Entry Number 050603A

My head lulled from side to side as I heard muffled talking a few steps in front of me. My body was pressed into a small cubicle in the corner of the main control room, so it was safe to say that getting a cramp in my neck by being curled up around a thin sheet so I don't freeze to death was an understatement of sorts.

I pushed myself off the wall and blinked a few times hazily; the ship was still dark and it was filled only with the faint hisses of vapors coming from the mechanics bay and the colorful panels lighting on and off as they pleased, making me divert my eyes from the sight. I instead focused on the figure sitting in the co-pilot chair, arms crossed over his chest and legs swaying from the side. I figured it was Navaien, while I couldn't for the life of me locate the two others of our travelling circus.

Pulling the blanket with me, I walked towards the panel and discovered the source of the small whispers I had heard in my dream. The intercom that was connected to Navaien's ear piece was still on and the woman on the other side was transmitting coordinates with no apparent reason back to a dozed off pilot. Upon further inspection, I noticed he had left the noise on repeat so he drowns out the blank vastness of the quiet inside his ears. I understood why he felt the need to block off the silence, it became rather suffocating when you're left alone with your thoughts in a space ship going less than a mile per second. I grunted, realizing that we'd never get anywhere with this speed. Tracking the map on the screen I saw that we were at least 6 more hours away from Cantonica.

I turned to observe Navaien away, all tucked up into his own blanket and his head turned to the side as he slept. His eyes were moving but I noticed that he wasn't awake because of the fact that he didn't feel my snapping in front of his face. He was in REM sleeping.

I took a seat in the empty pilot one and stared at all the buttons, before popping open one of the drawers underneath the panels. I was a bit scared to push my hand inside as it was quite dusty and the wires made strange noises when my fingers came in contact, but I bit through the fear and grabbed the ship manual.

It was dusty and yellowed, as usually pilots didn't even know that this compartment hosted something in case of emergency needs. I flipped through the thick manual, coughing into my elbow before I reached the "Programming, Routes and Coordinates" sector.

"To change the speed and route of a ship, to slip from auto to manual, blah blah.." I mumbled to myself, before hovering my fingers over the correctly coloured keypad. I bit my lip. I'm fluent in Aurebesh, why am I scared that I'll mess it up? Getting a shorter voyage will benefit us, after all.