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//POWER ?N

//INPUT >>F:LogsFrom97To.RTF

//CHECKING DATABASE FOR REQUESTED MEDIA

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--DATE: SEPTEMBER 7TH/TEN DAYS AGO.

First day aboard the O'Fennec has been an unpleasent one. Too many people gave me the cold shoulder, which is funny because I'm not the only human on this wreck. Anyways, I was told to write down my thoughts here by a friend of mine; a Doctor Haylet Shephard. Well, Shepard, here's a sum up of my thoughts of this place, I hate it and I wish I had my house back.

One of the guys on my wing is a croc who threatened to "twist me up" for no apparent reason and another is a ringtail who wouldn't stop harassing me. To make matters worse, the latter is also my dormmate. I wish I could send this to Haylet but the lemur cut off intergalatic comms in the whole wing just so he could "sleep better." Ugh. I'm writing this while he's napping, just because I work only as much as he does while he's working and when I'm here, he's here, too. And God, his timing is perfect.

I'm going to try and make my way to another wing with intergal comms enabled tomorrow so that I can send this to Dr. Shephard. Frankly, I'm not even sure if that would end up well or not. (Haylet, I hope you're reading this.)

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--DATE: SEPTEMBER 8TH/NINE DAYS AGO.

I made a friend. Mail didn't actually go through but I finally made a friend. Her name is Dakota. She's a grayish cat with a few extra pounds that shows, not to the extent where I'd call her fat, just chubby. She's an expert on foreign planets and works in the terrestrial department of the ship, and resides in wing L2 (whereas I'm stuck in R1 with some loony fuck).

Anyways, while I was trying to send my previous entry to Shephard via UltraPO, our stay was shortened because one of the "conveyers" screwed up and crashed the entire postal network on the ship, and the sixty-something year old Gazelle behind the counter taking packages of any sort shouted to the crowd that postage would be cancelled until further notice, to which Dakota, I, and several other patrons vocally exclaimed our dismay. The good news about this, however, was that the lemur actually wasn't with me in the dorms by the end of the day, as he was busy repairing comms. Speaking of the lemur, I learned from Dakota that his name is Favel.

Dakota and I talked for hours after the incident with the post office. We ate lunch together, and I learned a lot from her about her job and her crewmates in general. In turn I told her what I thought of my "friends" as well, mentioning the fact that today was only my second day of being on this ship, which she took interest.

...That image in my head, of her leaning towards me with delight, just got stuck in there while I was writing that. Quite the face she has, and those eyes are probably the most beautiful little gems I've ever saw. No, you've known me better than immediately taking heat in ladies, Doctor Shepherd, but I'm more scared of here than I was anywhere else. Furthermore, there's no other person I could trust better than her right now, yes I'm jumping to conclusions but up to this point she hasn't shown any hostility, unlike most people here, and I see that as an omen.

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--DATE: SEPTEMBER 9TH/EIGHT DAYS AGO.

Land ho! "Major" shit happened today as after three days from departing the main Soler Sect. We caught visual of a nearby habitable planet. (I swear, this FTL shit is barely noticable.) As a result of this "achievement," they held a rally in the main hall, where we were given a speech by apparently the only other human on board and then everyone got free drinks on the Corporation's budget (because NO ONE EXPECTED us to not find a planet out here).

Apparently her name is Avril, the other human's, and the entire speech was all bullshit about how the Corporate is "proud" of its "hard-working subjects" and that it wishes only "the best of things to come from this glory." Other than being absolutely full of herself, I can only deduct that she's the lead Fighter Pilot in the section of the ship that hosts our gunships because she's wearing shiny, red plated armor that matches her long, ginger hair.

The planet in question, from afar, looks very wartish in texture, has a lack of visible atmosphere but the greenery from here is lushous and remarkably wisping through the air -- as if there was wind. There are mini-mountains here and there and some lakes of water, too. Avril sent down a team to check for any hostile forces of the sort, (in other words, human canaries).

After "mistakingly" calling him "Pavel" after he told me another stupid joke, Favel and I are actually starting to get along... starting to.

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--DATE: SEPTEMBER 10TH/SEVEN DAYS AGO.

So MORE major shit happened today. It was discovered overnight that our "Planet Wart" was actually occupied, with aliens using plasma cannons mounted to those mini-mountains I mentioned earlier, and we were in a full-on war. Favel woke me up earlier than usual, insulted me, then told me that everyone was assigned new positions to help participate in this battle. I hope you haven't forgotten that I'm a Software Engineer, but I guess you have it written in those notes of yours.

I was assigned as a sentry gunner, which was stupid on their part because I seriously had no fucking idea how to operate a Mrk 32 Centaur Pod. After complaining about it via Comm, I was sent a holographic display of how to work it by Avril, and it was the simplist damn thing I've ever seen. Still, it didn't improve my working with the thing. For all I knew, I was shooting air.

Favel was apparently assigned to ground recon, and he's really good at dodging shit and being sneaky. I knew this because there was a holoscreen of a over-the-shoulder camera behind him and several other unaware soilders, this was mainly to assist everyone on knowing where everyone else was, but for me it's a distraction. Luckily I didn't commit friendly fire.

I'm not sure where Dakota went.

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--DATE: SEPTEMBER 11TH/SIX DAYS AGO.

Our little "war" lasted the whole day but only the whole day before the opposing force just stopped firing at us, but we refused to pursue them. There were no casualities on our part. I asked Favel why they cease-fired and he didn't have a clue. According to him, they just went vanished. "Poof." Their cannons were still there, though, but we didn't approach them. We didn't even touch the planet after the dogfight.

I gave myself a day off today. The Captain allowed it and that's all I needed to get my other superiors off my back, so I slept in two hours after usual and then wandered around ship.

While I was making my way to the labs to see Dakota, I bumped into Avril. She chastised me for my unfathomably poor aim on a device so simple as a sentry pod and offered basic weapon training from handguns to a bit of fighter ships that I was apparently oblidged to take since I had an accuracy rate of below 0.5% (according to me). I managed to convince her to postpone them, as I was only making my way to the sci-deck and nothing more. There was something strange about Avril from the very moment I saw her, as she scrowls even when I disobey her orders, even though I'm not part of her flight team. She would probably do better bossing Favel around but I'm not sure, though what plan of hers so eagerly involves me?

The sci-deck appeared small and overcrowded, specifically run over by women scientists, including Dakota, seperated into two rooms, then into three tables with ten people each. Vocal communication is not allowed unless absolutely nessecary so the entire deck uses holographic loggings set to a single channel to report specific findings. Most of the female crew members are either here, Medbay, or scattered elsewhere, like the gazelle at the post office, and Avril, the main star fighter pilot.

Dakota didn't expect to see me here, and I was able to watch her put a little of this and that on specific plants and watch them dazzle, sizzle, and generally react to it. Again, vocal communication being outlawed, we both had to communicate with body language, which was simple enough in a lab enviorment save for being specific. My being there apparently sparked controversy among the other scientists who I eavesdropped on when it was lunch break. They were mainly gossiping about her and I and questionable relationships. "What if?" While Dakota and I aren't seriously in love, I won't tolerate bullshit against her, as she was only doing her job and I was bored, but I couldn't approach them anyways. I could only just glare.

Dakota actually didn't take part in our little dogfight yesterday with the "aliens." She was actually in the lab -- alone -- conducting experiments and filling her head up with specific books while the other scientists were spectating it all, which is good in that it'd be embaressing for anyone to see me just shooting midair like some inexperienced monkey (which some people actually called me during lunch hour). After that she packed up and was about to leave to her dorm to find Avril trying to open the sci-deck door and kick her out, taking the lab for herself. We were both confused.

I have learned today that immediate postage has been cancelled indefinently because the ship has lost contact with the main Solsect., even though the UltraPOS has been repaired. This explicitly means that we're isolated, floating to ourselves, likely presumed dead back home.

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--DATE: SEPTEMBER 12TH/FIVE DAYS AGO.

After wrapping up the last journal entry, Favel barged in and called me to the bridge.

The reason our alien friends ceasefired was because an anomoly started growing from the ground up since the day we fought there and we only now just found out only because there's a big patch of it visible from space. It's a lighter greenish in color and appears to lash out to the stars, viewing it from the distance. It looks like a field of grass turning into bile (which isn't a pleasent sight, believe me).

Dakota, who was also there with me, didn't take long to realize that the anomoly was a type of modified grass that was specifically made in our sci-decks -- where Dakota worked, and that such flora isn't suppost to be on that planet, or else. We all turned to Avril, who lead the assault on there against hostile forces.

"Now now, if everyone could stay calm, we will not be rash here," she pleaded, "We will find who is responsible." Neither Dakota nor I asked why she was at the sci-deck after the assault. Perhaps we didn't need to. Dakota neglected to mention that after the occurance with Avril, her superiors ordered everyone the next day to not use Silo D26, an order they didn't care about because they never had to use the silos since day one, anyways. Being that this was a two man operation, I had to join Dakota in her quest to find the truth, wearing hazard suits and being super sneaky while an emergency counsil is being held as the ship steers clear of the infected planet.

Cracking open the doors to the Silo, we found some odd things: an Rusomium isotope, several pots filled with native/alien hybrids, and a granola bar. None of them belong there (especially that last one). Our plan now is that Dakota and I are to barge in the conference room to reveal forbidden materials on the ship and how Avril got them there. Dakota is preparing our evidence right now as I write this. Wish us luck,

Jack out.

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--DATE: CONNECTION LOST/UNSPECIFIED

AVRIL IS A TRAITOR, I REPEAT: AVRIL IS A TRAITOR! A SECRET AGENT UNDER THE GUISE OF A CORPORATE OFFICER JUST SO SHE COULD PULL US INTO HER SUICIDE MISSION!

Oh God! Oh God! Shit hit the fan! Avril's dead -- shot herself in the head. We're crash landing! Oxygen is depleting! Ship's exploding! Where's the Captain when you need him! Everyone's running, WHAT!? WHAT DID THE INTERCOMM JUST SAY!? Oh God. Oh God. I have to go. Now. Right now.

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--DATE: SEPTEMBER 15TH/TWO DAYS AGO.

Status report of the GSS Ol'Fennec by Team Sicily.

Error Code: 0x000150H

We are writing this in a journal scavanged in the wreckage. We cannot identify it's owner.

The ship crash landed on Planet Kebler, five hundred and twenty two miles away from ?ortez. The engine is torn out, most of the insides are melted, and there is no chance of repair. This ship is totalled.

6,504 known casualities and only one known survivor which will be refered to as Codename 15 from here on. Codename 15 was found laying facedown near-dead behind a metal fence some 800 meters northwest of the crash site. No dog tags were found on him.

We have sent him to SaturnBASE via package for psychological analysis. Will keep digging for survivors.

Over and Out.

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