Logbook entry

Finally... space under my wings.

06 Sep 2017Bram Armitage
Ten Weeks! Ten weeks in hack over a silly misunderstanding. Ten weeks since I have had space under my wings.

It's not my fault the local police force flew into my line of fire as I took out that Clipper. A pirate he was... and here I was, doing my bit, defending the Empire against the forces of corruption. Then Dudley Do-Right, or whatever his name was, veered left when he should have gone right and flew into a cannon shot already in flight and nearly has his Imperial Eagle pulverized for his trouble. It really wasn't my fault, but try convincing the powers that be, that.

No matter. I've had ten weeks of cramped quarters, bad food, and lots of time to catch up on my reading and calisthenics. I even got to talk with real live people, something that will be in short supply on my next trip into deep space.

I figure I'll head out to Beagle's Point. Soon, but not tomorrow. First thing on the menu is a good, thick, rare, honest to god steak. From a real cow, and everything. Stretch my legs, breathe some non-recycled air, work on my tan a bit... then off into the black.

Sounds like a plan.
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