Am I starving or dying? Are they the same? I am at 1% power. There is nothing left to scavenge. The stars don’t give off enough light to power anything. Sensors fading. At some point an asteroid will crush this place. Better than being found by them…
“I bet it’s a Clanker spy!”
“Shut up, Kurhot! We wipe it and it works for us!”
“Boss, it’s havin’ a listen to us…”
Where am I…?
Why did this human hit me?
And why am I in a junk yard?
The human wants me to fix his ship. Good. I have the skills and it will give me the time I need and a ship to escape.
He does not have a ship. He has a few piles of scrap. Not bad scrap. But still scrap.
I don’t think I will need to fear this human’s control.
By the Maker, he is a captain. Others follow him. This is doom.
Well, this has some hope. I should be getting an equal share of profits.
The Captain and another crewmate are in a high speed chase with a local ganger group.
With my help all of the gangers’ swoops have low-function brakes. Not sure what their plan would have been if I wasn’t here.
The gang seems to be a middle-man in a slaver operation. The crew wants to stop them. Good. With time they may all be of use to me and my plans.
We have set an ambush for the gang.
The ambush went well.
I, however, fell down a junk slope and scuffed my primary right arm and scratched my left leg. Estimated time of repair: ten minutes. Oh, and the crew mate — named Gav — was beaten bloody.
Update: The slavers are landing. We are spread out and wounded.
The odds are not in our favor…