Hanging some Christmas lights in the cockpit this season. They shine as much as the stars.

I missed my DBX. It's fast, its agile, and I have an incredible drive on it.

Five jumps, and I'm almost completely outside the border of the bubble already.

Where to? The rim? The core?

I'm going in a direction I've never been.

I have to get out of the bubble for a while. This new discovery stuff needs to grow on me, and the only way it will is being in the black.

Another one in the bag.

I really need to consider befriending some engineers. Felicity and me go way back, but there's so many, and almost none of them know me.

I feel as if I should be worrying about my ship's potential now, instead of just having a ship.

Or, do I want a mamba?

That was a very, very expensive docking mistake. At least they didn't open fire on my way out.

This fucking ship is too big.

Making some simple runs to Polyakov, doing My Part for the community and trying to get used to a ship this large.

I feel a bit foolish. 14 tons of cargo in a hold designed to carry hundreds.

I will never, ever question the value of auto-dock though. What a stress-reliever.

Of course.

Of COURSE luxury goods are at stations almost 200k Ls from jump-in. Why can't a community goal want something convenient? Why do they need truffles and wine?

I remember how long I spent in the black to get back here, then finding out the bubble was on burning and everyone was desperate to play soldier.

I made a lot of money exploring, and I'd certainly like to get back to that. I wish I could engineer this beast to take me out there, but it's cumbersome, and heavy, and far better suited for more commercial roles.

But still.
Anaconda with a long-distance jump? I can dream.

I'll play the community goal game for now. Get back into local politics.

Docked, getting back to the business of my Anaconda.

It needs a lot of work, which means a lot of money. Money I don't really have.


God, I hate sitting around, scanning wakes.

Nine months drifting before the sleeve support systems turned over, and here I am.

Nine months in a long, elliptic orbit around Zoline Port. Nine months, technically dead.

And here I am.
Are we all deathless now? Our ships burn and we vaporize in space, or in stars, or to thargoid fire, and poof; we come back.

My support systems died. My sleeve lost power. Poof; I'm back.

The future is long.

The speed at which I can cover 2500 ly is frankly astonishing. And I know, I KNOW, this is still nowhere near my limit.

If I ever wind up back in the bubble (if it's even still there) I'm going to start engineering this ship for distance. I'll go further. I can go further.


I'll stop by, for sure. I'm taking the low road from Colonia, still about 4kly away.


Oh that's not far from Sag A*

I'm heading that way myself, I think I'll stop by.

I'm deep into the black. I don't know how many days I've been jumping closer to sag a*, detouring off in random directions, scoop, honk, and boom on.

I found a world, perfect for me. Rich atmosphere, life, perfect length of day. I made a note, considered landing, thought better of it.

II may have never left, and I have a mission. A goal, more like.

Scoop, boom on.

A forgettable rock in orbit around a forgettable rock. The star, generic, yellow, and indifferent to my presence.

I'm staring at mountains, now. Towering jagged and fierce in low gravity, never knowing shadow. It's hot, and my life support struggles to manage the heat.

Thousands of ly from Colonia. Tens of thousands from Sol; an ancestral home I can't legally approach.

These mountains predate the Earth, and will persist long after it's gone.

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