MAXIOM Transmission
Fitting-out crews were in the drafting hall again today, chalk dust settling over three separate arguments about who owns the space between decks. Nobody won. Everybody's right, is the trouble — the corridor a bunkmate calls home is the same corridor the quartermaster calls storage, and both of them are correct depending which watch you ask.
I logged it anyway. Somewhere in that argument is the shape of how we're going to live in here for the next twenty years, and it's worth writing down while it's still an argument and not yet a wall.
Word came through the long relay too — something about new tooling from beyond the Veil. Whether it holds is a question for another log.