Logbook entry

Duty, 18: Lookouts

04 Dec 2022Meowers


So, I remember, just yesterday I've been sitting in the mess, pretending to be a social creature, and theoretising about the odd situation we have on our hands. I've said that not having our sorry arses bombed to dust doesn't mean the Thargoids aren't active somewhere out there, and that was obvious. We have a network of relays and passive surveillance equipment in this and neighbouring systems, and all those devices are sending short transmissions from time to time, so we know at least their approximate numbers and are able to receive distress calls. And what we've got? Instead of sporadic appearances here and there, they've been almost silent for a while... and then beaten the shit out of Feds. So, are they determined to destroy places where people gather?

I'd hate to be right about that, even given all the preparations we've made. Anyway, we had some work to do. One of those sensors, namely one in the Hyades Sector, uh... ZY-X A2-0 system, didn't send anything yesterday and we had to investigate, my wing was ordered to escort one of our T-10's with a team of techs and some spare parts onboard. Sounds quite basic. Techs will inspect the thing and decide whether or not they can repair it right there, in space, and we will hang around with our guns armed and ready.

My hangar welcomed me with a fresh 'murderer' graffiti, because, apparently, those xeno-loving pacifists have nothing to do all day rather than screwing around and listening to whoever their ideology leaders are. And I'm sure as hell their 'luminaries' are sitting in the thick of inhabited and guarded places and spreading their bullshit from cosy chairs.

Idiots.

Yep, having to protect Thargoid lovers as well is making me a bit upset. But... As if I have any other choice. So, I went to another hangar to help our techs with T-10 preparations, to keep my mind focused on something worthwile. And, when everything was ready, we took off and headed to that Hyades-Sector-whatever.

And, yep, there we go. Totally worthless nameless system without any stations or anything else, and our Thargoid-tracking sensor in it. Or, to be more correct, our sensor and a lone Cyclops flying circles around it. Hell knows how long it have been there, however, I guess now I know what 'oh shit' sounds like in Thargoid language. We dropped from cruise mode and opened fire, the bastard twitched and tried to run, panicky sending a few shots, miles away from any of us, and a massive pain in the arse was the last thing it remembered.

However... Something felt unusually odd here. Our sensor looked almost intact, no greenish clouds, no debris scattered around, nothing like that. You know, they like to tear down everything they see and then cover it with their vomit. So... Not in this case. I told my pilots to approach carefully, and techs to inspect that thing visually first, before going EVA, it looked like that Cyclops just... spat on it, making a few holes. Like, it was trying to lure us or something.

After a few circles around the sensor, techs reported minimal visible damage, everything should be reparable within a couple of hours, and I had to decide what to do next. And... I think it's better to look a bit goofy than to fall straight into a trap. Or whatever it was. If it's looking odd, then we will act odd. So I told my pilots to form a square, six by six kilometres, with me on one of its corners, around the sensor, and T-10 should float close to it, imitating the repairs. With everyone still onboard. Timer on, two hours. Sit and watch.

I know they leave those hazy trails when they move... Any distortion could've been exactly what we're looking for. Any weird sound should've been their jumping anomaly. And I know Marshmallow's sounds better than my own voice.

Nothing.

Hour, still nothing.

Hour and a half. My eyes start to dry and hurt, I swear I look at those stars around me so hard that they start to flicker. But still nothing. No visual contacts, nothing on the sensors.

Where are you, arseholes? Come and get some, stop hiding, there are only five of us...

No, that's not funny anymore.

So, bloody nothing on our sensors and no visual. With my fingers crossed, I commanded our techs to start working, and pilots to keep their eyes still open wide, and that's how we spent another two hours. Looking at the stars trying not to blink. Comparing our sensor readings. Spreading wider and then returning back. Swapping positions. Requesting reports from techs just to make sure they're okay and we didn't get anything crawling behind us. Damn my trigger finger was itchy, I tell you, if I saw a Thargoid there, I'd probably incinerate it with my eyes.

I was expecting an ambush on our way in. A surprise attack. A shitload of Thargoids waiting for us here, a distress call from somewhere else, an emergency message from some ship, a bunch of Thargoid-loving fanatics yelling and shooting at us, even imagined Thargoids trying to 'infect' our sensor, filling it with their greenish goo. Nope. Just that one unlucky Cyclops, whose parts will probably fall onto a star or leave the system in a few decades. And it all made me think that we, pilots, were actually more exhausted by that strain than techs who had to work with the thing.

And our way back wasn't that much fascinating as well. At least, a bit more relaxing. Hello, hangar, hello, graffiti, hello, report form. Anyway, whatever it was, it has to be analysed somehow. Not your usual Thargoid behaviour. So I told my folks to download their flight logs, sensor logs, any other automated recordings and I'll attach it to the report then. Maybe there's something that naked eye can't see... Heard an interesting assumption from Christine, she said they must've been trying to figure out who's the owner of those devices. How heavily they are guarded, and what will happen if they destroy one. That's smart, actually, however... Isn't that too smart for Thargoids? I don't know, honestly. I'll send my report with all the comments on this.

And I guess I'll call Mion then. Caught myself thinking about what she might be doing, hah.
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