Entry 1
34.20.4315
This is my first entry. I've never tried keeping a journal before—they can be a liability in my current line of work. Plus, they always struck me as a rather self-absorbed exercise anyway, and I prefer to deal with more practical matters. But now that I seem to have more time than I will know what to do with, I've decided to start this record for the following reasons:
* Alleviate boredom while sitting out my shifts in the Millennium Falcon's cockpit;
* Help me muddle through this intolerable situation without losing my mind; and
* Document evidence against Captain Solo if he ever tries to pull another stunt like the one he did back in the circuitry bay today!
Here's a quick status report of where things stand:
* Echo Base on Hoth has been overrun.
* The Rebel cell has scattered like so many cryanth seeds (I can only hope they're germinating).
* Luke Skywalker… (Dear Goddess, I'm worried about him!) His snowspeeder was shot down nothing more was heard before Captain Solo forcefully pulled me from the Command Center. I'm not sure if I'm ready to accept this yet. Some part of me is convinced he survived, so I'm guarding that hope carefully.
* All the troop transports stationed at the south cove got away; I was able to confirm this visually as we flew past, so that's something. I'm praying that Rieekan made it to his transport as well.
* Han Solo and Chewbacca have not in fact left. Indeed, they stayed longer than anyone in order to get me out — they're the reason I'm still here at all. We escaped on the Falcon, which is remarkable, all things considered. C3PO is with us as well. A motley group, but at least we've had some experience working together. When the credits are down, we make a good team. Well, except for 3PO, whom we've already had to turn off once. (Luke owes me for this!)
* The hyperdrive of the Falcon continues to malfunction even after multiple attempts to fix it. On top of this, the ship suffered significant damage from enemy fire and asteroid damage. (Yes, asteroids. Don't ask.) In my humble opinion, it's probably only a matter of time before we suffer some cataclysmic failure and that will be the end of it.
My impressions of the past day?
* I hate Imperials.
* I hate asteroids.
* I hate giant nasty space slugs.
* My impression of the Millennium Falcon isn't too charitable at the moment, as you've seen, but I'm still reserving severe judgment because while I've already had enough frights on this trip to set me for life, I am still alive. Although I am starting to wish I'd taken my chances in the snow on Hoth.
All right, that's a lie.
* I hate Hoth, probably more than all the rest combined. The cold never went away. After a while it felt like my body temperature had dropped so low I didn't think it would ever recover. I rarely slept — even when I could stop shivering long enough to relax, I was afraid that if I fell asleep I wouldn't wake up again!
Presently I'm in the spare cabin still trying to warm up, although the hot shower a little while ago has definitely helped. So has the spiced tea Chewbacca brewed up. (That was quite nice of him. More on Chewie later.) I'm now snuggled under two blankets and finally beginning to feel human again. I may not emerge until we reach Bespin.
By the way, Han is estimating that will take about 14 days.
That's right. The Alliance is careening out of control while I'm stuck on this old freighter for the next two weeks creeping along the edge of nowhere with Mr. I-Can't-Commit.
The mind boggles!
Because Han is rightly concerned something else might blow up or — Force forbid — we're attacked again, he's decided we need to start manning the cockpit in four-hour shifts. I get the feeling this arrangement will get old quickly.
He also decided I should be the first to get some rest (which was gallant of him), but I'm no more exhausted than either of them. I do wish he'd get it through his thick skull that I'm not fragile. I mean, if he'd only said that he and Chewie wanted to get started immediately on repairs while I took first shift off, I would have agreed with his logic. But no, he had to imply I NEEDED sleep. Naturally that resulted in an argument.
Goddess, I'm so tired of arguing with that man.
I've used this cabin before. It usually serves as storage space so it's a bit cramped and there's nothing for decorations or entertainment. It was while shifting things around in here to make it more livable that I found this datapad, and that's when I got the idea to write out my thoughts. I still need to think up a pass code and set this for private viewing — the last thing I need is a set of snoopy hazel eyes reading this. He thinks he knows so much about me already and I'd just as soon let him keep thinking that; it gives me the upper hand.
And yes, his eyes are hazel. Well, more of a grayish brown with gold melted in the center. (Don't ask.) It's a long story and I'm just too tired to get into it right now.
