ENTRY 005
SURVIVAL LOG
BEGIN DICTATION:
When I found the smoking mess of my ship, I told myself I would fix her, or die trying. I nearly kept the second part of that promise on my second Sol here.
The ship's self-repair routine was walking me through the steps to fix the drive systems, so I was looking for ferrite dust (iron in my previous reality). I found some large green discs littering the ground around my crash site that my analyzer told me would fit the bill, and started working away with my mining beam. It wasn't long before I'd exhausted that supply, so I set out over the ridge surrounding my little vale here to find more ferrite. Sure enough, the discs were everywhere, so I began mining them in earnest. That didn't last long.
My HUD gave me an odd warning - a curved white line on the left side of my display. I glanced over and saw what appeared to be a sentinel hovering near me. I didn't give it much thought. Sentinels were ubiquitous across the galaxy before the ... event ... that landed me here. Many theories have been advanced about their origin, but they seem mainly to protect planet environments. I've had some less-than-pleasant encounters with them in the field, but never anything I couldn't handle.
That has changed. When I resumed mining, the sentinel was quickly overhead. I could sense its scan - and then see its display turn red and hostile.
It opened fire immediately and began stripping away my exosuit shields. I tried to run, but it pursued and I finally had to turn and fight. My mining beam did consistent damage, but not as much as I remembered from previous encounters. By the time I took it out, the sentinel had reduced my shield to virtually nothing ... and it had called in reinforcements.
Two sentinel drones sped towards me, and I confess I panicked. I ran and used my jetpack with no regard for where I was headed. I found a grove of towering fungi, and hid as best I could. My sensors, somehow, could pick up enough of the sentinel communication band to know they were searching for me. Within seconds, succeeded.
My shield had regenerated some, but the sentinels began quickly blasting it away. Again I fled, with shots hitting me again and again. Within seconds, my shield was down , and the next few hits drew blood and pain.
I dove into one of the craters that cover this plain, and cowered behind a boulder. I prayed to the Maker, and counted the seconds as my sensors updated the sentinels' search. I could hear the infernal buzz of their engines as they criss-crossed the terrain, and after what seemed like an eternity, my sensors picked up no more of their chatter.
Still frozen by fear, I barely breathed until my shields had reached full strength again. Then, I poked my head up and scrambled out of my hole, keeping my head on a swivel to search for more drones as I made my way back towards my ship.
My scanner told me what I'd guessed: my flight had taken me further from my ship than I'd intended, and I worried that my hazard protection would give out before I arrived. I cursed at my lack of planning, and vowed to build a supply of sodium to power the system - if only I could get home now.
I ran until my strength gave out, and then I slowed to a labored trudge. With my power dwindling - and the suit's metallic voice reminding me of that every few seconds - I finally crested the ridge that hid my ship.
I entered the cockpit with a feeling of profound relief, gasping from exertion. At that moment I decided to rename my ship: Varek's Refuge. With each passing moment on this world, I grow more certain that a refuge is paramount.
This "new" universe is deadlier than I could even imagine.
END DICTATION
The plain where I nearly met my end, hounded by sentinel drones.