by Anonymous
3-12-2103 14:52
I am in absolute agony.
The fungus, if it can even be called that, managed to spread through our entire craft. Any flora present in the area took over within the span of a month, overriding the system and embedding into the ship walls. The central powerline has been cut, and the backup generators will only last an estimated two more days. I wasn’t able to get the ignition to turn in the escape shuttle. Even if I did, the vessel appears to have taken root in the ground, effectively planting it.
From what data I have gathered, botanical structures on Kepler-398 f react to metals. The plants in the area are attracted to the metal, where they will gather nutrients provided by it to sustain itself. It will not cease this behavior until all the metal in a given object has been depleted. Since around a week ago, the ship has planted itself in the ground and begun to blossom. The rest of the crew is gone. Most of them have been gone for a little while.
I spoke with Hendrick approximately an hour ago before he became completely unresponsive. I don’t believe I can even call them dead. They are very much alive, which makes this experience worse. Karl and Benson are fused into the wall in corridor B. Matthews is hanging from the ceiling in the central hub. Captain Davis ventured out further into Kepler 398 f to investigate the whistling we began to hear two weeks ago after landing, but he hasn’t returned in four days.
I can no longer leave the chair in my lab. My head refuses to turn in any direction. It strains my arms and fingers to type this entry right now. I can barely breathe naturally, but I hardly feel as if I have to. My veins have been nearly compromised, and I’m being eaten from the inside.
Our mission here was to find a self-sustainable environment, and I am devastated to report it was a complete success.
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