Scout's Log

My account of life in space. The year is 77 Space Age, which is, in more ancient terms, 2327 CE. I am space debris. And of all the ships in the galaxy, I had to hop aboard the pirate ship. Such is life.

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Name:
Location: onboard 'Oberon', deep space

I push ahead, always navigating, always scouting somewhere. I have this tendency to outlive my friends, and much of what I have known is now gone. It is my goal in life to know everything. I figure the best way to do so is to travel the universe, picking up information as I go. This is the path I've chosen.

Sunday, April 23, 77 S.A.

empty belly

Good Runners pay attention, bad Runners pay.

We opened our last crate of foodstuffs only to discover the entire crate spoiled and unusable. Last time we ever buy from Spenser.
We're days out of anywhere, even with jumps I'm still too weak to manage. The nearest spot is Rigon, several days away. Xylos would be closer, if it wasn't a chunk of rusted scrap and busted bolts hanging in the airless night.
It's easy to lay blame here, but it won't save us anything. We've got a few days of protein shakes left, and some of the supplies I've picked up from various ports. Caban says we'll make it, and there isn't much else to do but believe him.

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