Wreck/Humphrey D. Feathershaw
So here I am, Humphrey D. Feathershaw the Third, making his first grand voyage in space! Mummy said hauling cargo would be dangerous, but whenever I was around my Grand-papa's house he'd read me stories of the space pioneers and by Jove I'm determined to make it out here!
Some ruffians hailed my ship today and demanded my cargo. I tried to reach and amicable agreement with them but they started firing! I was only saved by the kindness of a passing vessel. The whole experience has left me rather discombobulated...
I... I killed someone! After my earlier experience, I had some weapons installed on the ship. I was attacked once again, but my superior equipment won me the fight, and his vessel was consumed in a ball of plasma flame. The strangest thing? I didn't feel bad about it. As his bio-sign faded on my scanner, I felt nothing at all other than the hum of my engine reminding me I needed to get my cargo delivered. Is this what life in space will always be like?
Looking back on my early logbook entries gave me a good laugh. I don't bother with such frivolities anymore. I was such a noob back then! I must be up to, what, 50 ships destroyed by now. My ship resembles less of a freighter and more of a gunship than anything else. I walked into a bar yesterday on some dive of a station and the other patrons avoided making eye-contact out of sheer terror. I've made quite a name for myself. If fear is the only currency going in this hellish corner of space, I've made a good investment.