Day One

Rene Oliver

We are well and truly fucked. I don’t know what, exactly, I woke up to, but I know it’s bad. Only four of us are left. Me and Zephyr, and two of the prisoners - a Rubber-Suited Monster designated “Cambrian”, and a human named David. To set the scene briefly, our ship appears to have crashed - though somehow we’ve landed inside of a cave without dealing any noticeable damage to its ceiling. Thankfully we have retained power, so we still have full access to food replicators, lighting, and our computer systems. And our weapons, too. Haven’t seen much of the wildlife down here but so far it’s looking pretty intimidating - and that’s coming from a man who’s stood in opposition to, and, for various complicated political reasons, worked alongside, some of the universe’s greatest evils.
Planning to do more in the way of exploration soon enough, but for now here’s what we know: there aren’t any signs of connections to the planet’s surface, and the only light outside of our ship comes from bioluminescent mushrooms. Zephyr says some of the mushrooms remind him of his homeworld, but I’m guessing that’s just a coincidence. Still, you never know. Apparently the Vyrolikars used to own a pretty significant chunk of the cosmos, so maybe this is an old colony of theirs. Or maybe Zephyr’s just thinking of home.


Zephyr

Zephyr’s not my real name. I was born as Zyphrac. But the humans refer to me as Zephyr, and so I will as well within this journal to avoid any confusion. This problem has an incredibly simple solution - humans should be made to learn the languages of any alien crewmates. Even Rene, a man with a real interest in my culture, knows very little of my language. I, meanwhile, am fluent in English. The Kingdom made damn sure of that when I signed up, of course. Even though I had been living in English-speaking parts of the universe for thirty years prior to my enlistment.
Though I suppose the humans cannot be blamed entirely for not knowing of my language. Our species have a rough history, and mine has favored isolationism for the better part of a millennium now - especially following the devastating Milky Way Revolutions, which sunk the only galaxy our culture exists within into a state of tyrannical anarchy from which any information is difficult to obtain. The existence of a Vyrolikar in the Kingdom military is a fluke of the highest degree, especially in this era of our history.
That is, in part, why I am here. To prove my culture is more than just a bunch of isolationist savages living amongst the bombed-out ruins of a greater culture. I wish to show the world that some of us are progressive enough to understand that the Kingdom is the future, and that any being who wishes to outlive Astyajarel is best off submitting to the power of the Twin Monarchs.
But enough about me. You are not here to read my opinions on politics or history, and you almost certainly give little regard to the pathetic, dying husk that is Vyrolikar culture. If you are reading this, you almost certainly only care about one thing - the time I spent in these caves. Given the presence of mushrooms that I believe are indigenous to Su-Kalus, I think this might be a former colony world from our Golden Era, and as such my story may intertwine with the story of my people’s culture once again. Apologies in advance if that does occur.
Anyway, I suppose I should begin to describe today’s most interesting occurrence. One of the two surviving prisoners, David, was presumed to be dead after we found him dead in his cell. But not an hour after that fact, he entered the ship’s recreation room and simply asked us what he missed “while he was out”.
I don’t trust that man. Never much cared for the idea of immortality, and I hate it even more when it is smiling gleefully in my face. David is, allegedly, an ex-military prisoner! He was set to be executed once he left this ship! Why is he such a happy guy? I fucking hate that. Bet it’s a facade. Bet he’s got some awful scheme up his sleeve. I have got my eyes on him.


The Cambrian

Hey. Guess we’re keeping journals now. Not sure why the captain wants us to do this. Not a good writer but I’ll do my best to keep a few notes. This place seems interesting and I’m glad to be alive. Definitely got some things I wanna say.
Guess I’ll introduce myself first. I’m the Cambrian. I’m what’s known as a Rubber-Suited Monster. We’re soldiers who’ve been engineered to withstand harsh environments, and we look like men in cheap rubber suits because some jack-ass scientist had a sick sense of humor. My species is a living joke, but we do our jobs well anyways. Or, in my case, I used to. I was being taken to be ‘decommissioned’ when the ship crashed, and I know Dave was too. He seems glad to be here. Looks like he died again in the crash, though. Shame. I dunno how many times he can do that.
This planet seems nice. Gonna go out on a walk later. Might invite Dave if he’s feeling up to it.


David

Captain’s making us keep journals. I’m not gonna write in mine much, and I’ll start this off by explaining why. You might not believe me, but it’s true. I have trillions of people living inside of my head. All of us are named David. Thank-fully, we have rules - the Dave Protocols - that prevent things from getting too chaotic in here. For instance, Dave Protocol #1 dictates that only one “Prime Dave” is allowed control of our body at any time. We switch and generate a new body when the Prime Dave’s body dies. That’s how we got involved in the military, of course. An immortal soldier was too good to pass up.
But we didn’t work as soldiers for the same reason I can’t write for very long - because there’s always somebody in here who just REFUSES TO STOP TALKING. So now the Davetrooper project is being ‘retired’. Or at least, it would have been, if our ship hadn’t crashed.
Wonder how the Kingdom planned to kill us. Only one of us can exist at once… did they really plan on killing trillions of people one at a time? God, that’s too funny.



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