The Excalibur is gone. Crashed and burned on an unknown planet on which we are now stranded. That ship was pretty much my home for many years. Now it is no more. We saw some of the lifeboats jettison before it crashed, but I don’t know how many of the crew made it off. I don’t know if my father is alive. He was in the Excalibur’s infirmary when we had to abandon ship, trying to escape from being arrested. I guess we’re fugitives now, on the run with very little supplies. We have to try to clear our names of those false accusations that moron Van Sant declared on us. It is definitely going to be rough for awhile, but I’m sure Baldur and I can get through it. I don’t know how well the kid will fair, but I guess he’s been on the run before. I actually feel bad for the new guy, Proga. He just took this new job and everything goes to hell. Maybe once he gets over the fact that all his quartermaster inventory was destroyed in the crash he will be ok. Anyway, I think out first order of business should be getting out of this forest and finding some more supplies, but we must be cautious. . . . .