“Twin Suns of Trouble: The Story of -” No, that’s unbelievably corny. [pause] “Hard Boiled Along the Hydian Way: One Being’s Quest for Glory.” [laughter] That sounds like a cop drama with delusions of grandeur. Ah well, I’ll think of a title later, neh? Best to just start where I am and work from there. I can always make up a touching opening later. [throat clearing] Let’s begin.
Having just come from several dashing exploits on Malastare, I found myself adrift among the space lanes. Quite literally actually. One of those exploits involved the liberation of several cases of ryll spice from a wealthy if quite gullible addict. An act of charity, really. The poor man was killing himself. It seemed only right to help him on the road to recovery. Unfortunately, he reacted very rudely to my gesture of goodwill and sealed me inside one of the crates after catching up to me and emptying its contents. Speaking of which
[several loud bangs, followed by a scuffing sound]
Where was I? Oh yes, so there I found myself sealed within a crate and beginning to feel slightly woozy from the ryll residue lining the inside. With a whoosh I found myself jettisoned into the cold and unforgiving dark of space. That I did not instantly die I owe to the incredible welding job of a burly looking Klatooinian. I may never learn his name, only that he wore too much aftershave and took great pride in his craftsmanship. Excuse me for just a second, yes?
[pause, echoing banging]
[Muffled, not into the mic] You are going to need a bigger torch I think, neh? Do not hurry on my account, no no. I’m perfectly fine aside from the loss of feeling to my extremities.
My apologies, good friends. You have now my full attention. It occurred to me as I drifted that I may not have much time left in this galaxy, and that the least I could do after robbing the universe of such a fine personage as myself was to leave a memoir. Fortunately, my odorous Klatooinian friend left my datapad with me, neh? So I began recording.
[buzzing sound] Hey! Watch the sparks! Just because I cannot feel them does not mean I wish to lose my limbs!
Though I used up a great percentage of the power cell debating what to call this journal, and although I still have not decided, rest assured that opportunities have arisen that ensure I will have more than ample time to record my life’s journey for you, dear readers. Ah, and it appears our time is up. I must bid you farewell, gentle reader, and hope that our next encounter will be as sweet, yes?
[loud bang followed by a series of small clangs and muffled background muttering from several sources]
Ah! Excellent job with the fusion cutter, good friend. Like a real professional with the cutting and the flames. Any cries of discomfort were simply stress reactions I assure you. Now, could you tell me where your fine vessel might happen to be travelling? Lepskin? Never heard of it. No matter. Do you have any Rhyshcate? I have this terrible craving for Rhyshcate.
Who am I? My betentacled friend, let me just tell you…