Out Into the Black
13 Feb 2017Tarm Wallunga
So, been out of reach for a while. Off the grid. In a hole. Somewhere dark, perhaps. I don't know. Doesn't matter. I'm back. Kind of.
Hopped into Night Razor and flew out to Rhea. Swapped into the Wayfarer. New commission to run - galactic trade guides for the new bubble. Twenty-one thousand light years away, though. Screw it. Not nothing, but its a jaunt I can handle.
Five thousand light years later, and I'm thinking: Stare into the abyss and sometimes, it stares back at you. My abyss though - the big galactic bulge. A giant eye, staring me down. I stare back, of course. What else am I going to do? I still got 17kly to go.
But I have time to think. Maybe once I'm out there in new-bubble-land, I might stick around. New base of operations. Not thatI have anything against them Black Omega guys. And gals. Good bunch of people, so long as you don't piss em off, of course. I'm not dumb and I'm not naïve - hardened killers, slavers and wanna-be system lords. I don't wanna tussle with them. They pay good though, keep their word if you keep yours. I'm cool with that. Might be a future in that. But then this new-bubble-land, got to be a new land of new opportunities, right? New space, freshly colonized. So fresh, maybe they don't have all the things they want. Things they need. I can fill that.
But then I got to thinking more (there is a LOT of time on my hands, flitting between barely charted star systems, did I mention that already?). Maybe I could set up shop in this virgin snow of new-space. New shop, my shop. My name. My credits. And maybe keep tabs on Tjakiri - venture back and forth every now and again. Say hi. Drink. Swap stories. Maintain ties. Dirty becomes clean. A foot in the door in the new world for old friends.
The positive brain says "Nothing but golden opportunities". The sour brain says "Shut up, and keep scanning systems. We've a long way to go."
Me? I just sit back, let the comp pull data and crack another cold one. Hope I have enough to make it to Jacques.