Logbook entry

Collection of Blunders

A lot has happened since my last log. Haven't really known what to say.

Things got hot in the Bubble. Literally. I got an emergency distress call from Mackenzie Relay over in Cemeiss; turns out someone let a bomb off across a load of Empire stations, and they needed any pilots they could wrangle to help out in the evacuations. Way I see it, we've got an obligation to one another in times of emergency, regardless of personal values, so I fit the Intemperance for as many passengers as she could hold and got to work.

My time with the Gambit paid off immensely that day. The Intemperance is a whale of a ship, and she handles like a rock on ice, but I was able to navigate the fires, collapsing station architecture, and - greatest hazard of all - other pilots keen to help. The hardest thing in times like these is remaining calm. I was one of the bigger ships there, and would often have to wait my turn to get in or get out; wouldn't do anyone any good to have me wipe out three smaller rescue vessels just to get my own out of trouble. I guess I got lucky in the passengers I was picking up - or maybe Empire folk just have cooler heads than most - because I didn't have to suffer much complaining during the missions. I did have to pop more than a few heat sinks during the operation, mind, but I figured the refugees were better off not knowing about that...

I figured I done a good deed, and the Empire would round up the terrorists and we'd all be done with this. No such luck. Whole damn Bubble seems to have exploded; more than just stations getting bombed, it seems every day there's some article coming out about some assassination or murder or dire threat or another. Now, much as I wanna do good, I know what happens to mooks like me when powerful folk start plotting, so I decided that now was as good a time as any to get as far away as possible.

So, I get myself sorted and head out to the Collection of Wonders, as initially planned.

The trip itself, however, has not gone as planned.

I started off plotting routes through neutron stars, hoping to get out there as fast as possible. Managed a couple thousand light years like that, but honestly it all just got a bit much for me. There was a bizarre monotony to it, despite the inherent danger of hypercharging your FSD by taking a kick in the ass from a collapsed supergiant. I found it wearing my nerves, and decided the slow and safer route to be the wiser.

And it was. I hopped around in little 50LY bursts, scanning interesting things as I went... but, I dunno, 5,000 light years out now, and I think it's time to turn back. I'd heard a lot about space madness, and figured my work on Earth would act as some kind of inoculation against it, but this is a different beast altogether. I honestly don't know how all those explorers and pioneers did and continue to do it... just you, the humming of your boat, and the infinite black...

I hopped into one system, and damn near bundled directly into a brown dwarf. I saw it; I knew it was there; I knew it was dangerous; I knew I was approaching it's gravity well... but I just... I dunno, kinda zoned, I guess.

Wake up call thoroughly had, I've decided it's time to head home. Maybe things have calmed down a bit, maybe not, but anything's better than this. I'm thinking I'll actually head closer to my birth home than I've been for a long while. Time out here has me missing familiar stars, so maybe I'll check out the regions round Sol area. Might even get a permit and take a gander at that big blue marble while I'm there...

Flambard out.
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