[EDIT] Vacations
24 Apr 2018Namita Pear
Hello!Having read the data poolside in New California (I prefer the urban attractions,) it was a wonderful discovery from the Hutton database that CMDR Namita Pear was the fastest traveler in the galaxy, over the prior week. Congratulations! I know you will eventually read this, Namita, and I have to say my week of chauffeuring you around nebulae that you barely looked at was a fine builder of the stress I am melting away down here. Did you know they have a sprawling museum of ballistic warfare? It's quite interesting to see how the ancient weapons of yore developed into the things I carried.
When will you get back and read this, I wonder? You must be on the cusp of Colonia by now. I think, at this point in time, I would not mind if you visited it without me. Being planetside is a luxury rarely afforded to us, and I am perfectly alright with spending a sizable portion of the millions I have siphoned from your fortune on it. I have a schedule to keep to keep down here, and I think your readers dislike my literacy, so I will keep this brief. If you irk at the thought of me clad in glistening swimwear as you jump from neutron to neutron, consider that I learn to make an exotic new drink every day!
Dum vivimus, vivamus.
//===========[EDITED:3304-04-23]===========\\
Yeah FUCK OFF Wade. I'm hot shit, and you're not. My name's getting read by a Lakon spokesman, yours isn't! I'll get to New California when I damn well want to, and I'll visit the attraction that lets me fuck your wife.
I have jumped seventy-six thousand light years over the past week. Sure, Wade has jumped about forty-five of them, but I've sat freezing my butt off in the cockpit for the past two (three?) days staring at every neutron star between here and Colonia.
For the record, I didn't even visit; it was pretty tempting, nebula and all, but I didn't want to do it without my trusty copilot. Next trip!
In truth these were my first jet-cone boosts of my career. Every light-year before now? All manual, baby. Before I started off, pulsars scared me almost as much as black holes did. They're poorly understood bodies of dead stars that do freaky things with gravity, and spit out hot radiation in regular doses. The few times I'd heard the warnings of my FSD going beyond her limits when a white dwarf happened to lick me with the furthest, invisible reaches of its blasts, I'd about soiled my Remlock and had to check through my readouts.
The first time I dipped in, I thought: "Wow, this sucks!"
Second time, I thought: "Yeah, this sucks!!"
"THIS SUCKS!!!"
It sucked. Your ship bucks like a bronco (whatever that is) and all your inputs just become suggestions as the cone knocks you around. You can feel the inoperable cancer licking at your shields and cockpit. Your whole vessel smells like melting wires for the duration, and if you get turned around there's a moment where you think you'll fly right into it and die. I had to learn fast the optimal moves for getting in and out, and to count the seconds along with the rising hum as my drive becomes one with the witch-space.
However, just as I felt like taking out the less-lethal we keep 'just in case' and knocking myself out with some focused voltage for the night, I would always jump to a reason not to.
Somehow, my route planner took me quite some distance below the galactic plane. At least one or two thousand light-years, I never really checked. Either way, it was the furthest I've yet to go over or under Sol's frame of reference. Each and every view was a new vista.
There was one specific point in my journey, a position where, unobstructed by the arms of galactic matter, I could look down towards Sagittarius A*. I could cast my view in any direction and discern an arm, or the various nebulae that surrounded me, visions thousands of light-years away. An endless sea of stars.
Nearing Colonia there is a veritable jungle of stellar bodies, and my name now rests on many blue-white giants, and more than a few white dwarfs, that I had come across. Water and Ammonia worlds bear my mark too, and I believe that any explorer wishing to improve their odds by sheer brute force would do well to visit the area.
My own interests lie above the pit-stops where I scooped fuel and scanned objects: the ceiling full of stars, bright white pinpricks that surround you and make you believe in heaven.
I'm back now. It sucked. I don't want to go out for quite a while now, and this is perhaps for the better; since my mother died, I have always been one to find a corner and enjoy it for fear of the crowds elsewhere. It's left me ignorant and an outcast, a lone wolf, but there was a good feeling when I hauled cargo for the Privateer's Alliance. I felt proud to look upon the ACS Overwatch, the military installation, the shipyard at Lyakhov. Data collected from distant worlds has new meaning and greater weight when donated (though the process kills my neurons) to Truckers and Wolves.
Independence will forever be my virtue, but I wish to stay for a little bit. Say hi to other people. Help out. Perhaps I won't go crazy over a shopping list that I swear must be important because it sits under a lock and key. It will give me time to outfit the Anaconda, and I wonder if I should purchase a Type 9 and enjoy the thrills of pirate interdiction during calls for aid.
We'll, of course, stick to our pledges made already. I have to kill a Thargoid or something after all for the fellow from Deciat.
Oh, yeah, I have to fuck your wife, too, Wade.
//===========[EDITED:3304-04-24]===========\\
Namita,
I do not have a wife, yet. Marry me?
CMDR Wade AlexanderManducare stercore et mori.