An unfortunate excursion to BLAA HYPAI KN-S E4-92
09 Sep 2020Panoptes-
Dear Han,Explorers can be awfully picky, but I've managed to find two independent groups of star aficionado's that solicited an excursion towards BLAA HYPAI KN-S E4-92. They all crave to see this one specific binary star constellation. It's 12679.2 Ly out from Neto, but I decided to lead the excursion in exchange for a combined total of 50 million space bucks. I've been longing to go out in the black anyways. What is the opposite of home sickness? I think they call it Wanderlust. Whatever they call it, I was suffering from it.
My sudden desire to plunge myself headlong in this excursion and to depart so abruptly probably explains the majority of what happened next. I did not want to leave my business for the Pixel Bandits in Neto unattended for too long, so my plan was to find a neutron highway to my destination. If I raced towards my destination, I'd have more time for impromptu cruising on the way home. It took some navigation to find the first few neutron stars, but from there on I had a relatively straight course. Even including two large passenger cabins, my trusted Ouroboros still had a boosted range of 252 Ly per jump, allowing me to reach my target in about 60 jumps. That was the plan. But even a good plan is worthless if executed poorly.
After having made steady progress for an evening, I did the obligatory maintenance check on my ship's modules, as neutron jumping takes its toll. The FSD's integrity had degraded to little over 80 percent. Nothing to worry about, but why postpone repairing it if I could do it there and then? I was looking for my auto field-maintenance units, but they were nowhere to be seen. Was space madness already kicking in? After searching for a while I had to face the truth of the matter: by leaving in a rush I had simply forgot to bring them. I had previously refitted Ouroboros for a short bout of long-range trading and now unthinkingly replaced the cargo racks with passenger cabins, completely forgetting that those module slots were normally taken by my AFMUs. My FSD integrity was not at all critical, but I was now robbed from the little sense of security we explorers have in deep space. If something were to happen to one of my modules, I would be in serious trouble. And in any case, taking a neutron highway was now out of the question. The prognosis for the amount of required jumps to target increased from about 60 to over 200.
At this point I was already 4000 Ly out, so a quick trip home was not going to happen. To undo my foolishness, I decided to reroute and find a location with repair services. I was determined to take no more shortcuts that would bite me in the ass later. My initial hope was to land at a fleet carrier (QZH-72B) that was parked in Blu Euq HA-A e24, as that was only 500Ly from my current location. But upon arrival, it consistently refused to grant me docking access. What are they afraid off so far out the Bubble, I wonder. Instead, I conceded that my detour would be significantly longer, and I set course to Morgan's Rock in the NGC 6188 Sector LC-V c2-28.
Morgan's Rock was beautifully situated in an asteroid belt of a class I gas giant. A sense of relief came over me: finally a safe haven. And besides, part of the joy of exploring is deviating from your plan and visiting places you would otherwise not have seen. But as I approached the station, a type 9 Lakon ship got stuck in the mailslot and was completely decimated by the station's defences. My ears were ringing from the explosion. Since the mailslot was now blocked by the charred carcass, I hung around the station to enjoy the view. In hindsight, I wonder how I could be so complacent right after having seen such a display of brute force by the local security. As I was enjoying the view, the security forces scanned me, and before I know it half of my passengers were completely disgruntled, demanding I would drop them off, thereby denying me any chance of getting paid. So not only the execution of my flight plan was poor, now even the original motivation of the trip was slipping away from under my nose. I do not understand why these explorers were so secretive, if they indeed were explorers and no space terrorists. I guess I was being paid that wealthy sum to not ask these kind of questions.
I was perfectly mad. I dropped of the "explorers" and started jumping like crazy. I just kept going, bewitched by my own rage. Until I came to a full stop, and all my ship's warning signals were beeping and flashing. I slowly came to my senses. What just happened?
On top of all my previous mistakes, I made the one lethal mistake no explorer should ever make. I ran out of fuel.
I started laughing maniacally, in disbelief of my own incompetence. This would be a fitting end to an excursion plagued by mishaps. Anaconda's are known to be great jumpers, but they surely slurp fuel greedily.
I took ten minutes to come to my senses before opening the galaxy map. But thank god! There was a scoopable star at a mere 1.5Ly distance. I made the jump and refuelled in a matter of seconds with Ouroboros' huge scoop. At this point, though, I felt like I'm cruising in bonus time. Everything that went wrong already went wrong, and I may as well enjoy the view while screwing up. I set course to the Cat's Paw nebula, which I had not visited before. When I reached it, its sublime sight made me forget my troubles.
I'm not sure what's next. In the backdrop of the Cat's Paw nebula I spotted this dark stain on the horizon, as if the stars in that area are flatulent. After some research I found out it is called the NGC 6357 nebula. As I got closer, I noticed it has translucent spots in the middle, through which the light of stars on its opposite site can reach my cockpit.
I can imagine you are worried after hearing about all this, but just be patient. I don't know how exactly I'll make it home, but I'll make it somehow.
Yours,
Panoptes-