Entry 1
Vesta was… lucrative. It turns out their mining drones have been having trouble with their optics, and they needed a lot of our high-definition lenses. I finally offloaded those from the Hydra. I have no idea why Vesta hadnt made a call for these for three cycles; they were practically fighting over them. They also took almost all of our spare power regulators. The Mule was quick to secure a trade for refined durasteel, which is always a stable commodity. The Phoenix offloaded some of the remaining Sunstones, this time at a decent price; seems my reputation for quality precedes me now.
It was a less argumentative trading day overall. Spent less time in the negotiation stalls, and more time overseeing the transfer of goods, which felt like a relief. I did manage to unload that crate of what I thought was glow-in-the-dark moss. Turns out one of the Vesta mining engineers is an avid terrarium collector. I’ll have to remember that detail for future visits.
The Hydra is still giving me a headache. We're still carrying:
* 17 bolts of synthesized silk
* 6 pairs of gravity boots,
* 3 sonic harmonizers
* 4 bio-luminescent terrarium display cases
* 12 portable weather domes
* 3 energy shielding generators
* 8 personalized nutrient dispensers
* 2 crates of recreational scent cartridges (lavender and pine)
* 5 automatic tea-brewing units
* 10 magnetic tool attachments
* 1 crate of refurbished datapads
* 7 hydroponic fertilizer packs
* 9 laser-etched glass sculptures
* 2 sets of navigation charts (outdated, unfortunately)
* 6 self-cleaning cooking utensils
* 4 medical trauma kits
* 1 anti-gravity hoverboard
* 1 portable holographic projector
* 12 packets of dried space fruit
* 1 crate of 'rare' blue-hued space rock specimens
Tomorrow, we're plotting a course for the Aethel Refinery. I'm hoping they'll be interested in some of our tech pieces. A man can dream, right? I need this unsold cargo gone. I've reconfigured the Hydra's cargo bay one last time for better access tomorrow. It’s almost like the ship is laughing at me with its excess space, mocking my efforts. I need rest. Tomorrow will be another long one.
Entry 2
The chronometer clicked past midnight cycles a while ago, but I'm still keyed up. What a day. The network swallowed me whole. I tell you, the hyper-net is a labyrinth designed to test a merchant's patience. I spent the entire solar cycle online, uploading, categorizing, re-tagging… it felt like I was wrestling space kraken made of code.
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First, I tackled the individual listings. I swear, every single bolt of that synthesized silk needed its own photo and description. Seventeen of them! At least the shimmer and texture translated well through the holo-capture. Then came the gravity boots. Six pairs, each requiring specific size specs, and power cell compatibility notes, and every potential buyer needed to know the lift capacity, of course. By the time I finished with the sonic harmonizers, my fingers were practically vibrating with the effort.
I had all this stock, a mixture of the useful and the, let's say, 'unique'. There were the bio-luminescent terrarium display cases, thankfully they were pre-programmed with the most popular biomes, so that simplified the details, but each one required three different viewing angles. The portable weather domes were bulky to illustrate, so I used a pre-recorded simulation video for each. The energy shielding generators were a headache, of course. I had to explain the energy output versus recharge time in 13 different dialects. The nutrient dispensers were surprisingly popular, everyone wants to optimize their dietary intake. The scent cartridges went quickly, though I had a brief debate with a buyer about the merits of lavender versus pine on a deep space freighter.
It went on and on. Every single item, a mini-project. The automatic tea brewing units - a surprisingly good seller, the magnetic tool attachments which I had a lot of, the refurbished datapads, a decent job - the hydroponic fertilizer packs, which I ended up selling the lot to a single buyer who was a gardening enthusiast, which was a bonus. The laser-etched sculptures, gorgeous, but I was worried no one would bother. There were the old navigation charts, which I sold with all the disclaimers, and a set of self-cleaning cooking utensils which had a short but intense bidding war. I got a good price for the trauma kits, thankfully, and the anti-gravity hoverboard sold very quickly to a young crew member, I think he was from the asteroid belt. The holographic projector went to a collector who was more interested in the vintage model than the practicality of it. And then the 12 packets of dried space fruit were surprisingly popular, as was the last item, the crate of "rare" blue-hued space rock specimens.
The worst part wasn’t the uploading, but the actual sales. Each transaction required its own dance of haggling. Someone always wanted a better price, or a bulk discount. They'd try and catch me out on a technicality, like the energy cell warranty on the hoverboard. It was exhausting. By the time the last sale went through, I swear I could see the net itself sighing in relief.
But… I did it. Everything— every single item— gone. The credits are now safely routed to my account. And even though my brain feels like it’s been through a fusion reactor, I can’t help but feel a strange satisfaction. The junk from the last run has been converted into actual value. Tomorrow, I'll be looking for a new haul, and I'll try to not be quite so optimistic about the speed of these sales. Now, I need sleep. The hum of the ship feels louder than usual, or maybe it's just me.