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Crew Personal Logs
Diaries of the crew on this mission.
Oh, this is terrible. And why is it so dirty around here. . .
Well, this isn’t going to go any better than our last delivery. We managed to get into the docking bay, and with a little bit of rewiring, were able to close the bay doors that had been left open to space. The entire station is empty! We did briefly restore power, and then we got warnings about dangerous organisms being eradicated (us?), so we un-restored it quickly. Moving through the quiet station, we heard a few scratches and thumps in one of the waste disposal units. I wrapped back on the hatch, and was surprised to get one of those “voices in my head” that are usually just Widget or Lexx. This one said:
Hello? Is someone there?
I must have answered the same way, because my next “thoughts” were each answered:
My designation is I-9. . . . Maintenance and Repair unit. . . . There appears to be a malfunction in the door access. . . . It would appear there is a power malfunction.
We forced enough power into the hatch to open it for I-9. He and Widget must have been having a conversation without me, or I-9 is just programmed to be pleasant, because he’s been very helpful. Last he knew there were twenty-one others on the asteroid-station in addition to I-9: one in command, twelve scientists, six security, two maintenance workers. They just disappeared, right where they were standing, or eating, or working. We kept passing small piles of dust or ash, and… piles of clothing beside them. I was already getting a bad feeling, when I-9 explained that he hadn’t seen anything unusual, as he was in the waste unit clearing a clog of bio-matter. I asked if he’d managed, and he replied that it fixed itself. We are now going around and counting up dust piles/staff. I think we’d best wrap up our visit here, but do we leave the cargo? Not like they are going to pay, though perhaps I-9 would be a fair trade.
I’ve forgotten what I started fighting for.
It’s time to bring this ship into the…
Supplemental
Widget has told me that he and Brock, the tiny blue badger hologram that is apparently the brains of our ship, have come up with a name change to bring to the crew. We’ve been using LARS as our company name, using our initials– we were the four co-owners, after all. Brock and Widget would like us to consider changing it to BRAWLS. I am hoping to convince Widget, at least, that no one would ever want to offer cake to a group with a name that sounds like a bunch of party crashers.
I have been informed that they will take that under advisement.
I have a bad feeling about this.
Well, since our computer really needed quite a bit of help, we opted to upgrade it a bit more. Or maybe we just accidentally discovered a few things– it was sort of an already used, older model. Like, maybe pre-Gap. Anyway, six days later, a blue badger introduced himself as Brock. Lexx prefers to call him VI, as he is somewhat holographic in nature, but, well, Widget likes him. Widget says Brock was there all along and slightly miffed no one had talked to him.
We are having our sensors swapped out for something more long-range– don’t want to be surprised by any. . . thing. The elf guy from the one tavern hired us again, 2000 credits now and 3000 if we manage to deliver something. We’ll have to be in drift space seventeen days to get to the drop off. It’s in a system with a red dwarf, four planets, and an asteroid belt. We will drop out to normal space and follow a transponder. With our new sensors, that should be easy, and Brock has kindly offered to fly. . . himself for us.
Addendum
We’ve managed to go through three weeks of not trying to kill each other, and are feeling pretty good about this delivery. We’ve followed the transponder to a hollowed out asteroid in this unnamed system. There are a few destroyed turrets on the outside, and no life signs. I’m getting a feeling about these drop off points. Still, we’re here, and we don’t get paid unless we land, so we are heading in to the hanger. . . .
. . . Woo.
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🎴 🃏 🏆 💳
☂️ 🧢 🍰 📷 👟
🚀 🌑
Woo!