The Sprague Diaries

[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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