Personal Log 7: 11th - 17th May, 3301
05 Sep 2016Jemine Caesar
11th - 17th May, 3301After an emotional reunion with my grandparents, I received an unexpected offer.
"My dear Jemine," said my grandpapa in his wonderfully lugubrious baritone voice. "My dear Jemine, your grandmama and I have discussed this, and we'd like you to come and live with us. We can provide you with a comfortable home, and, of course, our love."
I was deeply touched by their generosity, and it hurt me to have to refuse. My future, I explained, lay in the stars, on a quest to find Caz on Earth.
My grandmama was deeply disappointed. "In that case," she said, "I have a gift for you. This belonged to your mama, the only piece of jewellery she owned. It somehow managed to survive the explosion. She wanted you to have it."
It was a silver locket on a chain, with a star design on the lid. "Oh," I cried, "It's beautiful."
"When you open it," said Grandpapa, "It plays a holomessage from your mama."
"Then I'll view it later, if you don't mind," I said. "When I'm alone."
After a meal, and some reminiscences from my grandparents about their long careers as holovid actors, I returned to The Last Thing I Do.
Once safely alone in the cockpit of my ship, I activated the locket's holo-message. A tiny image of my mama appeared before me.
"My darling Jemine," (begins the locket's holo-image of my mama), "If you are listening to this, then it means that I have crossed the bridge. But please know that I will be watching over you always. Oh, I record this message every year, shortly before your birthday, but it doesn't get any easier. I love you, Jem, and I hope that you are finding happiness in whatever you are doing now. Jemine, there is something important I have to t--"
At that point the message cuts off, the locket's holo-data having become degraded, presumably in the explosion. I will never know what my mama wanted to tell me.
* * * * *
Much of the rest of the week was taken up in-system trading at Eravate, making profitable runs between Ackerman Market and Russell Ring. I exchanged k-cast calls with my friends Jopo, Stanchion Ra and MK, and made a new acquaintance in Marky G. One conversation with Marky included my admission of a liking for gin. "If you're in Eravate," Marky said, "You should try Toolfa gin & tonic at the Black Hole bar on Cleve Hub. It's delicious, but mildly hallucinogenic!"
Waiting in a docking queue at Potriti's Hartsfield Plant is a fairly common occurrence. It was during one such queue that I found myself giving advice about docking and trading to three pilots who were clearly all new to space travel. I almost sounded like a seasoned veteran!
After narrowly avoiding a collision with a Type 6 in the Cleve Hub slot, another thruster malfunction sent The Last Thing skidding all over the landing pad. "Come on!" I yelled at the controls. "What are you doing?" The controls didn't reply.
One step further towards my Sol permit was made when I completed a mission to deliver intelligence data to, of all places, LHS 3447. Handing over the package to a Navy officer at Yaping Enterprise, I was promoted to the rank of Midshipman. I asked the officer if I could please be called a Midshipwoman instead. The officer didn't look at all amused.
A trading trip to Ekonir took me into a battle with a Cobra III. The Last Thing didn't let me down, easily beating the pirate and taking no damage in return.
My last trade of the week was to take beer to Cleve Hub at Eravate. I signed off the delivery to a grateful buyer whose nasal rosacea suggested an enthusiasm for his job. Then, once I had changed out of my flight suit and into a comfortable dress and uncomfortable shoes, I headed for the Black Hole bar.
Toolfa gin, Marky had told me, is made from the reitza berry, which is found only in the Toolfa system. Its hallucinogenic effects commonly affect the senses of hearing, touch and smell, and vary in their actual manifestations from person to person. The sound of a man's voice whispering my name was a little creepy. The touch of a hand on my thigh was even creepier. But creepiest of all was the unmistakable aroma of rotting fish.