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ABANDONED_TEST_1I sensed it again today. I found a scarlet pocket of flesh pulsating on the wall of an outpost. I knew it was inside. It had to be. I went in up to my wrist, then my elbow. Within seconds its gummy lips had constricted around my shoulder - my entire arm inside an airtight sack of liquid flesh. All I could find was teeth. Endless teeth.

I pulled out. The hole, gaping now, bubbled with red foam. For a moment I thought I could hear screaming. I had failed. It wasn’t there. I continued my journey.
ACCESS1_DESCRIPTIONSecurity and permissions pass granted to specific travelers by many primary galactic species.

Provides access to low level restricted areas and outpost systems.
ACCESS1_NAME_LAtlasPass v1
ACCESS2_DESCRIPTIONSecurity and permissions pass granted to specific travelers by many primary galactic species.

Provides access to mid-tier restricted areas and outpost systems.
ACCESS2_NAME_LAtlasPass v2
ACCESS3_DESCRIPTIONSecurity and permissions pass granted to specific travelers by many primary galactic species.

Provides access to high level restricted areas and outpost systems.
ACCESS3_NAME_LAtlasPass v3
ALIEN_EN_2Who Goes There?
ALIEN_EN_3What Mad Universe
ALIEN_EN_DESC_1Attain ‘Known’ status in Alien Colonist Encounters
ALIEN_EN_DESC_2Attain ‘Diplomat’ status in Alien Colonist Encounters
ALIEN_EN_DESC_4Attain ‘Ambassador’ status in Alien Colonist Encounters
ALIENS_MET_STAT_TITLEalien colonist encounters
ALL_1_CRASH_OPT_1Search the crashed ship for functioning technology
ALL_1_CRASH_OPT_2Search the crashed ship for any cargo it was transporting
ALL_1_CRASH_RIGHT_1You salvage a new technology from the wreckage!
ALL_1_CRASH_RIGHT_2The vessel was transporting valuable goods!
ALL_1_CRASH_WRONG_1Nothing is found. Perhaps I am not the first to find the stricken ship.
ALL_1_PORT_RIGHT_1The Portal opens...
ALL_1_PORT_WRONG_1The Portal remains closed
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_1Long ago, it seems, an automated distress call went unanswered.

If I can crack the encryption pattern I could potentially extract the coordinates.
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_10As I boot up the operations terminal a hologram of a spacecraft going through a catastrophic planetary descent is beamed into my visor. It's clear that it's on an express elevator to hell. The impact with the planet's surface is made to look tiny. In truth, the impact crater could be vast.

The ship's distress beacon can still be heard. It's encrypted, but if I crack the sequence I can lock the frequency...
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_11An urgent transmission is logged with the operations terminal. It has been answered, but there's no evidence of a rescue party being sent to answer the distress call.

A Transmission Tower worker went to investigate long ago, but no resolution was ever recorded. It's entirely possible that the rescue party itself succumbed to the conditions and roaming predators of this strange planet. If I can isolate the pattern within the encrypted frequencies myself, then I could perhaps finish the job...
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_12A red light on the Transmission Tower console throws light on a distress call read-out. Simultaneously the image of a craft violently pirouetting through this planet's upper atmosphere is beamed holographically into my visor. Amazingly, the ship does not break up on re-entry, but instead falls to the ground like a stone.

An automated distress beacon can be heard. If I can break its encryption I could find the crash site and, however, unlikely it is - look for survivors.
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_13An unanswered distress call seems to be logged.
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_14An urgent transmission is yet to be attended to.
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_15I'm taking in the view from cameras that feed in the view from the top of the Transmission Tower when I notice an urgent bleeping.

An unanswered transmission seems to be logged with the operations terminal. The voice of a ship's pilot calmly intones news of its imminent death to its superiors, or perhaps its family. Its words, however, are lost in static. Only a wavelength cipher remains, if I can crack the code I can perhaps ascertain its true fate...
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_16As soon as I access the tower's operations terminal I see hazy images sent from a doomed starship during its plummet to earth. G-force pins the body of its terrified pilot to the top of its cockpit, before slamming its broken body into the control mechanism.

There are clearly no survivors, but I can extrapolate the impact location if I can work out the coding of the repeating ciphers attached to the distress signal.
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_17The radio chatter spilling out of the Transmission Tower console is a wall of noise. It's painful to listen to, not least because of the desperate scream of an overheated fusion engine and devastating planetary impact that follows.

I try to clear the signal, and search for the encrypted distress signal that I'm sure will lie behind the spacecraft's death throes. I eventually find it, but then must figure out what comes next...
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_18In amongst warning lights and urgent communications chatter, I can hear a wavelength cipher repeating itself from the Transmission Tower databanks. It's heavily encoded to prevent pirates tracking its signal and stealing cargo, but with the technology around me and a little intuition I feel as if I could perhaps crack the code sequence.

The question is, how should I respond to the beacon?
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_19The Transmission Tower's terminal stubbornly refuses to decode a distress signal that seems to have been sitting in the databanks for a long time.

If I decipher the code I can hear the message.
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_2The operations terminal reveals an automated plea for help.

A clear pattern emerges within the white noise hissing from the screen. If I can work out what comes next I could potentially lock down the distressed craft's location.
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_20The tower's communication panel hisses with the conflicting broadcasts of several frequencies.

One sounds urgent, but how best to respond?
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_21As I access the Transmission Tower terminal I'm met with the unsettling hiss of several overlapping signals.

One sounds like a distress signal. If I can isolate the frequency I could pinpoint its location.
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_22The tranquillity of the Transmission Tower is suddenly broken by the hiss of an encoded incoming signal.

The terminal nearby flashes expectantly, awaiting an access code to unscramble the message.
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_23Static from several hissing frequencies mingle offputtingly with a repeating signal that sounds suspiciously like a distress call.

If I can pinpoint it I might be able to ascertain its whereabouts.
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_3The transmission readout suggests that, long ago, a distress signal went unanswered.

A sequence of numbers has been repeating itself for so long that its imprint is burnt into the screen. An input box flashes at me insistently. If I crack the code, I can find the ship.
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_4A faint, but insistent, bleeping noise can be heard from the operations terminal.

A garbled distress call can be heard amongst it all, alongside screams and the tearing of metal. The only thing that's clear to me is a brief number sequence. Cracking its code could lead me to the crash site.
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_5A pulsing red light flashes on the console. Below it, a sequence of numbers repeats itself endlessly below it. It's clearly a distress signal.

It is a cold, empty and distant way of viewing a disaster that, in all likelihood, cost a pilot's life. If I can work out the encryption routine, I could perhaps trace a ship's point of impact.
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_6An acoustical beacon can be heard through the operations terminal. It repeats at intervals of 12 seconds.

I feel compelled to work out the pattern of its encryption, locate the ship it calls out from... and discover what horror awaits at the crash site.
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_7The operations terminal flickers on, and a muffled distress call bleeds from the system.

If I can pinpoint its frequency by cracking its encryption I could potentially discover the fate of the poor pilot. The jarring noise of screaming engines and terrified alien chatter I can hear, however, would suggest that it did not end well.
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_8This operations terminal has been switched off for many years. I boot it up, and it starts running through a vast database of signals silently recorded by the facilities listening devices.

Amidst countless requests for landing permissions and an atonal wall of ship-to-ship chatter, the system suddenly pinpoints an emergency beacon. An distress signal that has never been responded to. If I can isolate the pattern in its encoded frequency, I could perhaps trace the ship that's calling for help.
ALL_1_RADIO_DESC_9An unanswered distress call seems to be logged on the Transmission Tower operations terminal.

No-one has thought to respond. Its encrypted frequency sequence flickers desperately on the screen. Whatever hope the sender once had of rescue has long-since died. If I can work out what's next in the code I can at least find out what happened to them, and where they can be found.
ALL_1_RADIO_FOUND_1Distress Signal coordinates discovered!
ALL_1_RADIO_NOTFOUND_1No signal found
ALL_ABAN_DESC_1It looked like a wound on the world. Crimson and ragged-edged, like something that once lived but was then torn asunder. I should have stayed away. Had I the senses to taste the air of this planet, I imagine it would have reeked with some kind of alien fetor, but nothing could stall my curiosity.

Was it dead? Where I touched it, the surface was moist and yielding. It seemed to become motile then, crawling on a mat of slow cilia, moving from me. I should have left it alone.'
ALL_ABAN_DESC_10Is there a connection between the monoliths and the Sentinels? The origins of these ancient structures seem to predate all known civilization, although over time they have become imbued with the beliefs and the histories of the creatures that evolved around them.

What if there was a precursor species that came before us all? Imagine one of such infinite knowledge and interstellar power that even after extinction has erased their traces, their tools remain for us to pore over, like an infant confronted with a fusion reactor.'
ALL_ABAN_DESC_11When there is no explanation for a phenomena, it is a natural progress for intelligent beings to fill in the missing parts of their experience. On some worlds, the Sentinels are still worshipped as avatars of an all-seeing deity. Drones are considered sacred, sent by an unseen God to ensure that they live in enforced harmony with the environment around them.

There is a disturbing commonality to many elements of their theologies; a recurring visual symbol of a crimson sphere and the promise of an end time soon to unfold.'
ALL_ABAN_DESC_12The experiment’s final phase emerged from frustration. We wanted to learn something new. We wanted to know how they worked. We wanted to see inside them. An untested dimensional-warping process was used, one we believed would allow us to capture a drone intact. We would cage it, keep it docile. It was our error to believe we could.

The machines co-opted the warp-tech and turned it upon us. In the horror of it all, our flesh was merged with their metal. Our questions were finally answered.'
ALL_ABAN_DESC_13There is a world in the great void where all things are made of razors and glass. Pity anything of simple, soft flesh that goes there. The glass is thirsty. It is brittle and crystalline, and so very beautiful to behold - but it must drink.

You will go there and you will forget my warning. Then it will cut you with an edge so fine that you will feel no pain, and only as your life gushes out to dampen the cracked and broken landscape will this come back to you. Too late. Too late.'
ALL_ABAN_DESC_14Beneath their skin, they had placed tiny seeds of the glass, which took on the appearance of strange, ritualistic scarring. The nubs of the broken crystal were ancient, ground down and polished by generations before them. They fed them their life, and in return the crystals glowed with emerald fires and brought them closer to their fate.

I would listen to them talk of worlds they could never have seen, in alien tongues that their body was not made to utter. The glass made them something more than they were, a vessel for intelligences utterly unlike us.'
ALL_ABAN_DESC_15The orb rests within its cage-cloak of crystal in so many guises. The angles of the shroud are utterly perfect. When measured, no device of known science can determine any flaws, any variation in surface even down to the molecular level.

I have tried time and again to get close enough to touch it, but it retreats from me. I am not worthy to know its secrets yet. My mind must be opened wider. The layers of me revealed and peeled back in sections. There is no other path open. I have already begun to cut upon the skein.'
ALL_ABAN_DESC_16If one can see clearly enough, you will come across a crystal and learn that it is made, not of atoms and molecules, but of thought and gravity and numbers. You must go deep. Come and see, I beseech you. More than I must know of this, if only to spread the word and warn the other species.

Tell it to all. Write it in every language you know, etch it in stone, scream it in song but never be silent. I tell you; I have seen what lies beneath the surface of everything. The brittle grid of reality crumbles.'
ALL_ABAN_DESC_17It is here and not here. We reach for the mastery of the galaxy but we do not understand the truth. What if I told you that time is the drug that keeps us docile and unquestioning? There is no now and then, there is no today or yesterday. This is an illusion reflected in glass, patterns of untruth that the universe uses to laugh at us.

We are not meant to see such things. Our smaller minds rebel at concepts so unimaginably vast that they cannot be held in a single thought. It is how it controls us.'
ALL_ABAN_DESC_18I will cut open space. My heart is filled with regret, but there is nothing else to be done. I find only darker roads and glassy, endless chasms ranged before me. It is for the best. The lacerated, blade-filled path is the truth and I am unable to deny it. In time, there will come daring souls far cleverer than I who will learn from my errors.

I forge the way for the ones to come after. I walk barefoot on shards of broken reality, into the infinite and shattering forever. At the heart of it, the secret awaits me.'
ALL_ABAN_DESC_19My comms hub detected a garbled message sent with strange resonance qualities. Not unusual, given the atypical qualities of local space-time in this quadrant.

Systems spent several cycles attempting to reconstruct the missing elements of the message to no avail. Analysis indicates that the signal shows signs of degradation corresponding to initial transmission occurring before the planet I orbit was even formed. And yet my name is spoken clearly amid the static and the distortion.'
ALL_ABAN_DESC_2I glimpsed the crimson orb between the clouds. A vast and baleful eye, unblinking and monstrous. Fear turned the blood in my veins to ice. I was so afraid it would see me, but then the clouds moved and it was gone. I was no longer certain if it had ever been real.

Perhaps the fungal deposits from the last world I visited are still clogging my exosuit vents. Affecting my cognition somehow. I have cleaned my filters six times now. But I still feel it inside me.'
ALL_ABAN_DESC_20I traded with a Korvax Entity I met on Ikdlak. The sentient offered refined rods of Chrysonite as part-payment for various star-mapping datums recorded by my ship’s sensor modules. In the process it encountered the anomalous message I detected several cycles ago.

I dismissed the signal as a chance event, a random coalescence of interference that happened to resemble a spoken voice. In truth, it had disturbed me. The Entity analyzed the message in its own curiosity and revealed another layer beneath the audio component. A visual of a world with green skies and an obsidian moon.'
ALL_ABAN_DESC_21The mysterious message continues to prey upon my mind. With the aid of the Entity, I have learned that its temporal origin is approximately two to five thousand solar cycles from the now. I have narrowed down a point of transmission to a sector of space in the haze zone, close to the galactic anterior.

I realize now that to ignore the signal would be an error. It is incumbent upon me to trace it. In my more fanciful moments, I wonder if it might be a warning or a revelation. I have set a course.'
ALL_ABAN_DESC_22This will be my last recording for quite some time. I have refitted my vessel with a powerful Odvinsko hypderdrive and a cryogenic suspensor pod. It is my intention to enter a dormancy state in order to survive the journey to the distant source of the anomalous message.

I have nothing to hold me here. I have committed myself. While I sleep, I will listen to the signal. My resting mind may be able to parse yet more meaning from it.'
ALL_ABAN_DESC_23I awakened to discover that the planet from the image is gone. Only a belt of rubble surrounding a red giant star in the final stages of collapse remains. Whatever cataclysm killed this world took place before my species could walk upright.

But it is undeniable. The signal came from here. It carried my name amid its atonal song. I have crossed unimaginable distances to seek out the origin point. Sensors have detected a metallic mass embedded in one of the largest of the planet’s fragments. It will take time, but I will be able to dig it out.'
ALL_ABAN_DESC_24The red giant consumes itself. The interactions between spatial shearing zones in the system are causing the formation of a singularity. Space-time is becoming malleable. I am unable to depart.

In the ashes of a dead world, I exhumed the corpse of the ship that had sent a message to me across the millennia, the ship that knew my name. Crushed and warped by unimaginable forces, I could barely recognize it. But I see a corroded Odvinsko hyperdrive, a cryo-pod. The same as my ship’s.

My vessel is buried here. The voice is mine. I am warning myself-'