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Commanding Officer's Log 004
CMDR. Alex Rodriguez
U.T.E. Corvus
0321hrs 29 July, 2463 Earth Standard

I wish I could say that launch went according to plan. The shields worked great, but we had to reduce throttle on the port engine by 18% due to heat buildup. We still had plenty of speed to hit escape velocity, but that did take a big chunk out of our safety buffer. Starboard was running about 97% but slightly sluggish as well. So the port engine will take priority for maintenance, followed up by starboard.

Quantum travel to the local dwarf star went off without issue. Currently we are sitting in high orbit with Rose handling the skimming per regulations. I'd trust her reaction speed against a solar flare a lot more than mine. Getting incinerated or sucked into space and incinerated doesn't sound fun. Through the heavily polarized filters on the canopy, the sun does look beautiful though. You can see all sorts of swirls and curves in the flame.

Anyhow, it looks like we'll be here a touch over two more hours before we've got full primary and secondary tanks. We're also topping off the storage for the plasma cannons. Doubtful we'll need them but I can shunt that fuel into the main system if needed. While we wait, I'm going to connect my helmet's augmented reality hardware and watch the data from our accident. This'll be interesting.

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After a moment of thought, I decided to skip the interior view of the accident. Rose may enjoy making smartass cracks about me being a human ping pong ball for a few seconds, but I'd rather not see the what caused the pains I still feel. A couple taps on the console filled my vision with the swirling colors from inside the wormhole. Over that was the sensor readings from the Corvus, laying lines and texture over the swirls as it tried to map the impossible. Skipping forward to just before the chaos, I hit play. After a moment I wasn't sure what I was seeing. Even after slowing it down to a frame by frame, it just seemed impossible.

For just a heartbeat, a star was inside the wormhole. But in that tiny moment, it touched the edges of the tunnel and tore it to shreds, revealing blurred stars and realspace. It was the damn star we were orbiting now. A gesture bookmarked that moment for Rose to review a lot better than I could at least. Maybe she'd find a way home.

Through the breach we went, stuck in the pull of that baleful star for a heartbeat before physics reasserted itself. Even the sensors blurred out for a moment as we were slung through the solar system at near superluminal speeds. Rose never told me that she'd screamed my name when I'd been flung across the ship, yet even on the system logs I could hear it. I could feel her panic as a dot in the distance turned into a growing planet in our path. You can tell when an AI partitions themselves as there will be a momentary flicker in their systems. That flicker was all I needed to know when Rose sent part of herself to inhabit a frame and drag me to a crash seat. The majority of her mind was focused on not crashing, as sensor, power, and a dozen other readouts flashed over my screens.

For more than a moment, it felt like we were truly screwed before I reminded myself this had already happened. The view from the cockpit spinning as Rose spun the ship to point the tail toward the planet and ramped up the engines. Everything was redlining in the dozen seconds it took to hit the upper atmosphere. Screaming engines at full thrust and the howling of the shields filled my ears as we fell. Still fighting gravity and our speed, she managed to pull our nose into a proper angle of descent before we hit the thermal boundary and everything went dark.

It only took a fraction of a second for her to recover from the shields blowing out and power surge. Sparks were raining through the engineering space while one of her frames shielded my body with itself. Howling filled the ship as the tertiary generator was strained beyond specs but holding against the fires around us. The heat of the shields and friction of our passing lighting the air itself on fire and blinding visual sensors. It was then when I realized part of the noise was Rose. She was the ship, and she was falling. Blind and streaming flames, she still tried to save me against the odds and pain as systems seared and overheated. Yet she held for heartbeat after heartbeat.

The boundary layer helped us shed speed as the air became thicker and thicker while we fell. Most of the flames flickering and dying to reveal the glowing hues of a massively overstressed shield system that shone like a star. Every system fought the local gravity, keeping us on a good glide path, engines wailing and fighting to increase lift to keep us from hitting too hard. Long minutes passed before the view cleared to reveal mountains and forest just a few thousand feet below us. With enough speed bled away, I could see the sensors panning back and forth to find a safe landing zone before settling on a large lake.

Nearer and nearer it got until we were skimming above the water, the superheated shield leaving clouds of steam in our wake. Just before we plunged into the icy water, I only heard one thing. Rose barely whispering out loud, "I'm not leaving you."

The rest of the refueling and return trip was...quiet. Rose claimed to be busy managing the engines and preparing our small supply of beacons, but call me crazy for wondering if what I overheard was related. Dull thumping filled the ship as the airlocks cycled, opening the well secured troop bay to the abyss around us. The mistress of the ship was handling the flying to get the beacons precisely located at the first and second lagrangian points around the planet. Each one had a series of beacons thrown from the airlock to deploy in the vastness of space. The six foot long rods unfurled into a set of solar panels connected to a central hub that contained both sensors and communications gear. We set three at the L4 and L5, with two of the three beacons facing outward to scan and try to connect to something, anything UTE. The final one of the triads were pointed at the planet. At one and a half million kilometers from the planet, they would just provide communications relay and general sensor data.

Getting closer to the planet, I had to admit it was beautiful when we weren't crashing. Large oceans covered about sixty percent of the surface, with the rest being a mix of large continents, island chains, and in one particular spot, a small donut shaped continent that contained a massive sea. It was probably an ancient volcano, but it still looked neat. There was little else to do but enjoy the view as my companion handled setting the last beacons in different orbits. Soon enough we'd be back on the surface and the real work would begin.

Reentry is always nerve wracking despite being an everyday occurrence in spaceflight. The flickering flames against your shields, gravity pulling against already strained engines, or even randomly blowing a fuse. Thousands of things that could kill you in a heartbeat. On the other hand, if you pay attention, it can be incredibly beautiful and informative about where you are headed. Most of my concentration was on the landing though. The frames had completed assembly the maintenance cradle for the ship, so the last part would be an all AI landing.

Don't get me wrong, I trust Rose to do it. There's just that added stress when you think about what can go wrong. On a normal landing, you can just put your wheels down and relax. Landing on a cradle is different. The AI will hover as frames guide the landing gear to rest on reinforced pylons to keep the wheels a few inches off the ground. If the cradle isn't level or stable a lot can go wrong. With Rose piloting, there's a lot to go right though. Soft beeping filled the cockpit as the displays scrolled with altitude and vector data. I could see each of the three frames guiding a massive set of landing gear inch by inch onto the supports before settling down with a soft thud.

Every switch I flipped or button pressed, the rumbling of the ship lowered. The engines fell silent except creaks and pops of cooling metal. Humming of the grav generators slid into a soft buzz and pop before quiet. Soon all that was left was the low hum of a single shield generator on standby, whispering of the life support system, and faint roaring of the reactor fading as it went to minimal output.

"Great landing Rose. Let me know how things look later okay. I'm thinking I need a nap and then some food after all this. You know you can come up to my quarters if you need to talk."

She still wasn't talking apparently. With a sigh, I got up and dragged myself up to my cabin to strip off my armor and flop into bed. That was the most inviting thing I could think of.

Princess Luna glared at the night sky above her. The mysteries that were normally known to her were reluctant to tell her secrets today. Several new stars bloomed in the night sky, always moving. She'd tried to grasp one in her magic, yet her abilities slid right off it like nothing she'd ever encountered. It could have been the speed of the stars or how one stayed in place while two screamed across the horizons every hour, but it confounded her. She couldn't touch them, something in her very own domain. It was absolutely infuriating.

All that was forgotten as the throne room doors slammed open to reveal a panting and ragged guard. His armor and dark fur were dripping with sweat, his entire body shaking from exhaustion. A few shaking steps carried him into the room before he fell to the marble floor with a clatter. Unconsiousness was taking him by the time Luna managed to race across the room, but she still heard his whispered message.

"Monster. Southwest of Hollow Shades." Next Chapter: 07. Licking Stamps Estimated time remaining: 3 Hours, 18 Minutes