Entry 1 The hum of the Phoenix is almost a lullaby today. Engines purring steady, life support doing its thing, and me… well, I’m just here. Been a while since a day like this, a real honest-to-goodness quiet day. Last few weeks were a blur of haggling on Cyrillus Prime, dodging asteroid fields by the skin of my teeth, and then a rather… volatile negotiation with those slug-like beings on Xylos. I feel like I haven’t had a solid breath in weeks.

Today? Nothing. Zip. Nada. The comms are silent, the cargo hold is thankfully full and secured, and even the navigational computer seems to be taking a nap. I haven’t even bothered to check the market reports - the idea of thinking about credits right now is enough to make my head swim. I brewed a pot of that synthetic space-coffee, you know, the one that tastes vaguely like burnt caramel and regret, and settled into my bunk. Just listened to the low thrum of the ship and the faint hiss of recycled air. It was… nice. Surprisingly so.

I wonder when "nice" became a novelty.

Entry 2

Woke up to the same comforting silence. Decided to be productive-ish and did a quick inventory of the hydroponics bay. The genetically-modified space tomatoes are thriving, more than I can say for myself some days. I even spotted a tiny bud on one of the spice plants - I’m still not entirely sure how that thing is alive in zero-g. It’s a testament to the genius (and desperation) of early space agriculture, I suppose.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Then I did something almost unheard of for me – I tuned into the deep space radio. You never know what you'll find. Today it was a station broadcasting old Earth music from, I think, the 20th century? Something called "bluegrass." A series of stringed instruments playing with incredible speed. It was… odd. So different from the synthesized beats and drone music most folks listen to out here. It made me think about earth, about forests, about things I can't even really remember. I listened for a good few hours, letting the strange sound fill the ship, almost like a phantom crew jamming in the galley.

Entry 3

The quiet stretches out, almost palpable now. I'm starting to get… used to it. Maybe a little too used to it. I’ve been going through the old data logs, the ones I’ve collected from various trading runs over the last few years. I stumbled across some holos from a market fair on the Outer Rim, faces I can barely place anymore. It’s strange to see myself laughing in the holo, surrounded by the chaotic energy of a busy marketplace. Feels like a lifetime ago.

The radio was playing what I think was an old romance today. They used to make these stories about falling in love, all poetic speeches and dramatic gestures. It’s almost comical how much it differs from the gruff exchanges and transactional relationships you usually get out here. I wonder if any of those old feelings still exist, out here amongst the stars. Probably not. Still, it's entertaining to listen to.

I think… I think I’ll listen to the radio again tomorrow. Maybe I’ll even try that burned caramel space-coffee again. Though, I really miss the taste of real coffee.

The Phoenix is a good ship. A quiet ship. For now, that’s exactly what I need.

Entry 4

Comms flickered to life - a distress signal. A small freighter, way off course. Seems like the quiet is over. Time to get back to work…