Entry 001
19 Dec 2020EpicAce
It wasn't until recently I decided to keep a journal and keep track of my gallivanting around the stars. It was at least 2 years ago I set off among so many other ambitious, hopeful stargoers.Start out in a Sidewinder, get used to the controls, temper the feeling of immortality just long enough to get fried by bigger fish than you. The works.
Nowadays, I'm only liable to get killed from the best of the best. Cold comfort when you're clutching the pilot's seat, hopeful for dear life that the auto-eject wasn't damaged. But at least those assholes have to work for their kill now.
It makes sense in hindsight that in order to keep your ship maintained and stocked up, and outfitted with the bleeding edge that you'd have to step out of your own personal bubble and interact with people. Schmooze the locals, establish and network with known names. I just wish they told us that in flight school. I ran to the uncaring void to get away from it all, not to get back into it. I had thought I could leave all my social skills back in first orbital station you take off from. But I suppose life still finds a way to make you suffer, even if you fling yourself light years away from your home.
Back to the present. Running some mats from the Guardian sites, sourcing other mats for Tech Brokers. Don't even know why they need this stuff personally. Can't I just throw money at them to develop me the high-end gear I need for xeno hunting? I had to leave my nicely-engineered, top of the line Corvette to run an Anaconda to haul expensive goods around, at risk of being pirated, simply because my Corvette didn't have the space. Well it could've but I wasn't keen on spending so many hours and money to downgrade my best ship temporarily.