The Privateer/July 22nd, 22xx

Base commanders log: July 22nd, 22xx. De: Lt.Col. Virgil Heidegger. Re: Material requisitions.

I just received word, two weeks late, that SLC command has no intention of sending me the supplies I requested last month. Their reasoning for denying me a ton of drinking water and 24 crates of non-perishable food is that "your sector is reportedly rich in these resources; recommend dispatching gathering crew." I stopped myself from firing back a message via Extranet that they're all full of shit. It's arguments like that that got me this bunk assignment in the first place, and now that I'm to be responsible for the lives of a thousand or so crewmen, I can't take risks like that. A base commander's responsibility should not have to be weighed against petty grudges with commanding officers. Either way, though, we've only got a month of water left, and no working hydroponics to grow food.

My chief engineer has told me that he "knows a guy" that can potentially help with the situation, but knowing his previous background, I am hesitant to take him up on it. It's hard to say if it's a bigger risk to consort with pirates or to piss off a Rear Admiral of the Coalition Navy, but neither sounds that appealing to me. Nearest colony to us is about three jumps, and that's if we take shortcuts through contested territory. I hate fringe space.

The incident that resulted in my being assigned this post still haunts me at night. I can't believe that my entire life could change so fast from one second worth of hesitation, but I guess the SLC has always been in the business of ruining lives. I question my loyalty...but I also don't want to be reduced to buying black market goods at inflated prices just to save my people. Maybe if I pulled some missions, in good faith, to get them to like me...God dammit, I can't even think about it without wanting to vomit. I used to love flying ships, what happened to me? I didn't even take anny hits that night. I got away clean. ...Maybe that's it. Guilt. I'm upset because the marauders that killed the rest of my flight squadron didn't even try to take a pot shot at me. Maybe they were in the business of mercy. Sounds like the opposite sort of business that they ought to be in, but maybe the Coalition cornered the market on that before the marauders could.

...Damn them, and damn the Coalition. I need a long shower.

--Lt.Col. Virgil Heidegger