Star date 3300.5.1
I uhm, don’t really know where to begin. Jemma is…well she, uhm, she died last night. I already reached out to command and informed them of her passing. It’s just, it was so sudden, ya know? She was out in the field collecting samples when a storm hit. A really bad storm. She told me she was fine, that she was on her way back, but she… she didn’t make it. I woke up expecting to see her thermal suit hanging in its display, but it was empty. That’s when I started getting nervous. I had a bad feeling all night, that somehow things were different this time. Ain’t it crazy how you get these voices in the back of your head? They push you, trying to get you to listen but in the end, I ignored them, dismissing them as a side effect of the isolation. Anyway, I tried to get her to answer over the com all morning and when she didn’t, I pinged her location and went to pick her up. I suppose I knew the worst could be assumed when she didn’t answer but seeing her lying motionless in the snow I…I couldn’t help but feel responsible. She was face down and so I turned her over. Her eyes were shut, and her lips were bluer than the alien sky. She looked so peaceful, like she didn’t suffer in her final moments. And she was old, almost too old to be doing this. I knew this was going to happen, but that didn’t make seeing it any easier.
“It’s to flippin cold on this rock,” she would say every time we had to go outside.
She wasn’t wrong. In the warmest months, this planet doesn’t get above freezing. Snow and ice are a constant hazard to say nothing of the creatures that call this place home. I placed her on the back of the sled and brought her back to base. I’m looking at her now even as I speak into the computer. What do I do now? I left a message with command, but they often take days to reply. She had no family, no friends, nobody to care that she is gone, aside from me of course. When I was sent here to be trained, I expected a small team, not a crotchety old lady with a death wish, and a mean right hook. Part of me wants to bury her in the snow. This was, after all, the planet she spent most of her life on. Would that be appropriate? I’m not sure. I suppose I’ll try to dignify her the best I can while awaiting word from command.
This is Jax, signing off.