Kunlan Outpost Chronicles

Day 1: Arrival at the Trader Outpost

We touched down on the rocky surface of Kunlan this morning. The engines of the Wayfarer groaned in protest, their echoes swallowed by the vast silence that surrounded us. The sky was a deep slate gray, an oppressive blanket pressing down from above. Dust the color of rust coated everything, shifting with every step like it was alive. This world may not be barren, but the land here is unforgiving. And yet, here we are.

The trader outpost stood resilient against the stark terrain—a dome-shaped structure reinforced with plating that had clearly weathered countless storms. It’s the kind of place that whispers stories when the wind blows, tales of deals struck and fortunes lost. As I walked down the ramp, the crunch of gravel under my boots reminded me that even out here, light-years from Earth, we keep pushing forward.

Day 2: The Faces of the Outpost

The outpost was busier than I expected. Traders, miners, and drifters moved through the corridors, each one marked by the dust and stories they carried. I met Dax, the station’s chief mechanic, his hands rough and stained with oil and time. He’s seen it all—raiders, broken drives, betrayals—and he speaks of them with a dry laugh that hides more than it reveals.

“Welcome to the edge of nowhere,” he said, tightening a bolt on a maintenance rig. I noticed the scar running down his jaw, but didn’t ask. Later, over a shared flask of something that burned all the way down, he told me it was from a deal that went wrong. He smiled when he said it, but his eyes told a different story.

Day 4: Trade and Tensions

Trading on Kunlan is as harsh as its landscape. The merchants here are carved from the same stone they stand on, and every negotiation feels like combat. We came to sell rare alloy stock and secure medical supplies and purification units for the next run. A sect of Gliesean traders watched us closely—colonists and opportunists both—measuring our every move as if deciding whether we were competition or prey.

The deal was tense. Old Man Soren, the outpost’s lead trader, spoke with a rasp that could cut through hull plating. “This isn’t Earth, Captain,” he said, squinting. “Out here, you earn every drop.” He wasn’t bluffing. In the end, we traded half our alloys for what we needed. It was fair by Kunlan standards, which is to say, we didn’t lose everything.

Day 6: The Storm

They warned us about the storms, but words don’t do them justice. The sky darkened in an instant, as if the sun itself had been swallowed. Winds screamed across the outpost, hurling shards of dust that struck the walls like a thousand knives. We barely managed to secure the Wayfarer before visibility vanished completely.

Inside, the dome shook under the onslaught. The power flickered, plunging us into blackness for what felt like hours. I heard boots scraping metal, someone whispering a prayer, and Dax’s calm voice cutting through the chaos, guiding people to the emergency shelters. I gripped the flask Soren had given me and took a long pull. The heat in my throat was a small rebellion against the cold fury outside.

When the winds finally died, the silence hit like a weight. The world outside had changed—boulders shifted, paths erased, red dust draped over everything like a burial cloth. But the outpost still stood, scarred but unbroken, just like the people within it.

Day 8: Departure and Reflection

With the storm behind us and the deal done, it’s time to leave Kunlan. As I walk up the ramp of the Wayfarer, I turn for one last look at the outpost. It’s a small defiant speck against an endless ocean of rock and wind—a monument to the stubbornness that keeps humanity alive, no matter how far from home we stray.

“Ready for takeoff, Captain?” Javi’s voice crackles through the comm.

I glance back one final time at Dax and the others, their figures fading into the red horizon. “Ready,” I reply. The Wayfarer rises through the haze, engines rumbling, leaving the outpost and its stories behind for the next set of dreamers and drifters who dare to call Kunlan home.

— Journal of Captain Jenna Moran