Twenty-Sixth Entry

March 8^th, 2037

0555

Dear Space Diary.

NASA would tell me that this is an amazing and historic moment, except I don’t think any of them will have woken up yet.

I won’t be doing any exploring yet. All that’s on the plan today is amazing and historic roadside maintenance. If I can turn the ship the right way up I will be able to travel around the planet. More importantly, it will also hopefully mean I can go to sleep without being perched at an odd angle.

0815

NASA apparently have a different view on those priorities than I do. They made me promise I would at least grab a quick sample of the rock next to my ship so the scanner can analyse it.

I didn’t even know this thing had a scanner. Why on Earth would a prototype have a scanner?

0845

NASA like to be prepared for every eventuality.

Every eventuality except being unable to turn off the ftl engine and crash landing on an alien planet.

0920

NASA admit they didn’t see that one coming.

0930

NASA are ready and mostly awake now, so I guess it’s time to do this.

I’ve got a maximum of an hour breathing the air out there, but practically speaking I want to be back inside in about 30 minutes; otherwise I’m going to spend the next 48 hours feeling pretty sick while the more toxic parts of the atmosphere work their way through my system. Unlikely to die though, so there’s that.

0940

Ok, here we go. Doors opening… NOW.

0945

I’m here. I’m standing on the surface. No one has ever stood here before. No one has ever breathed this air.

It smells like turnip.

Rock is very crumbly underfoot, feels quite rubbery to the touch.

Note to self, wash hands afterwards.

Okay, 25 minutes on the clock, let’s do this.

0948

The ship is wedged in pretty good; it dug a small furrow for itself when it landed. Can’t just roll it out, going to need to do some digging.

0955

Rock damn easy to move. This’ll be a doddle.

1005

Mind you there is a lot of it.

Ship nearly clear, but I’m running out of time.

1009

Think that’s enough clear. Let’s give this a shot.

1011

Come on, you stupid thing. You’ve travelled light years; you can bloody well move another 5 metres.

1013

Done! It’s upright. Ok, time to head inside.

Hang on, what’s that?

1014

There’s some kind of bright light over there. Flashing at me.

1015

BEEP

Forget it, no time; I have to get inside now.

1020

Back in, being decontaminated.

I can’t see the light anymore. Must have been a reflection. Still, I wonder what it was reflecting off. I’ll have to check it later. Can’t go out for at least 6 hours though, need to get the toxins out.

Still, all in all that was a success. Should tell NASA.

1100

Blast. Forgot the bloody rock sample.