Spying on Thargoids - Logbook No. 2:
14 Dec 2024Salmonea
I’m starting to lose it. I’ve been holed up in my ship, parked in a crater, for a week now. I can’t even remember the last time I went this long without touching the controls. Oh wait, it was last year when I caught that stupid virus from the idiot I let pick me up in a bar. Ugh... I’ve only had to leave the ship three times to trek to that strange wreck. I’m following the client’s itinerary. Two hours there, almost two hours on site, and then two hours back. The initial excitement has worn off. It’s pretty boring.I’ve almost gotten used to walking on a planet inhabited by Thargoids and seeing them through binoculars. I have no idea what I’m doing here. What’s the point of this observation anyway? Every time, I plop myself down on a hill, bury myself in the dirt, and watch the Thargoids marching around the wreck, doing who-knows-what. On my first survey, I set up a discreet camera at my observation spot. After every visit, I download the footage and review it back on the ship.
These creatures don’t seem to know what boredom is. Either they’re that dedicated to their work, or they perceive time differently. I had to speed up the footage, of course. I don’t understand how they’ve been out there for a week straight. I haven’t seen them eat or, well, take care of any bodily needs. Only twice, for about 49 minutes, they seemed to just “shut down” and hibernate. Otherwise, they just keep pacing around and analyzing the wreckage.
At this point, it’s impossible to tell what the ship originally was. They’ve dismantled it into tiny pieces. I’ll endure two more days of this and then head home. I’m already feeling a strong case of cabin fever. I can’t wait to be back in my spacious cabin on the carrier, with a big bed and, I admit, some human faces and proper food.