Diary Entry #1: The Gamble

  Stardate: 7.12.2347

  The datapad feels heavy in my hand. Like my gut. I just did it. I spent most of my saved credits I’ve saved over five frustrating years at the hydroponics farm. For what? A floating pile of space scrap called the Stardust Drifter.

  I know, I know. Everyone on Level 3 thinks I’ve lost it. Even my maintenance unit, MU-7, gave me a long, concerned beep before trundling back to its charging station. But I’m tired of the same routine, the recycled air, the endless rows of glowing lettuce. I want to see actual stars. Not pictures projected onto the hydroponics bay ceiling.

  The Drifter… well, she’s a mess. Her hull’s a patchwork quilt of mismatched plating, there are more dents than smooth surfaces, and the comms panel looks like it’s been chewed by a space rat. The broker all but laughed when I handed over the access codes. Called her a “reliable rust bucket.” But I saw something in her, a spark maybe, amidst all the peeling paint and exposed wiring. She feels… right. I know it sounds crazy. But this is happening. Tomorrow, the real work begins. No more lettuce, just grit and grease. Wish me luck, or at least, send spare parts.

  Diary Entry #2: Initial Inspection - A Disasterpiece

  Stardate: 7.15.2347

  Today was… revealing. I spent most of the day trying to navigate the Drifter’s cramped interior. The living quarters are barely habitable. The sleep cubicle smells faintly of burnt circuits and something vaguely…pickle-like. The galley unit looks like it hasn't been cleaned in cycles. I’m pretty sure I saw a small, bioluminescent organism living in the nutrient dispenser.

  The engines, thankfully, seem salvageable, though they’re caked in some kind of space grime that may be sentient, for all I know. The navigation system is older than me and has a fondness for flashing a rainbow of error codes. I swear, it tried to communicate with me in binary at one point.

  MU-7, who I brought along despite its initial reservations, seems less than thrilled. It keeps whirring disapprovingly and shining its diagnostic beam on things I haven’t even touched yet. Still, its little manipulator arms are proving incredibly useful at getting into those hard-to-reach places. We’re going to need a lot of supplies. Today's shopping list: industrial cleaner, replacement wiring, a new nutrient synthesiser, and maybe a hazmat suit. This is going to be a long, long process. But I’ve committed. Time to start stripping her down.

  Diary Entry #3: The Great Deconstruction

  Stardate: 7.22.2347

  Hands aching, covered in grease, and smelling vaguely of space-corrosion, I’ve made progress. Almost all of the old, broken components have been ripped out. It was like peeling away layers of the Drifter’s past; each removed panel, each freed wire, felt like a step towards a new beginning.

  I found a data chip hidden beneath the floor plating. It’s an old log, from what I could decode. The Drifter wasn’t always a rust bucket. She had a crew, a life, adventures. Reading their stories made me feel…connected to her. It fueled the fire.

  MU-7 finally started to warm up today. It seems to enjoy disassembling things. We discovered a structural weakness near the main thruster unit but managed to stabilize it. The old nav-system is completely unsalvageable though, it is just refusing to communicate. I’ve started looking for replacements online. Those are going to be costly. I need to find a side hustle to keep the credits flowing.

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  Entry 4 Sol Sector

  Dust. That’s all I taste, smell, and see. The viewport of this…thing… they call a ship is coated in the stuff. "The Stardust Drifter", they called it. More like the Rust Bucket Drifter. I sank almost all my credits into this pile of fused metal and outdated tech. Schooling in basic engineering feels like a lifetime ago, but looking at these corroded conduits and sparking power couplings, the memory is starting to flicker back. I'm not sure if I'm a genius or an utter fool. I've got to make this thing fly.

  Entry 3 135, Sol Sector

  Have been sketching trade routes, playing with some calculations. If I could secure a decent cargo of nutrient paste from the Outer Colonies and trade it for refined metals on Ceres, the profit margins are… tempting. Even if the margins are thin, this rust bucket could pay for herself. And me. I'll need a small loan – enough to secure the first cargo run and get the components for repair. I've spent hours trying to make sense of the loan applications, the reams of fine print are a nightmare. I might have to look to less... formal sources. The 'Shadow Syndicate' on Mars seems to offer quicker solutions, if at more usurious rates. It's a risk, but time is money, and the Drifter isn't getting any younger.

  Entry 4 Mars City – Lower Levels

  Bargaining with scavengers and cut-rate parts dealers is… an experience. My hands are permanently stained with grease and something of indeterminate origin. I managed to get a decent fusion core stabilizer from a shady dealer in the hydroponics district. It’s a few cycles past its prime, but the price was right. And I did have to haggle with some unsavory individuals for a working sensor array. One guy had a metal plate fused to his cheek - not keen to argue too hard with him! I got away with only a few bruises and the sensor. It's not pretty, but I'm slowly accumulating the parts. It’s frustratingly slow, every bolt tightens, every wire spliced, each a step towards flight, yet so painstaking.

  Entry 5 Sol Sector – Shipyard 3.14

  The last piece. A replacement navigational computer, finally installed. It only took two weeks and several hours of tinkering to get it to talk to the main system. My fingers are permanently coated in conductive gel but the main power couplings are stable. The fusion core is humming steadily, the air recyclers are working. The Drifter, she’s almost ready. It feels… strange. Like I’ve been building more than just a ship, I've been building a future. I've got the loan approved - it’s a hefty sum, but the potential profit should cover it quickly.

  Diary Entry 6 Sparks Fly - Literally

  Today involved a lot of sparks. And a small fire. Mostly my fault, attempting to install a new power converter. I think I may have wired something backwards. But hey, learning by doing, right? MU-7 was very helpful in extinguishing the flames. I think I spotted a hint of amusement in its blinking sensor.

  I managed to get the life support system mostly functional. The air is cleaner, the temperature regulated, and thankfully, no more pickle-scent. I’ve started to feel like I’m making the ship my own. I’ve found some old datapads with basic ship design schematics, and I’m spending my evenings sketching out what I want the Drifter to look like. Better storage, a proper workstation, and a dedicated stargazing viewport are top of my list. I feel a surge of possibility, a rush. This is more than just a ship now, it’s… it’s hope. Even though it nearly fried me.

  Diary Entry 7 Ready for Launch

  The Stardust Drifter is ALMOST ready. The final touches are being applied: diagnostics, polish, and a fresh coat of paint that isn't peeling. I’ve even given her a proper name: the “Phoenix.” It feels right. From rust to rebirth.

  I’ve checked and re-checked all the systems, calibrating every little dial and gauge until my eyes are crossing. MU-7 is buzzing with excitement, its manipulators tapping rhythmically on the control console. We’re ready. We’ve put a lot of blood, sweat, and yes, space-pickle smell into this ship. It’s a huge step, leaving the only life I’ve ever known. But I know there’s more out there, waiting for us.

  Tomorrow, we leave. The Phoenix and I.