Captain log 303:

Today marks the 300^th day since we saw anything. We head into uncharted space—no known planets or stars. The morale is good still. I knew hiring a good cook would be worth it. My Lieutenant has put in a request for a video Transmission with his wife. They were expecting when we left. The Lieutenant is a good man. I wish them good health—nothing else to report.

Captain log 304:

Today our surveillance noticed a meteor. It’s heading in the same direction we are. It’s 2.5 miles long, shaped like a kidney bean. I’ve taken the proper actions to prepare for landing in the next couple of days. I will wait on the video transmission for the Lieutenant after we have explored this meteor. I can’t help feeling a kinship with this long-lost meteor—nothing else to report

Captain log 305:

Today we landed on the meteor. It was quicker than we had expected. There were many proper landing zones. Tomorrow I will send a drill team or two out to find out if it has any valuable resources—nothing else to report.

Captain log 306:

Today was a good day. I sent a drill team to the north and one to the south. The northern team has already returned with excellent samples. They show a large deposit of platinum. The crew is ecstatic. I’ll send them out again with the giant drill to get a better picture of the haul. The southern drill team radioed in this evening, saying they will be back in 8 hours. They must be having a less exciting time—nothing else to report

Captain log 307:

Today the southern team returned; they reported breaking the surface and finding a cavern. The team sent a drone inside. The footage clearly shows an old republic mining rig. I think it unlikely we would have no reports of this platinum meteor. I suspect the crew might have died before contacting home. The northern drill team returns to their wholes today. Suppose their first report is correct. We will attach some course correctors and send the meteor homebound. Ill head an expedition tomorrow into the southern cavern—nothing else to report.

Captain Log 308:

I am Lieutenant Alexander Morrow. I’m not sure how the Captain formats these. So, to keep it brief. The Captain has not returned. The last communication received stated that the republic miner crew had indeed been dead a long time. The northern drill team confirmed their first report. Tomorrow if the Captain hasn’t returned, I will order course correctors to be placed and launched—nothing else to report.

Captain log 309:

Lieutenant Alexander Morrow, reporting again. The northern team left after breakfast, course correctors in tow. The Captain is yet to return. I will lead a second expedition to the south—nothing else to report.

Captain log 310:

-blank-

Captain log 311:

I am James Anderson, the cook. Everyone is dead in the southern cavern. The crew that are left are panicking. The remaining crew have asked me to lead. I’ve sent word to the northern camp that we must extract. Lieutenant Morrow last communication reads, “The Captain is dead; I will surely succumb to the sickness shortly. Abandon the meteor.”  I will wait for the northern drill team. We will keep them in quarantine for the journey home—nothing else to report.

Captain Log 312:

James Anderson, again. The northern team has not responded. I fear they may be dead. The ‘sickness’ mentioned by the Lieutenant might have spread. I have decided to seal the ship. I hope their families can forgive me for leaving them this far out. We go in 15 minutes—nothing else to report.

Captain Log 320:

Anderson. The course correctors activated on the meteor. The northern drill team had finished setting them up. The course correctors need to be manually activated. Both expeditions encountered a ‘sickness,’ and the northern drill team held no rations. I think it unlikely anyone is still alive on the meteor. These conflicting statements have led to wild speculation. I have been a crew cook for forty years. I have heard rumours about how the old Republic fell. They say a plague wiped out half the population. Those dead people came back focused on the destruction of the Republic. Speculation, of course. We will hurry home—nothing else to report.

Captain log 330:

The meteor is on track to catch us. We have two days till the impact. Its movement is unnatural. I have sent an SOS. We are so far out—nothing else to report.

Captain log 332:

Our distress transmissions have received. The closest rescue capable vessel is over 25 days away. The crew have come to a unanimous decision on their fate. We have chosen to self-destruct before the meteor arrives. With heavy hearts, we say goodbye. We will send the previous month of logs as evidence. If you are reading this, I’m sorry.

You must stop the meteor.

Signing off,

James Anderson and the crew of Atropos III.