0100 hours - No sign of life on the horizon. Just the steady hum of the universe echoing through the darkness. The ship stays its course navigating alone in a sea of empty space. Why did I choose this life of lonely adventuring?

0300 hours - The witching hour. That time of night when past the hull of my corrugated vessel comes the haunting sounds of invisible beasts. Their roars rattle me to the bones, and sound a like a vacuum turned on at full blast. No, more like the sound of any bear. Mercy on us all should they ever decide to wake up and find us.

0400 hours - Consulted with my second-in-command, Captain Teddy "Ursus" Rogers, on the nature of hour mission, exploring the bleak and empty universe. I asked him if he ever gets lonely. He says all he has to do is tug on his heartstrings and he can hear the sound of home in his mind. I wanted to debate him further on the ease of this comfort, but some sudden thuds in the distance made us cut our conversation short.

0600 hours - We passed under starlight, soft rays of yellow like bouncing off our ship. We both slept through our watch, leaving our defenses down in an enemy galaxy quadrant. I hear the sounds of an armada approaching, like tiny anvils on a tin drum, as we scrambled to move our ship out of view.

0700 hours - After an eternity of the enemy blaring their sirens, the unimaginable has happened: They've woken one of the beasts! In the fresh rays from the nearby star I observed it in detail: long and gangly, with striped, billow flesh and lanky limbs. I stare at it in awe but try to remain hidden. But Teddy points out a potential flaw: Our invisibility shield is only half closed. How could we be so careless!

0800 hours - Grounded for staying up all night playing in the empty moving boxes. Again.