suggest that the creature poses an incalculable existential threat to uh, small arthropods, soft-skinned fruits, and seeds. Slightly less so to us. But there's some behavioral feedback loops going on that are making the bot 'like' having it around: 

Bird sticks around BAS-10, bird gets passively scanned by the cameras, bot's AI is rewarded for a successful scan; ergo, bot likes the bird. Happens over and over, a few thousand times so far. What's really fascinating is that the reinforcement loop seems to persist through full resets, no matter how many it runs itself through. It's like whatever bug or... feature, maybe? It's like it's baseline, or something at the hardware le-''

''And we didn't test for this kind of thing before dropping it on the planet? UES didn't test for it before saddling us with the damned thing?''

''You wanted it out the door ASAP, techs didn't have time to run a full diag after getting it out of the crate. I'd have loved to pick its 'brain' about this subroutine it's running, do you think maybe I could insp-''

''Subroutine? Great, so our pet robot is doing side quests instead of what we sent it out there for.''

''Progress is slow but it's still performing its tasks - when it's not going through a hard reset cycle, at least.''

''Reboots and attachment issues. Guess we'll send it to the techs if it ever makes it back onboard. Or a therapist, I guess.''

Necromancer Logbook Entry

They called you a failure. Inept. Useless.

Shunned you, dismissed you from their inner circles. Denied you their secrets.

So you ran away. Fled. They laughed at such cowardice.

But you would not be gone for long.

You were not one to simply flee in cowardice. You would seek satisfaction in... other fields.

And so, you took to your studies.

Pored over secret tomes that they decried as heresy. Declaring it tainted, they discard the seed alongside the chaff.

You discovered secrets and magicks they could never dream of. Manipulation of the very essence of life itself.

With but a thought, their hearts would be in the palm of your hand.

Such is the power they denied. They feared to cross that line. He who has never tasted grapes, says sour.

But not you. You are much more. 

Perhaps you might do them a kindness. Repay them for such gracious hospitality.

Reunite them with lost kin? Childhood friends, or wayward lovers, long since departed?

Relieve them of that burdensome life they so desperately clung to, grasping little fingers scrabbling for purchase as they cast parsimonious opprobrium down on you. Perhaps grant them some small magnanimity, earning their meager worth serving under a new master?

This is precisely what I mean to do. The power they so self-righteously disavowed is mine to command. 

These wizened old cowards shall frustrate my studies no more. They will make for apt pupils, learning a lesson they have shirked far too long.

And I? I shall be a teacher most sublime.

Grand Admiral Logbook Entry

"Who the hell's the dude been mean-muggin' all the officers?"

"You didn't hear? He's one of the top guys at UES. Ranks above the Captain, even. Grand Admiral, I think. Top of the top dogs. Added to the ship's roster last minute. Guess the Board called it in."

"Nah, I been wondering what his deal was. Shot me a glance the other day like I was doin' something wrong. Man, I was just eatin' lunch! 'm I eating lunch wrong now?"

"The guy's super scary, I've heard stories. If they're even half-way true, I want the hell off of this ship."

"Like what?"

"On his last assignment he was there for the long term, had his office filled to the brim with a bunch of art. Paintings all over the walls, weird sculptures all lined up on tables. Seems he's a big collector. One day, one of the grunts went in for a talking to and knocked something over on accident. The thing got shattered into bits. The Grand Admiral was stone-faced, just ordered him back to his quarters. Next day, 0600 sharp, grunt gets yanked out of bed and marched outside. Had him face the wall and executed the guy. Did the deed himself. A pile of ash got sent back home to the guy's mom."

"Nah, stop cappin'. Ain't no way he could get away with that kinda thing."

"Who's he got to answer to? There's a couple other Admirals at the same rank, and above them it's just the Board of Directors."

"And the Board is just chill with this dude killin' his guys whenever he wants?"

"Guess he's that valuable to them. If that's really how they feel, I'm turning in my papers once we get back home. I want nothing more to do with this company, man."

"So what the hell we doin' on this mission if they sent *him*?"

"After hearing all that, I don't think I wanna know. If you ever end up having a meeting in his office, just be careful not to touch **anything**."

"Ain't that the truth."

Goobo-13 Comic Draft

{The beginning panel(s) are blacked out, viewed from 13's perspective with closed eyes. Speech and thought bubbles need distinct styles and fonts for both characters.}

Agent 13 regains consciousness after his injuries. His eyes remain closed, and he remains silent, mentally going over the situation he finds himself in.

*Okay. I'm hurt pretty bad. What the hell just happened? Ran to the loading bays for evac, something exploded, I got knocked out... Then I-*

Goobo interrupts. {13 does not yet notice they're sharing thoughts. Goobo's speech bubbles appear out of the body, not from a face or mouth.}

"Firteen okay?"

{Depict a blurry view of the ceiling, viewed through opening eyes. Cut to a tight angle of just 13's helmet, yet to see any of Goobo's matter surrounding it, and then to a shot of their full body.}

The being that is now Goobo-13 is laid on the floor of the ship. Agent 13 is dazed, just waking up after his injuries. 13 looks down to discover that Goobo has coalesced around his broken body. His right arm is severed above the elbow, his lower half is separated from his upper, the detached pants of his atmospheric suit bulging taut around the gelatinous mass that now surrounds most of his body. 13 continues to take a mental tally.

*Well, that can't be right. I'm dreaming. Or hallucinating... I-*

"Firteen, plees get up!"

13 interjects aloud.
"Stop interrupting me! I'm trying to think!"

"No time for tink. We find papa."

"Papa...? Who the hell- Oh. You mean the doctor? Right... You'd be that new goobo specimen. He kept calling himself your papa."

"Big stong goobo put you back together so we find papa!"

"Put me back... I really have been torn to bits, haven't I..."

13 slumps down within the gelatinous mass that surrounds him. The mass urges the pieces of him upright.

"Alright, alright! I'll get up. We'll go try to find your papa."

...

Goobo urges the body forward, barely knowing how to walk.

"Oh for the love of- Just let me handle it! At least one of us knows how to walk."

"Walk..."

"You just move your legs like this, one step after another, always moving forward. No, not like that!"
Goobo-13 trips and falls, the goo morphing to absorb the impact.

13 thinks to himself as they clumsily roam the corridors.
*Just gotta find him, he'll be able to figure out what the hell happened to me... The man's always been a magician with the scalpel. He can put me back together, and get this goddamn goo off of me.*

The gelatinous mass sags at the thought.
"You no want goobo? Goobo put you back together..."

"What the fu- Get out of my head!"

"But goobo just help. To thank firteen."

"I... Let's just go find the doc."

...


Goobo-13 continues trudging through the broken corridors of the ship, steadily increasing in the pace and dexterity of navigation.

"Looks like the whole ship went down. It's a wonder there was anything left of me to save..."

"Goobo protect you! Papa said so."

"Well, I'll have to thank your papa when we find him. I probably owe him a few beers for this."

The pair comes upon the doctor's quarters in the medical bay. Debris entombs the entire wing of the ship. They excavate the debris. Along the way, they find a piece wedged tight. It cannot be moved without the help of another.

"Great. How are we gonna get through? We'd need someone on the other side to pry it loose."

The two pull and push and twist the debris, to no avail, ejecting backwards from the strain. Upon the sudden landing, the Goobo matter finds itself separated into two piles. One portion coalesces around the parts of 13, and the other forms a similar, smaller shape of Goobo-13.

"Okay... New plan. Send the uh, other half of you, through that gap in the wreckage."

"Okay!"

The separated mass of goobo material deforms and snakes through the debris. As it plops to the ground on the other side, the facsimile of Goobo-13 rematerializes out of the mass. Together with the main body, they clear the debris. With the way clear, the two masses meet again and reform into one.

"Mmm... Tasty goobo!"

"Not sure I'm gonna call that tasty, but it worked."

Upon finding the doctor's office, the two of them come upon a massive hole in the side of the ship, leading outside onto the surface of the planet. A trail of blood and non-human footprints lead outside and into a cave. Goobo-13 rushes to follow the trail and comes upon a large force of Lemurians, clawing and biting at a lone human figure in a white lab coat, laid out in the fetal position.

The two cry out in unison, words overlapping.

"VICTOR!"
"PAPA!"

{Any enemy horde can appropriately replace the Lemurians here. They are simply fodder for Goobo-13 to fight off to reach the doctor. The details of the fight are also fully flexible. Just showcase what Goobo-13 can do.}
With heretofore unseen coordination and precision, Goobo-13 rushes to attack the lemurian force that has taken the man. Goobo produces clones of itself to dogpile and explode upon the lemurians, Goobo-13 lands punches with incredible brutality at others. 13 grabs handfuls of the Goobo material and heaves it at yet more. 

All the lemurians lie dead, and Goobo-13 stands panting, more as a muscle memory than a necessary bodily function.

Goobo-13 approaches the man in the white coat, and finds him lying still, clutching an empty canister. The words "Specimen 208" are scratched out, underneath is masking tape with the words "Perfected Goobo" scribbled on.

Goobo cries out at the sight.

"PAPA! Goobo help Papa!"

A large mass of Goobo-13's material flies off towards the doctor's limp body, leaving 13's broken form unable to stand. The pieces of Agent 13 collapse under their own weight, barely held together by the remaining Goobo matter. 

13 speaks out, weakly.
"Goobo... I don't think you can do anything to help him..."

"No! Goobo help papa and thirteen! Papa told Goobo! Goobo promised!"

Goobo surrounds the body of the doctor and tries to stand, but the body remains limp. The amalgamation collapses into a pile.

"STOP, GOOBO! Let him rest. He's...
 
God, of course you don't understand... He's gone."

"But..."

"Please, Goobo. I can't even stand up without your help. I need you. Vi-... Your papa's in a better place now. There's nothing else you need to do for him."

"Gone... Better place... Can't help papa... Then, I help thirteen instead?"

"Together, we can give him a proper burial. He's the only reason either of us is still alive. So we just have to keep going. Carry his legacy on, with us."

"Like walking? Always forward?"

"That's right."

"For papa?"

"Yeah. For papa."

{All white background showing the grave standing alone in hazy evening lighting}
A humble grave is dug, and a cross made from debris of the ship is sat atop it. A white lab coat is strung across it and an empty specimen canister sits at its base.

Vaultress Logbook Entry Draft 3

 ''Okay... okay. Gotta stay focused. Where am I, how's my stuff?''

The woman hurriedly dumps the contents of her bag onto the ground and starts inspecting the various baubles she has collected on her travels. She finds everything she has miraculously intact, despite the fall she took. And whatever else had happened between that and her now being trapped here.

Multiple groans and grumbles of various timbre ring out in response to her. She jumps at the sound of these new voices. After traveling alone for so long, it's strange hearing others speaking her language again. Strange, but comforting. She dusts herself off and gets to work.

''Okay... Got all of my stuff, found some new muscle, trapped in... what and where, exactly? Gotta run a scan of the surrounding area...

Within a few hundred meters it all looks natural, then it repeats. Exact copies every time. We must be in a simulated reality space. This is nothing like the tech I've found elsewhere on the planet. Just have to see if I can get a look outside, see where the real Me is...''

A holo-display shines onto the inside of her helmet, showing the terrain scan data. Underneath the tiles, something resembling a network of nerves or roots spreads through the facsimile she finds herself trapped in. Following the lines to their nodes, she finds the organism hosting this simulation; and through it, a way to look into real-space. Instead of the cramped cavern she sees with simulated eyes, she instead finds a barren expanse, with glowing purple orbs jutting out from beneath the sands. She hones in on one of the rocks in the creature's field of view and runs another scan.

''Huh, interesting. Not a geological formation, but biological. Encoding DNA using the molecular structures of polymers. Suspend those polymers in liquid, and harden it into easily contained and transported rocks. Like a mosquito preserved in amber. Just gotta... put my own mosquito back together. Here's hoping those crabs didn't snip any of my wires.''

The simulation of the woman pulls out a data-pad from her bag. Somewhere, within the infinitely viscous fluid of translucent purple stone, disconnected transistors arc to life. Void cells flare open in response to the tampering. The liquid slowly coalesces back into a humanoid form, micrometer by micrometer, monomer by monomer. A's go with T's, C's go with G's. A simple matching game, trillions of times over.

''Last step has gotta be to disconnect myself from this simulation. Nothing to do but hope that that puts me back in my body...''

Some probing around the creature's neural space and she finds the entries for everyone trapped within. A connection is quickly severed and everything goes dark. 



She stands up, shakily; now on real legs. She counts her fingers to make sure she put herself back together correctly, and double- , triple-checks the contents of her bag. Then, she gets to work freeing the others.

''First prison break's on the house. You guys better be worth the trouble, time to show me what you can do.''

Musician Logbook Entry Draft

//--AUTO-TRANSCRIPTION RE: INVESTIGATION INTO UNIT 263366 PLANET-SIDE MC INCIDENT, UES [Redacted]--//

For the life of me, I can't get that freakin' sound out of my head.

Ok so, new guy gets assigned to the team, I hear grumbling that he's a big shot back home. I ask what for, and apparently the guy's a DJ! I'on know why we got stuck with a drummer boy for our mission, but I'm not gonna stroll up to Cap with my Big Boy Pants on and ask what for. New guy does what he's told, lugs around his own gear, and does a lotta typing in his terminal. Says he's composing a new song. Doesn't bother me, long as I don't gotta hear that crap when I'm trying to get some shuteye. 

Was a pretty normal mission up until the third day. Out of a cave and we end up in these ruins right along a mountain face, with a bunch'a lava streaking around the perimeter of it. All the whiz kids on the team are going crazy about the possible history of the place, how advanced civilizations were before we ended up on this rock. They break out the brushes and tiny hammers and go to town. Me? I'm just the grunt lugging all the hardware around. I set it down somewhere it won't catch fire and pop a squat. 

Drummer Boy climbs about halfway up and finds this machine with a bunch of shapes 'n such on holograms in a grid, leading to a platform. His eyes are glowing like diamonds.

Then he goes all like, ''This is it. It's gotta be it. I can finally make it.'' or something like that, I could barely hear 'im from down where I was.

So I'm just sat down on a rock catching my breath when the whole structure starts shakin'. The four-eyes all hunker down where they were at and I stand up and start looking for what the hell's going on. I see Drummer Boy up at the controls of the thingamajig and he's plugged his gear into it. Little did I know the guy had a freakin' turntable and amplifiers in his bag. He's twiddling around on his deck feeding tracks into the machine. And this thing is glowing like crazy. He didn't bring anything for a lightshow but the machine was doing that plenty. Looked like some kinda gatling gun firing off rainbow lasers. Stuff was blasting outta the machine like waves, I was seein' colors that I didn't know existed! Anyhows, whatever he was doing pissed off the locals.

Bunch'a stuff starts bearing down on us. I'd already grabbed my gun and started shooting at anything not wearing our colors, but we were getting swarmed. I ditched the gear and headed to our guys but they couldn't do much for themselves with brushes and tiny hammers. By the time I got to where they were, they'd gotten all munched up by the local wildlife. Wherever they were now, it's better than this craphole.

Meanwhile Drummer Boy's in his own world, still twiddling at the controls. All of a sudden, he screams out at the top of his lungs, ''I'VE GOT IT'' and flips a switch on his deck.

The shaking gets worse, I start thinkin' this tower's gonna collapse on top of me, and I book it. The machine he was fiddling with flares up, and starts blasting out this unholy noise. I felt my teeth vibrating out of my skull, I felt my backache flare up like my spine was getting twisted into a pretzel. I couldn't think, see, hear, or taste straight. Whatever sounds he was making, they knocked me flat on my ass. 

Eventually it quiets down enough for my gears to start turnin' again, and what I saw looked like one'a those horror flicks. Blood and guts everywhere. Bits of all'a that stuff what was tryin' to eat us, or uh... succeeded in eating us, in the case of the whiz kids, ended up along the floors, walls, the freakin' ceilings! The creeps were all shredded up. Looked like if you shoved them through a meat grinder and blew it out of a fire hose. I'm talking 'Banned from Theaters System-Wide' levels of gore. Protests from angry moms on dozens of planets trying to get the director tarred and feathered. Mass Hysteria type'a violence just happened here. Drummer Boy just strolls over towards me, still bobbing his head to whatever cacophony he just composed, and gives me a hand up. I ask him what the hell happened. 

He just chuckles and says, "It worked like I wanted, but I think I turned the volume up too high, sorry."  

//-- END OF RECORDING --//

Kaiju Logbook Draft

''Sergeant, I'm going to need a VERY good explanation for this if you don't want me calling security right this instant.''

''Ma'am, our team was underground, planting sonar relays to chart the recently discovered cave system down south. We were hunkered down after feeling some quakes from deeper in, prayin' we didn't end up trapped by rockfall. The shakin' quieted down after a while, 'n we advanced down the caverns to get to the survey point where the above-ground scans went dark. We found charred lemurians all over, and somethin' had wallered out a bunch'a holes all down the cave. Melted right through solid rock. Magma worm. Thinking it had already moved on, we kept goin'. We reached the spot to plant the beacon, turns out it was a cavern big enough to park the ship in. I had reckoned we must have found the magma worm's home.''

''Is this going to get to a point any time soon? I want to know why I've got a CHILD, covered in ash, on this ship, halfway across the known universe from any other children, sat on my triage table!''

''Quakes started back up and the three of us holed up in a tunnel. We heard these mighty roars, damn near blew our ears out. I could just about peer into the cavern still, and I saw the magma worm that we had rightly assumed was causing the quakes. It was getting thrown 'round by a gigantic lemurian; would tower over them big yellow ones. Them worms are dozens of meters long, and the lemurian was manhandling 'im. Slammed it to the ground, pinned it by the tail, and ripped the whole worm clear in half. Length-wise, from the jaw on down. Afterwards, it just sat down and slumped over. Like a littl'un after he's had his fill of a tantrum. Let out this... sob?.. That's the best I could describe it. A howl, maybe? I don't know if it was pain, or some'n else. We ran out into all the dust that got kicked up to investigate, and found the kid crying, curled up in a ball next to the what was left of the worm. We scratched the mission and took her right on back to the ship.''

''And that's your full report, nothing about where this child actually came from, or how she ended up planet-side, or how she survived into her teens, seemingly on her own?''

''I'm telling you what I saw and did, ma'am. If'n I find out more, you'll be the first to hear.''

''And what in the hell is she wearing?''

''Looked to me like she was in some kinda pajamas, ma'am; but that's a lemurian hide. Seen them things too close up to mistake it for anything else. And I'd recognize those devil horns it's got anywhere, after what I just witnessed.''

Dreadnought Logbook Entry Draft

You know those UES Commandos? The guys in the orange armor with the dumb bubble-shaped atmo helmet, the guys they seem to be able to duplicate by the dozens to muscle up their ships?  Yeah, you'd think with how many of those guys are out there that they'd be considered ''replaceable.'' Not quite. They're recyclable.

Pretty often one of those guys ends up wounded on a mission, maybe loses some limbs, minor organ failure like the lungs or the heart. Just so long as the brain's still intact. They get put on ice and shipped back to HQ. They get delivered in body bags and everyone assumes they get a soldier's burial. Nice, clean, respectful ending for their service.

Except, that's not how it goes. Company can't let all those years of training go to waste so easily. Once they're away from the prying eyes of the public and the Company's more loose-lipped low-level staff? The Medical team gets to work prepping the poor sod to get Entombed. Whatever's left of them gets closed up in a strongbox with tubes going to all their vitals. Air, blood circulation, disposal of waste products - when any of those are even left. The electrodes interfacing with the brain get hooked up to the Boot Camp. With the ''volunteer'' all plugged in, they run an AR training program to get them accustomed to the Dreadnought suit. They learn to use its capabilities, weaponry, run it through the drills. And they feel every step jostling their remains in the strongbox. Every bullet dinging off the armor sends a flood of pain signals back to the brain. Every crunch of a skull underfoot is like nails in their eardrums. That's when they start flooding you with the stims. 

And then, for just a moment, you don't feel like half a man floating in a metal casket. You feel like a god. A destroyer. Anything living or moving in front of you is a crunchy leaf to step on, or a loose bottle to shoot off the fence. 

Just for a moment, though. That's the trick. Too heavy on the stims and even the Company wouldn't be able to recover their... assets again. So they gotta ration it on you. All that power and euphoria fades away, and suddenly your wounds ache more. You remember the state that you're in. How much, or how little of the ''real'' you is left. How your own eyes haven't seen the sun in 29 years, 3 months, 15 days...

3 hours, 28 minutes, and 41 seconds.

Please, let this be my last mission.

E.C.O. Logbook Entry

7 million tons of cargo and the UES sends the circus to run our security detail.

Plenty of their own grunts on board, but for whatever reason they decided to contract out two mercs as well. I recognize those patches, pretty big company they're running out of. Worked with some of their guys before, on smaller missions. Generally been nice dudes.

They sent us some weirdos this time, though. One of the guys is pretty bubbly. Eager to have a chat, but the conversation stretches on too long, and he starts grating on you. Don't think I've ever seen someone look like they had fun traipsing up and down the halls of the ship on watch before. Must be that music he's got playing all the time. I should ask for a listen one of these days.

The other guy's the complete opposite. Plays this job dead serious, like any second something's gonna jump out of a storage bay and tear the ship apart. Keeps his gun out and his supply pack on at all times like he's on a ruck march. I got a peek into their room while walking by it one time, and the guy sleeps with the damned thing strapped to his back. Has hardly spoken this whole mission, but he knows the words "Yes," "No," and "Sir," at least. He doesn't even talk to his buddy.

Writes plenty of reports, though. Every single watch I have to sign off a few pages of observations he's made during his shift. Stuff like, "Found strange stone carving in cargo bay 9. Flat circle, plinth in center, horns erupting from both sides.", or  ''Radar detected ship approaching starboard side, 0.25 ly. Hailed and identified as fellow UES cargo vessel.''

His buddy I'd rather have a drink with, but this guy's definitely the better security officer. Just a few more weeks of reports to sign off on before we get to Procyon, and we'll be done with this mission.

Bit-B Logbook Entry

 //--AUTO-TRANSCRIPT FROM UES RECRUITMENT AGENCY, [REDACTED] OFFICE. SEE NOTE--//

Alright recruit, we've got a special job for you... two?

Why are there two of you? I got told to pick a new hire. Singular. Budget constraints.

You with the boombox I know, who's the guy brooding behind you?

Whatever, doesn't matter to me. Security let you in my office, so the brass must be cool with the duo act.

So, special job.

Shipment heading out to some backwater planet outside of the policed sectors, and the ship needs muscle. Nice muscle, though. White-glove kind of security gig.

I don't get paid enough to stroke egos, but I like what I'm seeing in your files. Most of it, at least. This gig's gonna need you to follow some ground rules. I don't need you schmucks acting up.

First off: You're gonna play nice on the ship. This isn't the kinda outfit that's getting piss-drunk every night and having brawls for funsies. Keep it clean. We got a reputation to uphold here.

Second: No ''borrowing'' any of the passengers' personal belongings and DEFINITELY not any shiny bits from the ship itself. You might think you were slick on your last job but I've got an itemized list right here. With the price tags. You're not gonna pull that crap on our dime, not with what we'd be paying you.

And finally: You're gonna follow orders. You are not on a ''make it up as you go'' job like whatever that last gig was, you are on a ''sit down, shut up, and do what you're told'' job. If you're gonna be on our payroll, wearing our colors, you're gonna have to make us look good. Capiche? How's that sound to you two?

[UNINTELLIGIBLE]

Enthusiastic, I like it. And you, Spooky in the back there?

[NO AUDIO PICKUP]

I'm gonna take that grunt, or groan, or whatever that was, as a 'Yes.'

Good, glad we're all on the same page. Welcome aboard!

Oh, and one last thing?

For Pete's sake, when you get on the ship, keep that music DOWN.

//--END TRANSCRIPT--//

Note: Due to an... unfortunate occurrence, our interviewer had his coat on for this interview. This completely muffled any audio pickup besides his own. Naturally, these two candidates were among the ones he picked; and we have zero intel on them, barring his statements made in the conversation. As you may expect, he got picked up clear as glass. Passing it to you to run it through some filters and data reconstruction. We need to figure out who these guys were.

Vaultress Logbook Entry Draft 2

''Alright, sound off. Who's not dead?''

The woman dumps the contents of her bag onto the ground and starts inspecting the various baubles she has collected on her travels. She finds everything she has miraculously intact, despite the fall she took. And whatever else happened between that and her ending up trapped here.

Multiple groans and grumbles of various timbre ring out in response to her. She jumps at the sound of these new voices. After traveling alone for so long, it's strange hearing others speaking her language again. Strange, but comforting. She dusts herself off and gets to work.

''Now to figure out what kind of mess I've ended up in. Just gotta run a scan of the surrounding area...

Within a few hundred meters it all looks natural, then it repeats. Exact copies every time, like a tiled floor. We must be in a simulated reality space. This is nothing like the tech I've found elsewhere on the planet. Now to see if I can peer outside and find out where they've got my meat-parts on ice...''

A holo-display shines onto the inside of her helmet, showing the terrain scan data. Underneath the tiles,  something resembling a network of nerves or roots spreads through the facsimile she finds herself trapped in. Following the lines to their nodes, she finds the organism hosting this simulation; and through it, a way to look into real-space. Instead of the cramped cavern she sees with simulated eyes, she instead finds a barren expanse, with glowing purple orbs jutting out from beneath the sands. She hones in on one of the rocks in the creature's field of view and runs another scan.

''Huh, interesting. Not a geological formation, but biological. Encoding DNA using the molecular structures of polymers. Suspend those polymers in liquid, and harden it into easily contained and transported rocks. Like a mosquito preserved in amber. Except I'm gonna have to put my own mosquito back together. Here's hoping those crabs didn't snip any of my wires.''

The simulation of the woman pulls out a data-pad from her bag. Somewhere, within the infinitely viscous fluid of translucent purple stone, disconnected transistors arc to life. Void cells flare open in response to the tampering. The liquid slowly coalesces back into a humanoid form, micrometer by micrometer, monomer by monomer. A's go with T's, C's go with G's. A simple matching game, trillions of times over.

''Last step has gotta be to disconnect myself from this simulation. Here's hoping that just puts me back in my body...''

Some probing around the creature's neural space and she finds the entries for everyone trapped within. A connection is quickly severed and everything goes dark. 



She stands up, shakily; now on real legs. She counts her fingers to make sure she put herself back together correctly, and double- , triple-checks the contents of her bag. Then, she gets to work freeing the others.

''First prison break's on the house. You guys better be worth the trouble, time to show me what you can do.''

Nite Owl Logbook Entry

If he hadn't up and fled onto that ship, I'd be kicked back right now, sipping coffee and watching the birds.

But here I am instead, holed up in the cargo bay of this UES scrap heap, chasing after another of Rorschach's demented obsessions. For months, he'd been snooping around their facilities. Gathering data, connecting the dots in his head to find some grand evil plot where there probably wasn't one. 

In the meantime, I was relaxing at home. Then a letter slips through my door. One with his insignia on it. He'd usually contact me by more normal means, like approaching in a dark alley and putting a knife to my back, or sending a brick through my window. That he employed such subtlety this time must mean he found something big, or at least that he thinks he did.

We meet down in the tunnels and he goes on this tirade about the UES testing matter teleportation tech, contacting alien lifeforms on their home planets, even killing them. It sounds like his usual hogwash to me. But I go along with it, because we're partners. He's saved my life too many times to count, I can't just let him go at this one alone. I tell the missus that I'll be back in a week or two, and we board the ship they're about to send off to god knows where, to uncover what's really going on.

Here's hoping this goes smoother than the other jobs where we end up working together.

Rorschach Logbook Entry

 //--AUTO TRANSCRIPT FROM UES [REDACTED], BRIG OFFICER'S INTAKE NOTES: W----- K-----, ''Rorschach''--//

We've gotta keep this guy locked up until the sun goes supernova.

''Rorschach'' was all anyone knew him by until we pulled his file. He dresses like some detective from last century, refuses to respond to his real name. Before the arrest he kept mostly to himself, barely anyone got a real read on him. He fought like a rabid dog when we tried to get the helmet off of him during the arrest. Screamed bloody murder about 'taking his face off,' and broke both the orbitals of one of our guys with his bare hands. The guy's an entire nut orchard. 

Once we had him chained up and sedated enough to speak with him, he had a full soliloquy on the UES and its 'black underbelly' prepared. I had heard him speak maybe twice the entire voyage up until his arrest, and afterwards we couldn't shut him up for a full two hours. I think he might have a grudge against us. Seems he's infiltrated the organization to try and dig up some dirt, or worse yet, sabotage the mission. 

If sabotage was his intent, he's certainly done his homework. One look at me and he was able to list off my full name, home address, and the names of 3 generations of family members. He knows what I order when I go to the burger shop. I shudder to think what kind of dirt he's got on some of the high ranking officers. 

We've got war vets, hired assassins, crazy tech wizards aboard this ship. All kinds. Rorschach is a different breed of dangerous. He's absolutely off his rocker; but there's cold, calculating malice underneath. Someone who's convinced themselves they're in the right, and that any sacrifice would be justified in achieving their goals. If it wasn't for UES brass wanting a word with him, I'd be staking my job on trying to get him airlocked instead of trying to hold him in the brig. On a mission like this, something's bound to go wrong.

And the instant something does go wrong, he's the most dangerous man aboard this ship.

//--END OF TRANSCRIPT--//