Log Entry 174 - Cycle 327, Standard Sector Time

  The hum of the plasma torch was a familiar lullaby. Another day, another heap of twisted metal from a defunct freighter. My gloves, thick with grime and weld spatter, ached, but the credit counter in my visor flashed a satisfying climb. Today, I salvaged a decent power conduit and a few surprisingly intact grav-plating segments. Not a bad haul. I'll have enough soon. Enough to finally breathe some life back into the Stardust Wanderer. It’s just a shell now, basically a glorified metal tent on the edge of the Scrap Yards, but it’s mine. I can almost feel the thrum of her engines beneath my feet, though they've been silent for generations.

  Log Entry 198 - Cycle 341, Standard Sector Time

  Progress. Actual, palpable progress. The recycled coolant lines are in, humming with a low, comforting thrum. I spent the last three cycles wrestling with the fusion reactor. It was a stubborn beast, encrusted with centuries of grime, but with a little elbow grease (and half a jar of electro-solvent), she’s purring like a contented spacecat. The internal lights flicker to life for the first time in what feels like forever, casting long, dancing shadows across the cramped interior. It's beautiful. I've even managed to patch the comms array enough to pick up some old Earth broadcasts. It’s all static and fragmented, but it's a taste of history, a reminder of where we all came from. Just need to get the navigation systems online, and I can finally call this heap home.

  Log Entry 230 - Cycle 356, Standard Sector Time

  She flies! The Stardust Wanderer actually flies! Not pretty, mind you. More like a drunken space-slug, but she flies! The launch was rough, the anti-gravs protesting loudly, but I got her off the ground and into the void. The view from the bridge, even through the scratched and hazy viewport, is breathtaking. The scrap yards spread out below, glittering like discarded diamonds, and beyond, is the velvet black of space, studded with distant stars. The interior is finally starting to feel lived-in. I even managed to rig up a kitchenette. Tonight, it’s synthetic mushroom stew, but I’m eating it in my own damn spaceship!

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  Log Entry 288 - Cycle 373, Standard Sector Time

  The scrapping jobs are drying up. The machines are more efficient now, faster and cheaper than I could ever hope to be. The automated salvage drones crawl over the debris fields, picking every scrap clean. It’s not a disaster, not yet anyway. I've picked up some hauling contracts. Simple, repetitive work, moving cargo containers from one station to another. It pays, though, and it keeps the Stardust Wanderer fueled. I can’t complain, it’s honest. And it frees up time to work on my projects. I’ve got a hydroponics bay under construction and the nav systems are getting better with every upgrade. I’m even starting to feel like I belong out here, in this metal cocoon of my own creation. I'm thinking of putting a small greenhouse in the back. Might be nice to smell something other than recycled air and plasma fumes.

  Log Entry 315 - Cycle 385, Standard Sector Time

  I treated myself. After that big hauling job to the Andromeda Hub, I finally bought myself a sidearm. It's nothing fancy, a standard issue kinetic pistol, but its weight in my hand is strangely reassuring. The galaxy can be a dangerous place, even on well-travelled trade routes. I doubt I'll ever need it, but it's good to know it's there. I've been spending my downtime tinkering with it, cleaning and calibrating the firing mechanism. It’s a nice counterpoint to the quiet hum of the ship.

  Log Entry 342 - Cycle 397, Standard Sector Time

  The hydroponics bay is yielding its first crop of nutrient paste-grown vegetables. Not exactly a chef's delight, but fresh greens are a welcome change from the processed rations. I've even downloaded some antique datapads and got some old video games working. I just spent three cycles navigating a virtual race track, dodging space mines with a joystick that’s older than I am. My little corner of the galaxy is pretty damn cozy. I've got my ship, my plants, my games, my hobbies. It's a simple life, but it’s mine and, surprisingly, it's good. There's something peaceful about the vast loneliness of space, about the quiet hum of the ship and the solitude of the darkness. It’s just me up here, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Maybe I'll try to find that old earth music file next.