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MISSION LOG: 001 | AUTHOR: WOLFWOOD, N.
CURRENT STATUS: PARTNERS IN CRIME
LOCATION: SECTOR 7-DELTA, OUTER RIM — GUNG-HO SPIRAL
COORDINATES: RA 02H 14M 36.8S, DEC +15° 27' 49" | TIME INDEX: 0329 GST
Picked up a stray today. Tall, blonde, wearing a stupid coat you could spot from orbit. Was standing there in the freighter bay, practically dislocating his arm trying to wave down pilots. Looked like an idiot over there with ships peeling out the second they saw him. Should've been my first clue.
Figured maybe he had a credit problem. Maybe had a hygiene issue. Maybe both. But I've got fuel to burn, bills breathing down my neck, and he looked desperate enough to pay. Thought to myself, I've bunked with worse. How bad could it be? He offered me a fat stack for a ride out, no questions asked. That should've been my second clue.
A few hours later, after outrunning a damn fleet of Federation vessels, I find out why nobody wanted him: the guy's wanted in six systems. Six. Charges ranging from property damage to "acts of planetary destabilization," whatever the hell that means. Could be propaganda. Could be he's just a magnet for chaos.
His name's Vash. Vash. What kinda name is that? Thought about dumping him at the next port. Guy talks too much. Eats too much. Laughs at his own jokes. Too stupid to be the criminal mastermind his bounty makes him out to be. A bounty, I might add, that would pay off every credit I owe and then some.
I ain't no saint. I considered turning him in. Right up until I found out I'm now wanted as an accomplice. Just for giving the guy a lift. No good deed goes unpunished or something like that.
He's still paying, so I guess I'm stuck with him until I figure this shit out. Still keeping one hand close to the airlock controls. Just in case. And if he so much as leaves crumbs all over the cockpit again, I might actually use it.