Personal Log, 22.11.111

I saved a Federal politician today.

I didn't mean to. We had just secured the field after destroying an enemy ship. I had pulled alongside the enemy wreck, searching for any usable equipment amongst the wreckage, and before I knew it I was getting communications from my crew that Senator Bigshot was on board and wondering who to thank for his salvation.

I told him to answer in whatever way would shut the man up, as I really had no interest in talking to some self-promoting asshole.

An hour later the worthless bastard had managed to get a comm line with which to annoy me. It took me a couple moments to formulate a response. I don't think he appreciated me cutting him off, or disconnecting his communication systems seconds after telling him to shut the hell up. Of course I really don't care about his feelings.

Five minutes later the son of a bitch was back on the comm system, from the bridge. Apparently he had bullied his way up there, using his position as a senator to force my crewers to let him have access to places I sure as hell never authorized him to enter. I think he was trying to thank me, yell at me for cutting him off earlier, and convince me of how important he was all at the same time. I wasn't really listening so I can't be sure. I did come to a decision though. I concluded that he needed to learn a lesson.

I had him thrown in an airlock. That really irritated him. Threats, begging, bargaining; he ran the gambit of persuasion in less that five minutes. The inner lock was sealed, and I initiated a very slow leak of the air inside. I hoped he would begin to understand what the people in his jurisdiction were living with everyday. Alive, but wondering every moment if some faceless person would decide that instant was to be your last. I wanted him to learn the terror of having absolutely no control over his continued life, just like the people he was supposed to be serving felt.

He had gone very quiet by the time we pulled into dock in Villore. I knew he had not asphyxiated, because the oxygen levels were still well within safety limits; but I did wonder if he had maybe succumbed to cardiac arrest. The fat bastard did weigh 147kg after all. I can't say the issue worried me. It was rather, more of a curiosity.

I popped the outer lock as the ship was secured in the docking bay, and my crew rolled him out onto the deck to wait for the emergency crews that were on their way.... to what I had told them was a low priority call. We left before they had arrived.

Apparently one of my crewers had checked on his condition before we jumped out of the system. He informed me that the Honorable Shithead had simply fainted, and wet himself. And that brought a smile to my face.