First Time for Everything
11 Apr 2021Kryonys
Sitting in a cockpit, seeing the empty black surround you, engulf you, minimize you; knowing that your are but a speck in a vast, seemingly unending expanse; feeling the cold dark crawl endlessly across your skin; hearing every creak and groan of metal as your hurdle through the deep void of space; it just never seemed like a feeling to be put into words. It was an experience. A life changing, soul piercing, existence questioning phenomenon sitting behind the cold metal controls of a ship capable of taking man across vast stretches of our galaxy. Something humankind had been doing for centuries to this point, something so commonplace that most saw it more a burden than a blessing. Even typing this now, I can't find the words to truly describe being alone in deep space, being the first living being to ever lay eyes on the planets, stars and what else might be lurking in whatever system caught your eye. There is no feeling like pulling up your charts and knowing that home isn't just a quick hop away, but across a stretch of space and time that few men in history will every have the experience of running. Capturing that feeling in a log book just never seemed quite whole and truth be told, I still don't think you can, and yet I find myself here, rambling on about something infinitely more empty than full. I guess that's the rub though right, the draw to the black, knowing it is more empty yet still finding that rare gem hidden in a dark corner.My father never had that itch, he never felt the pull, he would say he saw what "the black" did to people. He would tell me stories about the hollow looks, the empty vessels of skin that the black turned pilots into. He was an old traditionalist, whatever that meant to someone living on a space station, that didn't see the allure of space. He was content to turn a wrench, fire a plasma cutter and eat a dinner at the table with his family each night. I couldn't have been more different. I had the bug (not a thargoid, that would be silly) to see what the expanse had for me. Maybe it was nothing but I had to know, I had to try to find my hidden gem. He spent years teaching me to work on the ships that would pass through in hopes that the stories I would hear from the wayward adventurers would fill my sense of wonder or scare me out of it. Neither worked and as I grew older he could sense it I think. He still always pushed me away from space but being older now, I just didn't recognize that he had given in to me becoming a spacefarer by the time I had reached my teen years. He would never admit it to me himself before he passed, words weren't his strong suit and he wasn't one to talk much, he was a man content to let his actions speak for him. I was just 20 years old when he passed, certainly not a child but by no means a man and now I would be tasked with running his shop and taking care of the family. But that wasn't dad's plan. No, he had been saving and planning for decades. Mom and him were going to settle planetside on the beach, something he had surprised mom with shortly before passing. No more wrenching, no more labor, no more bad pirate stories from drunken Imperial numpties, it was time for mom and him to enjoy planet life. And for me, the biggest shock of them all: my very own Faulcon DeLacy Sidewinder Mk1. Mom said he had spent years saving and working through contacts to get me this ship, she said he found it amusing that as she and him were about to ground themselves planetside while shooting me off in the opposite direction. He knew my dreams and spent his life making sure I truly wanted to reach for the stars and before he left us, he made sure I got to. Mom went planetside just like the plan and I shot off to the stars, the man's action speaking louder than any words could.
It's been over a decade since he passed. I've collected ships he would be in amazement of, ships larger than anything dad could have every imagined. I've spent countless hours wandering through the dark, seeing things no man has before, pushing myself to extremes man may have never though possible. From passenger runs at Robigo in my first Dolphin, to defending mining sites in Valtam in a Chieftain, to realizing the prowess and beauty of the Krait sisters and science expeditions in the mighty Anaconda, I have experienced more than I ever deserved. But I still own that Sidewinder. Not because I fly it often, not because it is exceptional for anything in particular. No, I keep it because of what it represents. Something more than words can say. Something more than pictures can show. Something more than a story can tell. It represents a feeling. A feeling each Commander knows but deep down can't quite describe just right because in the end, it is a feeling unto its own.