Subconsciously, my eyes flicker from the scanner to the fuel gauge being refilled, from the temperature gauge and out the window into the blazing star as I record this log.
I can still remember the day when I've finally saved enough credits to purchase my very own ship. It was a very battered old Sidewinder which had gone through many hands. From the amount amount of scorch marks on it, it probably has gone through an insane amount of battles, and probably smashed through a few asteroids as well come to think of it. It did had a very odd dent on it.
I immediately quit my corporate slave life and took to the stars right after I handed in my resignation and never looked back again. My head was filled with all the amazing adventures I will have and all the daring escapades that will experience as I made my name known throughout the galaxy. It was an amazing feeling. I could finally live out the fantasies that my favourite novels and vids had filled my mind with.
How stupidly naive I was.
Space is unforgivingly harsh and lethal. Day to day survival quickly took precedent as the need to maintain constant flow of credits became paramount. I need to be clothed and fed, and my ship needs constant maintenance, not to mention the various fees and taxes so numerous that I lost count of them. I spend most of my time in my ship, eating, drinking, sleeping you name it, its all in my ship.
It all becomes a bit rote now. Buy here. Sell there. Take this. Deliver there. Contracts after contracts. Trade runs after trade runs with nothing exciting. When you start find escaping interdiction attempts the only fun thing on the trip, there is something really wrong.
At some point, I start to wonder what the difference is between my old corporate job and being a spacer.
Oh, fuel scooping completed. Life goes on.