Site Survey B-01
"Our Cruiser-class Hercules reached the surface of this morbidly obese planet with the grace of a Fatboy kicked off a cliff by a Karganeth, stuck the landing with extra points for awkwardness and an impressive crumple zone. It took my whole talent and full-on supervision by my All-Father Shard to land this vessel, still, now and for the foreseeable future it has become an inseparable part of the landscape. According to Koan and Suther, I won't be able to utter the words "All systems nominal" for several weeks. And even if I did, they would have to fix the radio first or I can just talk to a hand. And even if they fixed it right away, I would first need to get up and walk a couple meters. For now that is quite unlikely, I feel like my brain tries to carve a backdoor in my skull to flee and make room for the ocular unit.
I am currently prone. To stand for more than six minutes is to invite the structural failure of my own femurs, or so says the Doc. Plus, I can feel my liver boring down into my pelvis when I do that, so for now I don't. I observe the green sky and realize it is not merely a color here, it is a weight. It presses against the ocular sensors with physical malice. From what I understand, it's the result of a billion years of ultraviolet radiation igniting the atmosphere, too thick to breathe and too heavy to flee.
Doc Shaffer says it will take him the rest of the day to scroll through what limited archive we have here without the connection to Heliand Registry, but he seems to at least understand what he is searching for. He said we need extensive support and adhering to a precise MO for every crew member not to reach terminal state within two days. I believe him. Despite the breathable atmosphere I feel like I'm underwater. I hope he'll allow us to start the search soon, I have no idea where our cargo went."

