Captain’s log – August 18, 2217

Command HQ is a large gaggle of addled, brain dead, ignorant pencil-pushers who have never done an honest day’s work in their lives!

This includes my wife who set up this damned crew roster. Could they have possibly found me a worse crew to deal with?

My first officer can’t stand me. He thinks he can command better than I can, and he’s slowly trying to turn the crew against me. He thinks I don’t know, but I do. And, no, that’s not paranoia talking. He told me so, to my face!

He’s got balls, I’ll give him that.

The ship’s cook thinks he’s a gourmet chef. The bastard couldn’t reheat leftovers and have it come out right. Half the crew brought their own non-perishables on board at our last restock before leaving our Crab Nebula outpost so they could avoid food poisoning. I swear he does it on purpose!

And don’t get me started on the engineer! He thinks were on the Santa Maria and I’m Columbus.

If I get back to Earth, I swear, I’m going to shoot someone.

End log.