07MAR3025

I’d like to say things are going well. That’d be a lie, but I’d like to say it.

The good news is, I’m not dead yet. The bad news? Well, the ship’s got exactly one functioning thruster, a half-eaten protein bar stuck in the auxiliary vent, and the reactor’s making a noise I can only describe as existential dread in sound form.

It all started when I took on a simple freight job—moving “agricultural supplies” from one backwater station to another. Figured, hey, easy credits. No shady deals, no gunfights, no unexpected decompression events. Just honest work. Ha.

Halfway through the run, I get a proximity alert. At first, I think it’s a glitch—this ship’s got more malfunctions than working systems—but no, turns out some lowlife scavengers got wind of my cargo and decided I was an easy target.

Now, a smart man might have surrendered. A smarter man wouldn’t have been in this situation to begin with. I, however, am neither of those men.

So I did what any desperate, underpaid pilot would do—I dumped all power to the one thruster that still worked and prayed to every god I could name that inertia would do the rest. The good news? It did. The bad news? The scavengers weren’t impressed and took potshots at my ship just for the fun of it.

Somewhere in the chaos, my external sensor array got fried, and now I can’t tell if I actually escaped or if I’m just spinning helplessly through the void like an idiot.

Current status:

• Cargo integrity? Unknown.

• Life support? Barely.

• Dignity? Absolutely shot.

Lesson learned: Just because a job says “no risk involved” doesn’t mean some bastard won’t try to shoot you in the face anyway.

Until next time.

Quote of the Day:
"It’s not crashing if you meant to do it. Probably."