What a month it's been! Let's see . . I've shipped food from Malta to Crete, bought myself a pair of Kusarian fighter craft, hmm . . oh, how could I forget about the lovely Dawn and Catalina. Though Dawn . . well last I saw her, she was with Vixen. Must've been eaten', or thrown out the airlocks of Rochester. Both of which seem like a waste, of such an interesting, if not slightly misguided gal.
He looks about his rented room on Freeport 10, gazing at the trail of water leading from the bathroom, to the piles of sheets and clothing strewn about
So anyhow . . I met someone. Well, two people. It's confusing to me. Anyhow, Catalina. I met her roaming about New York, and we started talking of the navy, liberty, her home-planet of Malta, and ended up taking a trip through Bretonia. Certain details are fuzzy, I'm told booze was involved at times. Anyhow, travels. I showed her the pretty, secluded Invernes, she dragged me into a rather . . well the quite frightening Chester system, to see the 'spirits' that lived there.
A voice is heard over the intercom, indicating he has 30 minutes to vacate the room, else pay for another day
I should wrap this up . . anyhow, we had a dinner of sushi rolls up in Hokkaido, before meeting her father on Malta, before ending up . . well here.
Richard smiles dreamily, recalling the past day's events
Anyhow . . she ran off with Vixen to Gallia I believe, hope they don't get into too much trouble out there. I've got to go broker some arms deal with the Arbiter, oh and, try to record more of these adventures.
He reaches over and shuts off the datapad, before walking off to his Touketsu fighter craft
Dear Diary;
I screwed up. Big time. And not by getting caught in a liner, slaves stacked one on top of the other for efficiency's sake. Or getting nearly killed by some |Blank| little |Blank| up |Blank| Kusarian dog. Fun times though. But this uh . . this is far worse.
Richard glances across the room, fearing he may have woken up the stirring mass in the rented bed
You know how, when you'd watch those 'scary' educational videos, mocking them and saying "Oh, that's not going to happen to me. That dude's an idiot."? Well I . . .I'm that idiot. Always thought I wasn't 'that guy', even went out of my way to try an' be . . all manners and respectable. Tried to act the gentleman, as I'd been raised.
A little smile forms on his lips, before he sighs, looking at the toes poking through tattered socks
I think . . . well I've been told, by the . . . the darling Vixen and Cat. Well . . . apparently Catalina's uh . . expecting.
He shakes his head
Not sure how this could've happened I . . it'd been . . anyhow, she's most likely pregnant. Still waiting to see the doctor, so there's hope yet. Maybe Catalina has a simple case of food poisoning or . . or a flu. Some other reason, to be feeling sick. Still clinging to that hope.
He chuckles nervously
Who am I kidding. She took a test, and it was positive. And here I am, still living in la-la land. Gotta . . start straightening myself up, man up and take some responsibility, aye? I mean . . .I feel like crap, but imagine what's going through her head right now. Can't let her go through this alone. Just . . can't. Till next time, sane-ness log
Rick puts down the datapad, and gets up from the rickety chair. He glances briefly at the door, before exhaling and making his way back to the couch.
So she's been a tad hormonal lately. I honestly can't blame her, having been knocked up at the fine age of 17, leaving her orange planet for the corruption and filth of Liberty. All in all however, events have been working themselves out relatively well, datapad that keeps track of my sanity.
The other day, Cat and I flew down to Curaco and had the most marvellous time on their beaches. Would you believe what a little drug money would buy on that planet? 2 klicks of perfect white sand, for the entire day. We "swam" in their oceans, lay about while their provided slave boy tended to her needs. Truly, it was a wonderful time for us both.
Let's see...oh, before I forget. We got engaged! The act itself didn't go quite as planned, not that it matters a whole lot though. It's the end result that counts after all. So yes, we are now living together. When I'm not out at Bornholm or Ainu, that is. "Director of Bornholm" is my current position in the Congress and I must say, it's a joke. The Corsairs out there are frequently killing one another, or paying mercs to blow up their own food convoys, the Zoners are these...happy go lucky bunnies one minute, and xenophobic bastards the next. All that, coupled with the daily research developments on the wreckage make for quite a time.
Anyhow, the next jumphole is coming up. Gotta run and do all those tedious pre-warp checks.
So it looks like I haven't updated my sanity log in half a year. Probably because I'm so damned busy, as I am yet again today. There was a report of a backstabbing wannabe, a baby that needed changing and the right belly turret to fix today. 'Suppose it's a good thing I lost my arbiter position in the Omegas - it's challenging to deal with Hessians, Corsairs AND unfunded research into that old military installation, while maintaining a fleet, building a trust fund and taking care of new and ailing family members.
Anyhow, enough ranting - I need to return to civilization. Been gone a few months after that unstable jump hole screwed my liner up - I spent weeks in asteroid fields, cruising on half-dead engines with fried radios. Think I'll look into a pair of autonomous tugboats to store in the landing bay, just in cast this happens again. At least I'd be able to rest and not navigate by sight only again, eh?
Also, Catalina gave birth, and I missed it because of this fiasco.
I've been promoted. Again. Not really a joy, seeing as how well the last gig went. More work for me, more people to kiss, more babies to kill. The base in Puerto Rico has been a real drain on resources lately. Sure, there are the barges and contracted jump ships, but it's still a hassle. Lots of aimless sitting at the console, waiting for drives to charge.
The Rheinlanders wanted something from me. Can't recall what, but I'll look it up. Hope they don't ask where I'm from - after all, a Libertonian in charge of Rheinland operations can't go over well.
The Van Pelt has been upgraded from Mark 7 to Mark 8 armor, father's disease is progressing, my brother is still god knows where and sister Alison hasn't been promoted in an age from that blasted Guardian she flies. Other than that, I've nothing really to report, sanity log.
![[Image: 66tD8j6.png]](http://i.imgur.com/66tD8j6.png)