Engineer's Log, Pepsonic Moondate 9489

My name is Quiltanor Tuile. I am an engineer stationed in the Mesostar colony orbiting Cuti 9. It has been roughly eight months since I arrived back in my home system of Cuti, and about six since my pardoning by the Cutian Empress & subsequent stationing here on the Mesostar.

Above me, at every waking moment, I hear the gunfire of the station's turrets. Despite my efforts to develop further defense technology the station is running out of material to work with and my brain is beginning to cloud due to the dwindling supply of oxygen since the destruction of the ecodome in sector-G.

My injuries are of course more than psychological, as stated in my... In hindsight quite disheveled previous log, I have lost my right arm after a scrap with the ground drones. I have no spare material to construct a mechanical arm in the meantime, though admittedly my affliction is likely just as taxing on the war effort as a minor addition to our great deficit of materials.

I have faced death in many forms, from my time in outer slapspace to my original escape from Cuti 5, though I must admit I have never felt so trapped. If this log is all that remains of myself, if it somehow outlives both me and this forsaken colony, know this: The Cuti-5 Extreme-Beach-Volleyball Global Semifinals were rigged, and I rigged them. This is my only regret.

This is Chief Engineer Quiltanor Tuile signing off,

Long live the Empress.

(End Communication)