January 5th, 2552 Identity
Pilot Katherine ‘Kat’ James Reporting
Sometimes I think I put that there just so I can remember who I am.
I am so tired of being called Convict 237. Then again it’s better than being called by the charges I was convicted of. The more I learn about my fellow consriptees, the more I wish I was allowed a private bunk.
I haven’t met all the convicts on the ship, just the ten in my group– we’re the conscriptees voted least likely to try and blow up the ship. It’s an interesting distinction, but at least they are making distinctions and trying to integrate us into the mission.
I can tell them that the hardest ones are going to be 223 and 232.
223… Mathers just needs someone to play angel on his shoulder and shoot the devil as soon as she shows up.
232 Crazy Ivan… our demolitions expert– I don’t know how he hid it, but he just wants to see the world burn and I don’t want to be there when he tries.
Andi, our musician’s great but since she was caught trying to garrote a man with a guitar string– she’s not as safe as she first seems.
It’s funny. The charges against me are what’s protecting me from my fellow untrustworthy trustees. I mean, getaway driver, you usually don’t expect much in the line of self-defense, but felony murderer… that gets you a little elbow room.
223’s asked for some programming books on the ship’s systems, which they were happy to provide.
I requested some classes on mechanics and craft design, and another on cooking. I was permitted access to the cook’s training, but the classes on mechanics were denied.
I had almost worked up a full head of righteous indignity when I got my new assignment. Instead of cleaning up the commissary between meals- I’ll be working with the ship’s mechanic, learning the trade first hand.