Maybe Space Cabbages SHOULD Run The Galaxy
19 May 2018Roober the Stroober
If you want to get an idea of just how big this galaxy is just line up a survey mission, knock out 25 waypoints, then check your progress on the map. I had been jumping in and out of systems for over 4 hours and let's just say, if the galaxy had a paint job, I wasn't going to be scratching it any time soon.What I'm starting to understand all too well though is - that people who turn to a life of crime, by and large, must have been dropped on their heads when they were born! Now I understand that it's really difficult to do that in a zero-g birthing lounge, but someone is finding a way to make it happen because I think that's where most pirates come from.
Sure, I'll admit I was a bit relieved when UC called me and said, "Hey! We've been monitoring your progress and you're doing great! However, our insurance company is kinduva jerk about surveyors being out on the job so long that they pose a loss risk for all the data they've collected. Soooo, we need you to head to the nearest starport and dump what you got."
Now you have to understand, I'm out in the middle of no-friggin-where, minding my own business. Heck, the last pirate I saw was 30 systems back and he was just some Gomer that probably didn't have the sense God gave most of these rocks out here. I mean just how many fat-stacking trade routes do you see running through the Wregoe sector anyway? I'll give you a hint, listen for crickets chirping...
My first thought was, "Great. I have a better chance of getting shot up by pirates in populated space that I do running into a planet out here in the "sticks." But, they call the ball, so I set course for the nearest station.
Sure enough, I ended up with butt-lock for the next three systems, fighting my way through interdictions, flying like a maniac right through the middle of some stupid civil war, and EVERY friggin nav beacon is compromised. Ugh! And when I DO make it to a station with a cartographic office it's filled with a group of crazies in purple robes chanting about the end of humanity and, "Here, take this pill and get it over with." At least I didn't run into any space-cabbage 'goids on the way in.
But - an eight figure pay-out always seem to make everything okay. I'm going to find a hot meal, a hot shower with real water, and a firm mattress that's more that an inch thick. Then I'm getting the heck out of Dodge and back to some peace and quiet.
No people? No problem...