Me Vexat Pede
17 Apr 2018Namita Pear
Hello, everyone. This entry is written by CMDR Wade Alexander. CMDR Namita Pear is indisposed, and wishes for me to keep you all abreast of our journey for the moment.
I believe she has touched upon me in earlier entries, but while getting acclimated with her writing tools I came across my old description when she first hired me. It will serve as a good enough introduction for our purposes.
Our travels began with a full refit and repaint of the Yes I Am Happy, which I immediately broke in with the superstitious trip to Hutton Orbital. There we acquired gin and mugs to be dropped off at our embark point, Shosuke Terminal. These and the far greater distances ahead pass us by slowly, so I will focus on the important portions in my description.
We are currently 8,000LY into our journey, resting at New Beginning. It is an asteroid dock in the Rosette Sector, CQ-Y d59, that lies within the nebula of the same name. It is (and therefore we are) some 5,000LY from Sol, and the starsphere is awash in a purplish, rosy tinge that drowns out many surrounding stars other than the nearby clusters of blue-white supergiants. The view, then, becomes a painter's dream with swathes of bright and cloudy glow pushing through from the galactic plane; the penetrating stars making a Jacob's Ladder for you to connect the dots with. Quite beautiful, and by far my favorite one of the three we have visited thus far. Below, Rosette Nebula.
First came the Jellyfish Nebula, as per Pear's notes. I question how close its appearance is to the real Earth gelatinous animal, as while I've never seen one in person it seems too definite a creature to base the swirling interstellar vapor on. Of course, the same heavenly simplicity of motion is implied in both the massive body and the aquatic animal. The journey along the way was nearly as exciting as the visit to it and its resident outpost, Beta Site: the first wholly virgin star system was discovered nearly halfway along the route. While it was comprised simply of an average main-sequence star and several rocky ice worlds, a first is a first, though our journey is young and I have discovered several more during my manning of the helm. Below, Jellyfish Nebula.
Second, the Monkey's Head, at which I can only scratch my head and imagine the circumstances an ancient astronomer would be in to see the namesake. It is rather 'average' in CMDR Pear's words, and I am inclined to agree. Without any human habitation nearby, we spent little time other than to line up the camera limpet before ricocheting off of the nebula towards the Rosette Nebula. Two other undiscovered systems of note were come upon this time as well, both containing pristine water worlds which gave quite the prestigious bonus when I finalized the scan at New Beginning. Below, Monkey's Head.
In reading the CMDR's entries I noted an emotional (I hesitate to deem her writing as 'philosophical' as she does) element. To follow suit I'll also appraise the reader of our current situation.
If the reader is sentient, they will realize CMDR Namita Pear is not penning this entry. I choose to describe her current mood as 'timeworn'. Though she advantages herself by being in the prime of unaided life while I begin my 40s, she has lately the energy and attitude of an annoyed, old woman.
Nearly a week ago, the search algorithm in our background scanner detected a standard plaintext, common protocol message. To it, and Namita, the smoking gun was in sentence structure and minor punctuation. It enticed her though she continued with regular duties as we spent the time preparing mentally and physically for this 'expedition'.
Several days earlier the scanner detected another message, of similar structure. At this point, Namita became obsessed. Why? You see, the messages themselves were encoded. I feel no such urge but it eats away at her very heart that she has stumbled upon ciphered messages that simply happened to pass the errant stream of data which constantly flows through our ship from navigation and communication buoys. The CMDR spends her time, now, tapping away at her personal computer slate as she attempts another angle of investigation, or seeks a 'break' that doesn't let her stray too far from the task at hand. She is more interested in staring at garbled, garbage letters than conversation, food prep, or even to an extent bathing.
Cleaning yourself in zero gravity in such tight quarters is hardly a comfortable task, but I don't wish to spend this trip constantly encouraging my silent friend to take a damn shower.
I have piloted the Yes I Am Happy during this entire excursion and I likely will for the foreseeable future. I am of course compensated and we get along, but it is odd not sitting in the belowdeck control seat. Now, instead of driving myself crazy keeping an eye on CMDR Pear's piloting, I find boredom getting to me instead. The old adage 'ad astra per aspera' remains as true as the day Humanity began its clawing at the exosphere, and I have none of the 'explorer madness' symptoms, but I wish I had somebody to talk to during the witchspace jumps.
The music recordings stale, I cannot focus long on the novels I have brought with me, and one simply fails to advance advance ad infinitum in the culinary arts with our weightlessness.
To rebuke, might I say this has all helped? I will hear no words from CMDR Pear's adoring fans (which she continues to argue for the existence of) but the act of writing is therapeutic. At least, typing it all out feels a more permanent therapy than visiting the same topics in my thoughts.
We will continue our trek for the remainder of the week. Hopefully, all will return to how it was ante discordiam and I will have the partner I've been missing, and not fill the already bloated Galnet with more ramblings. The above has been written by CMDR Wade Alexander for CMDR Namita Pear. A prayer and a wish to fly safe to all who read it.
Esse quam videri.