Day 1: Landing

This is a dark and smelly planet.

Nothing in the advance team's report matches what we have encountered. We were surprised to experience such a soft landing, but we have made little progress since then. We are unable to leave our craft, as our sensors detect a very toxic and viscous atmosphere outside, again completely inconsistent with what our advance team told us to expect. The atmosphere is extremely warm, and we are detecting over 80% moisture. It is also heavy in ammonia nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium. In addition to the chemical toxicity, the atmosphere outside is so unbelievably thick, the only way to venture out would be to tunnel our way through it. Although we are dubious of finding advanced life forms thriving in such conditions, there does appear to be an abundance of microbial life.

But the most striking thing we've observed is that it just... smells... bad.

We are certain that the environmental suits will not be sufficient for extra-vessel exploration. Even setting aside the noxious odor, which already permeates our vessel just from our small test sample, we are certain that upon return from any sortie, we would be covered in the stuff. And that's assuming we could get our outward-swinging hatch open against the extreme pressures that press inward on our craft. (Memo to engineers: who's brilliant idea was that, anyway? Never heard of a sliding door?) Once outside, it is doubtful that sufficient light would permeate the gelatinous atmosphere to allow any observations about this planet. For the same reason, artificial light would be equally useless, which is no big deal, actually, since even considering the temporal distortion that occurs with faster-than-light travel, the batteries in our portable light projectors are way past their expiration date.

We have also detected disturbing vibrations, some quake-like in magnitude, others appearing to be low-frequency acoustic in origin. As we have no defenses which we can be certain will operate in this atmosphere, we have decided for now to stay inside the craft and try to figure out how we are going to get out of here. We are uncertain that we will even be able to get this transmission to you through the goop that encases this planet, but if nothing else, we feel the need to document our findings for posterity. Our only hope now may be if some intelligent life form compatible with this planet's conditions will befriend us, and lend assistance in launching us back into space. We have provisions to last us for a little while, but since our advance team had assured us that there was at least a breathable atmosphere here, we were not prepared for an extended period of self-containment after landing. If we make it out of here, we will recommend that future expeditions contain at least one member of the advance team, so as to inspire more accuracy in their analysis.

We pledge our all to the almighty galactic empire of Gravnek Prime, and to her wise and benevolent leader! May we live to die (eventually) in her glorious service!

Day 2: Light

We have some hope now of surviving our expedition. While we slept, there was a shift in the meteorologic conditions, resulting in significant precipitation. It appears that this might be a cyclical pattern: thickening atmosphere, to the point of suffocation, followed by precipitation which clears the air sufficiently to allow light to permeate the upper levels. The conditions outside appear to have improved to the point that we would be able to move around, were it not for our exit hatch still being buried in the more noxious substance still surrounding the lower level of our craft.

Our atmospheric analysis has shifted slightly, as well. Our new samples, although nearly as offensively odoriferous as earlier, contain increased levels of oxygen, and even hints of chlorophyll. What concerns us, though, is the continued low frequency vibrations that appear on our instruments. Some of them are in fact detectable without instruments, feeling like a minor quake. Others are clearly audible. The nearest cuneiform equivalent would be something like - we know this sounds ludicrous, but - something like: "Moooooooo." The quake-like vibrations have come frighteningly close to our craft, while the sound waves seem to be farther away. We have activated our deflector, and our holocover, so that we appear to be nothing more than a chunk of their native igneous matter.

Again, the advance team has a lot to answer for.

We pledge our all to the almighty galactic empire of Gravnek Prime, and to her wise and benevolent leader! May we live to die in her glorious service!