I am writing from a spectacularly decatend little bar in one of these hive Vlock’s rather more sophisitacated areas. I wish I could say that i’s been a lovely litle juant down to the surface like I had hoped and wished, but we both know that kife on our miserable little ship means that nobody ever gets too comfortable before something positively awful happens to someone. Usuallyy myself. And things were going so wsimmingly, too. Oh dear. My glass appeasrs to be empty. Should remedy that situation.
Well now that its rectified I should probably explain what all it is that I"m going on about with such abosolute vehemence. And that’s dnager, Diary. I am in danger all the time from every side and even in my own ship or Draque’s ship or whomever whant sto take responsibiilty fo that nightmore the point is that our Navigaors dead bfrom some sort of demon all balled up inside it. And to think that all I had blanned form this afternoon was a lovely bit of shopping whith Triox. Is that so much to ask, DIary?. I mean, really? Just on e time I’d like to believe no even just pretend at this point that I live in a civilized universe.
Well I suppose that this means I’m going to have to do a right mit mroe negotiating for our dearest fearless socially incompetent backwards stick up his arse captain. Best get myself anorther dirnk before attepmpting that one.