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Captain’s Log, Quota 3, Day 3/4
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The crew chose to land on March. The moon was a landscape we were all too familiar with and it wasn’t suffering from any of the anomalies plaguing the other moons at this time. It’s my responsibility to man the monitors as the rest of my crew makes their way into the complex. Up until 2 pm there’s nothing of note as they make quick work of all the nearby rooms (if only my log ended here). One of them decides to head back, as confirmed over radio, to take scrap to the ship as I continue keeping a watchful eye over the two remaining members heading deeper still into the complex. Not long after, they come to a stairwell face-to-face with a “coil-head”, blocking their route up the stairs, and warning them that a red dot is approaching them from behind. I implore them to identify the malevolent presence and, in ignorant bliss, am informed that, “it’s just a cute box with legs walking towards us”. I enter a state of shock, as I know what that “thing” is capable of, and, without hesitation, warn them to make their way to the entrance immediately. Unfortunately my pleading falls on deaf ears as they struggle to path back, whilst keeping an eye on the coil-head, and I hear that damned music as they speak to me over radio. (*30 seconds later) All comms inside the complex are lost and my last crew mate is making his final scrap run. We take inventory and realize, to our dismay, we’re still short on our quota and need to steal the beehive near our ship in order to avoid certain termination. My crew mate bravely volunteers to distract the “circuit bees” as I sneak the hive onto the ship. “Ready, Set, GO!”, was the last I heard of them as the bees chased them off into the distance. I can only remember, to my horror, the scent of a charred corpse wafting through the air as I closed the airlock doors. As I initiate takeoff, I’m left to brood over the death of my crew, their individual yet inconsequential sacrifices, contracted to a faceless corporation who would no sooner replace them than make time for memorial.

This log is my memorial to them.

I fear I will not see the end of my next quota as I count everyday alive a miracle. Hopefully I’m the last to die in vain, but I know such a wish is a fool’s errand.
Captain out.