On going home
11 Aug 2016Roehl Debruys
In these last few thousand light years, my sensors have picked up the signals from several ship wrecks floating in space. What all have had in common is that there's been some survey data canisters among the wreckage, and that the systems where these expeditions seemingly met their end had ammonia worlds. Except for the last one, I think at least, where there was no such planet, but on the other hand an earth-like.Going over the flight logs from this trip, I just realised that these silently spinning pieces of twisted metal are the only traces of civilization I've seen since almost eight months ago. That's how long I've been away. Though I knew it had been that long, I did not fully realise, if that makes any sense.
However, one must not confuse time with distance, at least not as measured in meters. Most of the travelling during these months was done in mind rather than space. In other words, I've put the library pad I brought to good use. A good thing it is, for otherwise I would have found myself with a ship in dire need of repairs already somewhere on the other side of the galaxy.
As it is, I have but a few thousand light years to cover before my foot may once again grace with it's tread the ground where others have already gone before me. Better yet, I could dock at (or more likely smack into) some agricultural station, sell the data collected so far, and then get myself a properly cooked meal, while someone else oversees the repairs of the Song.
Returning from some faraway system is often spoken of as "going home", but I find myself not being able to come to terms with... the term. Before I made my first expeditions, I remember thinking of the vast star fields outside of populated space as overwhelmingly intimidating. I had this image of swimming in the middle of a sea stretching far beyond all horizons, deeper than possible to imagine or reach even in death, with nothing to keep me afloat. It turned out to be something else entirely. Now, it is indeed the other way around. Going home feels more like leaving it.