The Knight Logs

The Knight Logs: 0

This is Bruce Knight, pilot of the Essex Fifth. It's been three months since my last voyage. It was mostly a peaceful mission, and I hope this one will be the same, though with a bit less shooting. Next week I embark for the planet Botana, a remote world full of lush plant life. While full of vast, clear oceans, endless fields, vallies, forests, and the cleanest oxygen imaginable, no life has developed. Or rather no humanoid or animal life. It's a marvel in every sense of the word, and many scientists have never seen a greater gem come from the universe. Environmental agencies have kept the planet preserved and uninhabited, but since the Essex doesn't run on crude fuel and I'm technically doing freelance scientific work, they've allowed me an extended stay on Botana.

I'm excited to take an up-close look at its beauty, and the samples I take should fetch a pretty penny, but even still, something has been bothering me lately. I don't know, maybe it's this family, this life I've become a part of. I mean, Grandma Clara has taken down warlords, and dad served with a star fleet for years. I've never done anything similar but I... I'm happy. Regardless of family history exploring is my passion, it's my job, I enjoy it. A lot. Ultimately I know they would be proud but, I don't know. Some days I just wish I could be half of what they were. I'm gonna do another equipment check tonight before I go to sleep, hopefully, it'll ease my mind. Here's hoping everything goes as planned next week. This is Bruce Knight signing off.

The Knight Logs: 1

This is Bruce Knight, pilot of the Essex Fifth. The ship and I are in orbit over Botana, and in five hours we'll be touching the surface. I've done some general observations via satelite scans, and it's almost too beautiful to be real. From a topographical view the landscapes are so colorful and diverse; it's a complete wonder that this place exists undisturbed. I haven't been this eager to start an exploration since I went to the ruins of Cordle, but even still there's something more interesting about a miracle of nature than the bones of a lost kingdom. The biodiversity is astounding; I'm not an outdoors guy but I can't deny a beautiful landscape when I see one, and my God do these landscapes look beautiful.

Anyways, I'm expecting nothing but sunshine and rainbows once I land. I'm gonna eat before its time for landing, probably start on that crossword book I bought too. I made a pot of space mac n cheese earlier and I cannot wait to dig into it. Well, it isn't necessarily "space" mac n cheese but I made it on the ship and I'm eating it in space and it's...it... I don't know I'm just being goofy. This is Bruce Knight signing off.

The Knight Logs: 2

This is Bruce Knight, pilot of the Essex Fifth. There has to be some kind of scientific term to quantify this Botana's beauty, but for now all I can say is holy shit. It's only been a week and not only have the samples I've gathered been astounding, the landscape of this planet is absolutely spellbinding. I'm going to try and describe the two areas I've encountered so that maybe the appreciation I feel can be properly expressed. I've never been known for my poeticism, and I'm not even sure if that's a word, but I'll try my best to capture their essence here.

The first location I found was a large, circular field of shrubbery, with a massive tree standing in the center of it. It reminded me immediately the World Tree from Norse Mythology, with its giant branches stretching out in every direction, and its trunk twisting upward into the sky. I landed the Essex next to this area, and spent two days and three nights observing it. It seems as though the shrubs depend on the tree for nutrients and other forms of sustenance. Likewise, the tree receives some of it's nutrients from the crowd of bushes around it. Excavation and x-ray aren't allowed here, but I could imagine that all their roots twist and turn into each other, like a church assembly joined in prayer. It must've rained before I landed; I could see the dew drops sitting on the tree, each one shinning in the brilliance of the morning sun. The leaves not only catch water for the tree, their shape allows the water to slide and fall onto the bushes. In similar fashion, there are openings in the canopy for sunlight to come through and shine directly onto the bushes, and in turn the bushes grow most abundant in these patches of light. When leaves fall and decay, the bushes use them to gain more nutrients and grow bigger. The tree seems much older than the shrubs, and a lot more worn too. It's almost as if the two forms of life have a familial bond, and make sure that in their own survival they take care of the other. It's sweet really, as if the shrubs were children looking up to a wise old elder, trying to repay its love. It's sweet really, reminds me of when I would go to Grandma Clara's and help her cook and clean over the weekend.

The other location I came across was a diverse field of flowers, their colors streaking across the landscape like a sprawled out rainbow. The mix of scents was a lot to take in; it was familiar for a moment, but then I couldn't help but try and single out what I couldn't place. While the flowers were beautiful (I carefully picked a few to take home) the main thing that drove me to study the field were the spires. These tall, blue, fuzzy columns spurt out yellow pollen, and they fall slowly onto the flowers in these beautiful misty sheets. They were about five times my height, and their spray reached for at least two miles. I thought I was crazy at first, but all the flowers actually turned toward the sky and moved around to catch the pollen as it fell. I sat in the field for a minute, enjoying their company, and laughing at how wholesome everything here has turned out to be. I feel like I'm in a children's book or something right now. It's more than just a biosphere, Botana appears to be a community, one that functions in groups and units rather than individually like other planets flora. I've only been here for a week, but this planet has proved itself to be truly spectacular.

In other news, Lauren packed a chocolate bar in the one of the pockets of my suit. She always leaves little notes and treats for me before trips; best sister someone could ask for. I wish I could show her these places in person rather than the photographs I send home, but she prefers to keep her feet on the ground. I still remember when dad told her about the Fate Of The Essex Second. Great Grandpa Devon ended up fine but it sure gave Lauren a hell of a scare. Even now she tells me every time I depart "Stay as far from black holes as possible" as if that isn't common sense already. As much as I tease her though, some days I wish could be like her. I wish I could be satisfied keeping my feet on the ground, working with my hands, not chasing after a reality based in anxiety. I gotta ask her how she does it when I get home. Man this chocolate bar is good, I gotta get more of these at home too. This is Bruce Knight signing off.

The Knight Logs: 3

This is Bruce Knight, pilot of the Essex Fifth. This weeks area is a bit more tame, though just as astounding. I took the Essex away from the flower field and the tree among shrubs, and went east. After about a day of travel over a dense forest with a white canopy, I've found a valley of rolling hills, with a large flowing river cutting between it. Giant mushrooms populate the area, their tops either round and red, or flat and light brown. The mushrooms are about twice my height, offer great shade, and honestly smell pretty pleasant. The grass here is red all around, and its texture is soft yet firm. The river is about half a mile wide, and longer than I can measure from the ground. Its water is so clear it sparkled in the midday sun, and against my better judgement I almost too off my helmet to drink from it.

This valley is so scenic; it feels like I'm standing in a painting rather than somewhere real. The hills rise and fall, moving in and out of one another like waves. The grass dances softly in the wind like flames, and in the breeze I swear I can hear a sort of music. The wind back home only whistles and howls, but here I can hear melodies and tones, like a symphony of tranquility. I couldn't get a good sample of the mushrooms without damaging them, so I took some swabs and pictures instead. Laura loves Alice's Adventures In Wonderland, so I'm hoping she gets a kick out of this one. I spent my time this past week walking along the river, hoping that there would be some body of water at its end, but so far I've found nothing. During my rests I sat under the mushrooms and read from a book of haiku I brought with me. The stanzas are so short, but there's a lot to be absorbed from these lines. It's an artform that's at once simple and profound, making it a great way to relax in the evening. I think I'll read a bit more before I fly the Essex downstream tomorrow.

One more thing I want to note is the weather here on Botana, and in turn what it means about the nature of the planet itself. The climate here is mostly neutral, with the temperature staying between 50 and 65 degrees Fahrenheit. Since I've been here I haven't seen an precipitation, only signs of it. Though of course a planet with this much plant life rains, and my God does it rain hard. The other day I was sitting by the river getting a water sample, when the rain began to fall. I thought it came strong at first, but what followed it forced me to reconsider how I define the word. Most rain I've experienced fell in drops; regardless of how hard it was you could feel individual beads of waters. Though here on Botana, it feels like a million streams of water are beating down on you, more so like a shower than a natural downpour. I tried staying under a mushroom to observe, but I had to move to the ship to keep from getting sick. The rain flooded the river, and the surrounding valley was soon covered in about five inches of water. I had to lift the Essex off the ground to avoid any damage, and for a while I felt like Noah in his Ark, waiting out God's flood. By morning, the planet had drank up all the rain, with the morning dew on the grass being the last few drops at the bottom of the cup. As I came off the ship, I couldn't help but laugh. I was in hysterics for about five minutes, unable to believe that Botana was really that thirsty.

It's been nearly a month now, and so far, I honestly feel like this planet is alive. Trees and flowers on other planets are living, they're biological, but they aren't alive, not like they are here. I think the shrubs and the mushrooms, the trees and the blades of grass, they all have thought here. They communicate, they cooperate, they smile at the life they've created together and exist in harmony. I'm not suggesting that somewhere there's a big face and that Botana can speak, but I truly think that the flora has some level of cognition and awareness. It's just a hypothesis for now, I don't have enough evidence to take this claim anywhere, it's just a theory of mine. If it's true though, I wonder what the planet thinks of me so far? Am I a welcome guest, or am I intruding on the most reclusive civilization ever? In any event, I hope my ignorance isn't taken as hostility. This is Bruce Knight signing off.

The Knight Logs: 4

This is Bruce Knight, pilot of the Essex Fifth. I was right, the river fed into a delta, which then led to an ocean larger and more stunning than what I was expecting. The red valley turns into pink sand at the shore, which meets with a vast ocean to create a scene that's simply majestic. The waves come with power, but they crash with the same beauty that a kiss would. I arrived with the Essex at sunset, and as I stepped off the ship, as sappy as it sounds, I teared up a little. The light of the fading sun washed over the water like a blanket as the big ball of light crept slowly over the horizon, leaving me in awe of its everlasting beauty.

I sat on the shore for a while, just thinking. This beach, it reminds me a lot of Grandma Clara. She retired on a shore just like this, in a quaint little house where she has all the time in the world to knit, paint, read, and recount her war epics to the family. Last time we went over, before this voyage and my last, she was telling us all about how she helped overthrown the Cryyon Republic to the sound of dads laughs, and Laura's saying "You weren't scared Granny?" a dozen times. I'd hear it all before, but I loved how the beetle got a little bit bigger every time she came to the end of the story. After dinner me and Laura were going through Grandmas vinyl while she and Dad washed the dishes. Once they were done, Dad came into the living room with us, but Grandma Clara went out the backdoor, toward the beach. After a few minutes I told them I was gonna check on her, then I went out the back door. The whole night I hadn't said anything about it, but I was feeling... I was contemplating a lot. Normally that's something I'd share with everyone but, I just knew I needed to talk to Grandma that night. I knew she would have the answers.

She was sitting on the shore, letting the waves crash against her legs. I sat down next to her and asked if she was okay. She looked at me and smiled. She was fine, she just wanted to clear her head. I told her if that was the case, then I should sit for a bit too. So we sat there, taking in the ocean breeze as the sun pulled the cover of night over our heads. The water was just as dazzling then as it is here. After a few minutes, Grandma turned to me and she asked,"What's your mind full with honey?". I hesitated for a moment, and then I told her everything. I told her that I didn't feel like I was enough, that I'd never live up to her and Dad, that exploring was beginning to feel pointless. I told her that for all my adventures I still hadn't made a name for myself, and that made me feel awful. Once I was done, she cleared her throat, the funny way she liked to clear it before a speech, and she said...

"Bruce, I'm a decorated war vet and a hero to millions, and your father is one of the most respected soldiers to fly with a star fleet. As hard as you try, you may never live to accomplish as much as we did, and even if you did, it's never gonna feel like it was enough. Baby there's always gonna be a reason why you can't be satisfied, but... I didn't give my life to rebellions to live up to anyone, I did it because it's what I wanted to do. It made me happy. Your father served with a star fleet because it's what made him happy. If we wanted to live up to our parents, then I would've stranded myself next to a black hole and your father would have left you when you were six. Measuring yourself up to others only makes you feel small. You have to remember that the past isn't perfect, you can't treat it like some fantasy land. All together, what I'm saying is that success is what makes you happy, not what makes you like the rest of us,"

She's old, and her words aren't all that cohesive, but I know what she means. I need to find my own happiness, not chase after hers. She's right, I just... ultimately I don't know what I want. I love it here on Botana, but even still I feel like I'm not doing enough. Sitting here had made me wonder, how long will I stay here? How long will I travel from planet to planet with no aim, accomplishing next to nothing? And if I am truly happy, why don't I feel satisfied? I think for the time being I'll stay here, there's still more I want to see, but I... I don't know. Until I figure it out I guess I'll just sit here on the beach, clear my head. This is Bruce Knight signing off.

The Knight Logs: 5

This is Bruce Knight, pilot of the Essex Fifth. I spent two and a half days crossing the ocean, passing over dense reefs of coral, and waiting for me on the other side was a sight I could never have hoped to dream of. What met my eyes was a towering series of waterfalls coming down a vast cliff side leading into the ocean. All along the cliffs were lush purple vines that weaved in and out of each other with a wild, untamed sort of beauty. The water rushed, not with anger but with freedom, and it flowed into the water with a sort of unity. Though it was calm scene, the falls felt so chaotic. The rush was so encapsulating, I could hardly look away. Before I knew it I had the Essex hovering next to it for three hours while I followed the twists and turns of the vines against the falls.

That isn't even the good part though. On top of the cliff, past the roaring river, was a large forest of cherry blossoms, their petals bright pink and their bark a clean white. The trees tower over me, not as severely as the one I encountered when I first landed, but still enough to be astounding. They look so tranquil, and the way the petals moved in the wind was so scenic. They rained down on me like love on a summer evening, and I couldn't help but smile as I tried to catch them before they fell to the ground. Speaking of, the forest floor is a wonderful meadow of white flowers, their frills folding and curving like the... well like the frills of a gown, of course. Last night I took a nap, right here in the middle of it all. While the sun shined down, I laid down with an apple and a book and I fell asleep deep in a bed of flowers. I woke up at sundown drowsy with petals sittings on my face and in my hair. It was profoundly beautiful, much better than sleeping on the Essex. You would've thought I was crazy how hard I was smiling that day.

Speaking of the ship, there's something I wanna make note of. I've been observing the flowers I picked back when I first landed. Back when I picked them I felt really guilty, since I wasn't supposed to dig, pluck or excavate anything. I said as much in my log, but my mind slipped and now I've got three flowers in a glass vase on the Essex. I admitted this to one of the environmental agencies protecting the planet, and luckily they're only fining me. Their parameters for what could be taken as a sample weren't very clear; a loophole which got me off with a slap on the wrist. I'll probably return the flowers before I leave though, if thats still possible. I'd feel too bad taking them home with me.

Though what I've found interesting, and ultimately more important, is how the flowers have behaved on the ship. After about two days, their roots grew into and intertwined with one another, making it so that they share the nutrients they receive. I've been giving them part of my water supply, and while it's not Botana water, they seem to like it well enough. I'm keeping them next to one of the windows so that they can get natural sunlight rather be dried out by one of my heat lamps. Unlike other flowers, which start slowly dying once they catch sight of a vase, it's as if these are adapting to the ships environment. They're learning to live with less water and a different climate, as if they had greater awareness of their surroundings and what's happening to them. I'm sure they recognize that they aren't in the ground anymore, and that the water they are getting isn't rain, and possibly even their location relative to the sun, but I wanted to take the theory further. I wanted to see how much awareness these flowers really had.

I started playing some music over the ships speakers, and believe it or not, the flowers turned upward. One by one they turned to toward the vibration, and didn't move until I cut the sound. Once I did, they turned back toward the window and started taking in the sun again. Their movement was gradual rather than fluid or conscious, but nevertheless they did move. I dug into some old files, and studies have been done to see if plants would be affected by music, but the findings were more focused on growth rather than cognition. I'm sure other plants could feel vibrations, but the fact that these flowers actually turn as though they are listening to the song, it's... it's goddamn incredible. They're aware, they're responsive, and I'd even argue that they're alive in a sense. Every week here is like peeling back the layers of Heaven, and the longer I stay here the more I feel like I belong. Hell, I'm having so much fun I almost forgot to write this weeks log. Of course I can't stay forever, but all I need it a couple more weeks in paradise. A couple more weeks to see what more Botana has to offer. But even now, I can't help feeling like Eve, eating what I shouldn't and neglecting the rules of the garden. I know my anxiety isn't God and it doesn't make the rules, but it feels just as powerful. It's weird, everything is right but nothing feels correct. But for now, I'm not gonna worry about it. Maybe it's better if I put down the pen for now. I have some more experiments I wanted to run before it gets dark. This is Bruce Knight signing off.

The Knight Logs: 6

This is Bruce Knight, pilot of the Essex Fifth. I am honestly losing my mind. This, this is huge, this is... fucking nuts. I found metal. Not ore, or a stone, real processed industrialized metal. A round metal cover to be more precise. I flew away from the cherry blossom forest, hoping to find more life that I could study. I was moving through a flat field of tall purple grass, making my way to another blooming forest when I realized I had dropped one of my pens. I retraced my steps to look for it, and after a few minutes I felt my foot hit something metallic on the ground. It looks like some kind of a manhole cover, or a bunker opening with an extremely weathered, rusted top.

This is groundbreaking, no pun intended. Up until now, not just me, but the scientific community at large believed this planet to be perpetually vacant of intelligent life. But now there's a metal circle staring at me, proving me wrong with its existence. There's been someone here before me, someones, a society. They built, they mined, they thought, they experimented. Whoever they were, they had some kind of a consciousness, and a structured way of life. Though ultimately the question is, where are they? Why is there no evidence of them, no obvious signs of civilization? How is it possible everyone has missed something as big as this? I mean, I am one of the few people to set foot on Botana, and this cover is conveniently covered by a lot of grass. Likewise, it's a big planet but... this is wild. To think that I might be the first person to ever discover this, it's... incredible.

There's so much at play here, and the more I think about it the stranger it becomes. There are people on standby I can contact, for consultation, aid or otherwise, but I... it would be wrong. To call for help I mean. If I show anyone this, Botana loses its sanctity. With the introduction of a civilized element, the natural utopia falls apart, and what is pure will be swarmed and exploited by all those eager to pervert Botana and it's beauty. No, I can't let that happen, this planet is its own being, and it deserves the peace it's been allowed. I can't leave this stone unturned either though. This planet was always an enigma, and its mystery has increased tenfold with this... door, hatch, entrance. Whatever it is, I have to know what's down there. I have to know what's down there. If I want to truly understand Botana, I have to know what's down there. I'll gather my gear then descend in the morning. This is Bruce Knight signing off.

The Knight Logs: 7

This is Bruce Knight, pilot of the Essex Fifth. I've been down here for two weeks now, and I barely know what to make of it. This place isn't a bunker like I thought, but rather a maze. My echo-locator is showing that these cold halls stretch on forever, further than my eyes can see and my mind can process. Each corridor is lined with dozens of rooms, with numbers and symbols on each door. All the ones that aren't locked shut are vacated, and have identical furniture; a stiff bunk bed, a desk and chair, a toilet, a shower, and a dresser. Though, most of the rooms are trashed and either have missing or destroyed items. Ahead of me are a few larger rooms, possibly communal areas, though I have yet to reach them. For now I'm writing from one of the empty rooms, trying to get my bearings before I continue.

Most of the rooms are full of books, clothes, and pieces of broken technology, all of which had been forgotten by their owners. It may not work, but the fact that there's technology here to begin with is mind blowing. The books are in humaspeak, and what's left of them is extremely insightful. There existed here a well developed society, one with cities, organizations, academia, and business; a real organized civilization. Even if I'm reading sci-fi novels right now, the fact that these people even wrote fiction speaks volumes. The details here are rich and so informative, so much so that I've started keeping a running encyclopedia of all the information I have. It isn't very thick, but it's amazing the kind of knowledge I've amassed in such a short time span.

Rather than travel between the bunker and the surface, I brought a bunch of my stuff down here. I packed my books and journals, my music, some food and water, a sleeping cot, and some other necessities. Sleeping down here is one of the most uncomfortable things I've ever done; I can barely sleep thinking about what could be lying in the darkness, waiting to be discovered. Though what I'm really scared of is losing my stuff down here. Finding a book here would take me ages. Speaking of, I never did find the pen I was looking for. Damn. The flowers on the Essex are being watered on a timer, and I left some jazz playing on the Essex so they wouldn't get bored. I'm trusting the ship to run fine while I'm away, but just in case I have a live feed running that I check throughout the day. It also helps me know what time it is above, so I don't ruin my circadian rhythm. I left a trail with rope back to the entrance as the last of my precautions. It's florescent and long enough for me to keep using it, I'm just hoping that there's nothing down here to cut it halfway.

As I comb through this dark dungeon, all I can think about is the world above. Botana is a giant ball of matter, a living sphere, a dense world of tranquility and joy. But this... this... cave, it's disgusting. It's grimey and old, the metal is rusted and the panels on the walls are falling apart. I can tell from the clothes and the... bones that there was life here, for a long time;intelligent life that must've come from above. This bunker is vast and these corridors are long; it might take me ages to see it all. But I have to keep going. There's a mystery forming here, and I can't leave until I have a full picture. I'll open every door and search every crevice, pour over every detail and examine ever clue until it all makes sense. I've got this itch in my brain now, this need I have to satisfy. I'll stay here until it's done. Once I'm satisfied, then I can leave. This is Bruce Knight signing off.

The Knight Logs: 8

This is Bruce Knight, pilot of the Essex Fifth. It's been three weeks now since I uncovered this bunker, and the things I've found have been... chilling. Learning things that conflict with reality, it's uncomfortable. Like finding out you're adopted, or that your wife has cheated on you. I don't know, I just feel... I feel awful. Rather than detailing what I've seen, which has been disturbingly more of the same, I wanna document something I found recently. It's a note, written in ink on a piece of paper. I'm not sure if it was intended for someone, or if the author was just venting to themselves, but it's intriguing nonetheless. I have other lost papers, textbooks, and novels with me, but this note is particularly passionate. It leaves a lot to be wondered about what kind of society existed here, and I think that in time, it'll help me better understand what happened here on Botana.

Our people have been down here for generations, bounded together by our guilt and ignorance. We could have had everything: a world of bliss where joy is eternal, beauty is everlasting and hate is a bad dream, quickly forgotten when we return to reality. But instead of reaching for heaven, we shook hands with the devil, falling for all his alluring fallacies. This planet was always better than us, and I imagine it will be better without us. As everyone dies around me, all I can think of is the irony of it all. Our own weapons lead to our destruction, and in all our ambition we've

That's where the note ends. I looked around the room I found it in, but I couldn't find anything else. I've reread this little thing of paper dozens of times now; it's eerily prophetic, and the most meaningful text I've read since I've been down here. Part of me wishes that the author was still down here, hiding behind one of these old desks or under a bed, just so we could talk if they were to reveal themselves. But I'm sure they've long rotted down here, though their words live. Because of this note, I've come more definitively to the conclusion that, rather than having always been a lush, remote utopia, Botana was once a different planet, with a different name, and a different population. The people that were here before destroyed their own society, through war, poverty or some other calamity of man, and in an effort to survive they resigned themselves to this cold, dead abyss. Now there's nothing left of them except dust and yellow paper.

What I need to know now is what these people were running from. The note speaks of ignorance and weapons, so they must have been running from some kind of disaster caused by war. Though on the surface, the physical one I mean, there's nothing to suggest that any kind of fighting took place. No debris and no ruins, though the irregular way the hills are shaped could be due to trench warfare or cannon fire. I have a few running theories, but for now, I have to conclude that it's been so long, that whatever happened here transpired hundreds of years ago, leaving no signs of civilization. The pieces are starting to fit together, but I still need more. For now though, I'm gonna keep digging. I'm away from the main residential quarters now, and closer to the maintenance and staff rooms. Hopefully something there can give me the missing piece I'm looking for. This is Bruce Knight signing off.

The Knight Logs: 9

I've cracked it. Finally, after a month of living in this morbid bunker, it's all come to me in this... goddamn lab. This chamber, this room, whatever the hell I'm in. It took me three days, but I gypped the lock separating the staff area from the residential halls. This section is where all the scientists, engineers, and other worker bees did their business. There's plenty less ruin, and surprisingly there was still some power left. Enough of it so that I could access historical files on Botana, or Sodym as it was once known. The OS on these computers was a bitch to navigate, but after rerouting power and blowing off some dust, I had what I'd been looking for; photographs, documents, video clips and audio files, all the answers were in the palm of my hand.

The info was filed like shit, so it took me a minute to piece everything together, but after a few hours, I had a timeline that made complete sense. For the sake of concise record-keeping, I'm going to summarize what happened here, in the most detailed yet simple terms I'm capable of producing. Some time long ago, the civilization here lived in a grand technological hubris. They cracked sciences most planets could only dream of, and the wealthiest countries lived without much care for the global climate, neither physically nor politically. I mean the pictures here, they show megacities touching the clouds and machines I can barely understand, let alone identify. These people had everything, they lived in a luxurious euphoria you could only find in a novel. It's not hard to see why they didn't care much about the rest of the world.

With their peace came ignorance. Willful, pitiful ignorance. Across the globe, new technology meant new ways to kill and new things to kill about. War was waged daily, leaving the planet itself scarred and uninhabitable in some places. For as many centuries and millennia of evolution it took to build these cities up, they fell a thousand times as fast. Blood was spilled every day, all in the name of profit and power. The news was no better, treating war footage like highlight reels and the journalists profiting every time a soldier met the end of a bullet with their face. These people were encapsulated by their own downfall, and as it continued war became commonplace. The populous turned dangerously apathetic, and by the time their end came, they could barely understand how the had sealed their own fate.

Everything starts to get muddled here, but with the few details I have, I was able to make out the rest. I was right, Botana is alive, more so than I thought. And on top of that, it has feeling, emotion. It expected the people to care for it, and in turn, it would care for them. But instead, they robbed the planet of everything it had: its resources, its plant life, its animals, its air, it's free will entirely. These people forgot to consider the planet they lived on, and when Botana got fed up, it pushed back. At the peak of their bloodshed and cushy living, an event known officially as the Major Reckoning ensued, which is described in one of these notes as "The wrath of God being unleashed on the self-proclaimed mighty". During this tragedy, tsunamis destroyed coasts, earthquakes split cities, hurricanes wiped out centuries of infrastructure, and extreme weather killed more than their weapons ever could have. From there, bunkers were made to house those who had survived the calamity, and connected under the surface of the planet via long tunnel systems. What happened hereafter, the final nail in the coffin, is referred to in some personal logs as the Minor Reckoning, though there are no good records to pull detailed accounts from.

I'm still processing it all but... I don't know. I mean... that was a couple of decades worth of history and I consumed it like candy. Not to mention the unknown amount of years in implied history it presents. In my search, I never stopped to consider the gravity of what I might find. I wish I could say I felt good about any of it, about knowing, but I don't. I feel sick. I'm tired, and I haven't seen natural light in a month. Back on the Essex, my water supply is running low and I've eaten up all the rations I brought down here. I... I think I'm done. This planet and its past, this fucking pit of death, these ancient people and their insolence, it's eating away at my brain. At my heart. I need to get back to the ship; it's time I start preparing to leave before I fall any deeper. I mean after everything, what the hell am I doing with myself anymore? Why... why did I come here? Why did I come here?

The Knight Logs: 10

This is Bruce Knight, pilot of the Essex Fifth. And... something happened. Something important. I'm back on the surface, and done getting some much-needed rest. I almost let that place break me. I felt so sick, so awful. I couldn't believe what I was reading; that major contradiction, the feeling of hopeless, it all crippled me. But now... I feel better now. Better but still lost, though I know I'm right around the corner of meaning. This morning I stepped off the ship and took a walk. I took the Essex away from the bunker, and headed north, toward a blue mountain in the distance. It's my intention to scale it before I leave, just so I can get one last look at Botana. I would have taken off by now, but like I said, something happened. Something important.

I had just left the bunk, intent on packing up and leaving within the next few days. I did an equipment check and made sure the ship wasn't severely damaged. I squared away all the maintenance needs and put my books back on their shelves, I planned how I was going to leave the flowers, hell I even called Laura and told her I'd be back so everyone would be ready for me. She didn't pick up but... my point is that I was serious. After a couple days, I was almost done with everything when sunset came. After I'd packed away my equipment, I took some tea and went outside to watch the day end, one last time. The beauty of Botana didn't deserve my anger, so I went to appreciate it, show it love before I left it forever. But before I could sit down, I heard the tree next to me stretch and rustle. I figured it was the wind, but once I realized the breeze was still I looked over. Its branches were stretching and growing, coming at me fast. At first I was scared but then it...

It hugged me. The planet, Botana itself, it hugged me. It made woods arms and wrapped them around me and I... I mean... I got hugged by a planet. I didn't know what to do; I dropped my tea on the spot and just stood there for a moment. For a split second I thought maybe I was going to die, for exloring the bunker, snipping its flowers, or some other form of offense; I thought it was going to crush me to death, but it wasn't applying enough pressure to hurt me. Rather, it was trying to comfort me. It was worried about me. Once I realized that, I couldn't help but cry. I hugged the tree back, hoping that the gesture meant as much to it as it did to me.

After everything, I finally had a read on Botana. It was alive, it could think and move, and most importantly, it liked me. It had opinions and preconceptions, and it could tell that I meant it no harm. All these months of running around, trying to be respectful toward the environment, it made an impression. And now... now I can't go. Not yet. Because... the planet wants me to stay. It hasn't been in vain, none of it. I learned more, I had experienced more, and I formed a bond that finally has a positive definition. Of course I don't know what I'm gonna do after this but, for now, I have purpose. So I'll stay, just a bit longer, until I can compose myself again. There's still this itch in the back of my head, and once it's satisfied, I'll know that my time here is done. When I'm satisfied, then I'll know who I am. This is Bruce Knight, signing off.

The Knight Logs: 11

This is Bruce Knight pilot of the Essex Fifth. I forgot how exhilarating rock climbing can be. This mountain isn't massive or anything, but it had enough jagged edges toward the base to trip me up. I love the struggle, the challenge; it's been a nice change of pace. I'm halfway up, in a small valley, sitting in a field of blue and white flowers. I'm setting camp here for the next few days, then I'm gonna head up to the peak. The rest of the way from here is grass paths and small fields, so it should be easy going. I've been filling time working on my chess strategy for when I get home; it's been months since I played Laura and I refuse to lose after being gone so long. Other than that I've just been up here reflecting. Now that I know where I stand with this planet I need to know where I stand with myself. I'm gonna ask myself the hard questions, and dig the answers from the corners of my heart I never explore. I've been thinking about the first one for a while, though it wasn't until recent when the answer made itself clear. Though in hindsight, the answer was always obvious.

There was this story Dad told Laura and I once, about the time he worked as a prison guard on Luggor. He and a few other soldiers were assigned to a prison on an abandoned moon to help watch over some POWs while his unit was on standby. He worked for a few weeks, making sure no one escaped and no riots ever got out of hand. It was about as slow and dull as it could've been. Dad explicitly told us that he had never missed flying more in his life. One night, while he was exploring the complex, he noticed an unmarked room that was locked. He was supposed to have a key to every room and cell, but nothing worked for that door. He had to bust the lock just to get in, and when he did, it turned out to just be an old storage closet with some old uniforms in it, and a dusty gumball machine.

Dad loves chewing gum. When he was little Grandma Clara was trying to quit smoking, so she replaced her cigs with bubblegum. She chewed all the time and played with decks of cars, just to keep cigarettes and cigars out of her hands and mouth. Thankfully dad picked up her new habit rather than her old one. Anyways, when he saw the machine he was ecstatic. Once he knew it worked, he said he would just sit there with it, and chew gum; ball after ball, wad after wad. Every night he would sneak back to that corner of the prison and do nothing but blow bubbles. It was his way of getting away from the routine, and being at home for just a moment. No matter what happened during the day, no matter who got shanked or robbed, who escaped, no matter what, if he could get to that room at the end of the night and chew his gum, then nothing else mattered. It was like that for about a week and a half, before one of the prisoners ruined it all. She led five guards on a chase around the prison after stabbing two guys. They caught her in the hall dad's gum machine was in; after everything was said and done the room had been exposed, and soon everyone was going in and out, taking all the gum the wanted. Dad never had peace there again, and deep down I think having his happy place ripped from him was more soul crushing than he was willing to admit. He told us that they were ordering a new machine a few days before he went back with the fleet.

I share that to say that, I think I've found something similar in Botana. This planet is my gum room, my happy place. I have it all to myself, all its history and secrets, and only I know how truly special it is. If I told anyone else about it, about the bunker and the flowers, about the falls and the mushrooms, about the flower fields and valleys, it would ruin it all. They would uproot every plant, cut down every tree, pervert every plain. If it got out that people have lived and died here, then Botana would lose all sanctity. I don't know how well I can actually "hide" a planet, but I'm gonna try. Because I have to. There's something profoundly beautiful about how detailed and alive this planet is. If I have to keep its complexities and mysteries to myself to preserve them, then so be it. I'd rather be alone in paradise than with company in torment. This is Bruce Knight, signing off.

The Knight Logs: 12

This is Bruce Knight, pilot of the Essex Fifth, with my final entry. Tonight I break for home. The sun is coming up now, reaching up over the horizon as the clouds make way for its light. The top of this mountain is a... my God, the most wondrous garden I've ever seen. The bushes and flowers, trees and vines, all laid out in intricately detailed patterns that could please even the most disdainful. Everywhere I look there's a new burst of color and wonder, and every time a breeze blows in and shakes it all, it feels complete. From here I can see all of the planet, the places I visited, and the ones I wish I could've combed over. This one is... I can't describe, not accurately at least. I can't do it justice. Everything is so perfectly arranged, it... it's perfect. All of it.

This morning I found a note in one of the pockets of my suit. I don't know how I went months without opening it, but all this time I've been walking around with it. Laura must have sneaked it in before I took off last. I managed to find all her little mints and snacks, but this is the thing that eludes me. It's crinkled and beat up but still legible. When I read it I... it helped. It helped a lot. In more ways than she probably expected. I'm sure she wanted me to read it on the ship before I got here, but I think I found it at the perfect time. I wanna copy it into this last log, just so I don't forget it.

Bruce

You think you're slick, but I'm your sister; I can see right through you. You're sad because you think you're worthless. You think you have no identity, no direction, and no purpose, but you do. You're not a soldier like Dad, you're not a warrior volunteer like Granny, and you aren't a mechie like me and Mom. Bruce, you're a nerd. I don't understand how you do it. You zip around space, going from one planet to another within days and weeks. You comb through caves and caverns, forests and lakes, lost cities, and old ruins, collecting a trove of secrets, trinkets, and samples. I mean God, you can hardly keep your feet planted on the ground, you'd think there was a monster living in your house or something. The most astounding part though is what you're out there for. You explore out of passion. It's not about some call to action or the need to fight, you just enjoy the world in the most vivid way possible. Uncovering the unknown, logging your experience, and immersing yourself in the culture and history of others, that's what drives you. Granny and Dad started The Knight Logs as a sort of active will, proof that they had lived in case they died in combat. In the same vein, you've recorded all your adventures, and when you die there will be proof that you lived. You think you're less because you don't have any scars or bruises, but it's your intelligence, your bravery, your love for the world, and the need to see it all that makes you the pride of this family. It's why I built the Essex Fifth with you, it's why we all love you, and it's why I hope you find your peace on Botana. -

Actually the greatest sister ever Laura Knight

It twists my heart to say this but... Laura is right. I never had a reason to take to the sky, and that's why I never needed one. This planet has made me realize that all I need is passion, not purpose. Its subtleties and its beauty, its history, and its secrets, it's what I live for. Peeling back the layers of the universe until I get to the shining center, that's what I want. For so long I felt like I wasn't making progress because I wasn't chasing something clear and tangible, but maybe the pursuit of happiness is enough. Sometimes I forget that Grandma Clara was a volunteer soldier, not drafted. She wasn't concerned with politics and drama, she just wanted peace. She wasn't content watching the world fall apart at home; she needed to be a part of the solution. I see now that I'm the same way; I wouldn't be happy at home, away from the ship. And I wouldn't have been happy leaving it all behind, not knowing the truth about Botana, no matter how much it broke me. Whether that similarity makes me a Knight or not is irrelevant, what's important now is that I am myself.

So first, ironically enough, I'm gonna go home. I need to put my feet up and reorganize myself. I have some calls to make, some gear to buy and a sister to hug. But once that's all done, I'm jetting off again. I'm gonna see everything there is to see and do everything there is to do. I love this world, despite how ugly and complicated it can be. As much of a marvel as Botana is, it wouldn't be as special without the rotting metal underneath it. Space is full of it, these dazzling contradictions. The polarizing nature of our universe is the best part of it, despite how it can make us feel, because if it were all pasture or all ruin, then what would be the point? So when I'm ready, I'm gonna bear witness to both faces, and look them in eyes with unwavering faith in myself. But for now, I'll be sitting here, watching the sunrise, while I drink some tea and finish this last crossword. For now, this is Bruce Knight, pilot of the Essex Fifth, signing out.