Logbook entry

One thousand five hundred and nintey

28 Dec 2018Chaff
...give or take a handful. That's how many people I pulled out of the burning nightmare that is Mendez Terminal over the course of 12 trips last night.

Explosions throwing my Anaconda against the interior of the station, the screeching of debris stripping off the hull and paint echoing through the ship, the hollow sound of containers full of black boxes and personal effects bouncing off the plating, the terrified voice of the station flight controller, desperate cries for help and of warning over the comms... Your brain just kinda shuts it all out after a while.

To be honest, I turned off the comms after the first few trips. It wasn't like the station or the rescue ship wasn't going to give me a pad, and I got sick of hearing all of it.

"CHAF-1, you've been granted restricted access to land in the station. I hope you're here to help." No, I'm actually here for a couple of beers and a room.

Land in station, load as many (impatient) people as you can, take off, land at rescue ship, offload people, take off, repeat.

Feels nice to be saving people instead of blowing them up, and I got like 31 mil CR out of it, so that's cool. It's not Sothis/Ceos biowaste hauling, but 15m CR/hr ain't nothing to shake a stick at - and it smells much better.
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︎4 Shiny!
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