This Guardian armor was repurposed from old Exodus Black crew flight suits.
Captain's Logbook. Ship, if we ever figure out the date, would you backfill it here? Thanks.
We are stranded on an outbound Centaur. With every word I speak, we fall further from our sun. 7066 Nessus shouldn't be here, but there was no way to anticipate the way it pulled us in. Ship's guess is that our orbital momentum—what we'd call a four-vector, for the dimensions of space and time—was somehow folded away into six extra dimensions. Leaving us on a crash orbit towards Nessus…
We have lost all sense of time. Past and future are like up and down, and we would walk them if we could, back to a place before Nessus, but we will always be on Nessus, too. I don't know. I don't know. They are trying to understand us. They must think like rivers. We are now receiving our own distress calls. I sound calmer than I feel.