Logbook entry

Through a Sensor Darkly

04 Mar 2022Aurora Bael
"What, you tryna find Raxxla?" a young Lieutenant half laughs and half sneers into his mug. Cold amber slips down his gullet out of sight.
"Something like that," I say, and excuse myself politely so I can pack. I think a moment about smashing that mug over his skull and grinding the jagged edges into his eyes. I do not do it. I am in. I must stay. I play nice for another few hours. On my way out the door I hear the Emperor set a bounty out on those who held her captive. I cannot muster the energy to care.

Jump, scan, map, jump, land, search, find, sample. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. The work is tiresome and tedious but in it I find peace and hope and relief from a cycle spinning ever faster. I am going back in after one week away. One week among friends. One week of rest through work. I learn at an asteroid base deep in the black that Sirius Corp put a bounty on my head the day I left. 10,000 credits. I am mildly insulted. I wouldn't get out of bed for less than 500k. No wonder they're all such amateurs. I think of three corpses at Ray Gateway in Diaguandri and I giggle. I clearly haven't changed a bit.

It's over too soon. I'm back inside. Paimon's guns beat out death metal double bass as ship after ship after ship disintegrates before my eyes. The Feds are so bloodthirsty they're fighting other Feds. The survivors laugh about it together over drinks and swear they'll get each other next time. I join in with them. My mind is an overcharged FSD, racing between crossed purposes. Keeping all the plates spinning is exhausting. I do my third keg stand of the night and drag another sailor to bed just to cope. The next day, I recognize his callsign on a combat bond I'm turning in. That night I can't stop crying and I don't know why.

I buy a Python. It looks like a shoe and once I see it I can't unsee it. Thankfully, it flies much better than that. I borrow a few parts from Asmodai and decide this one's name is Lilith. A serpent at the bottom of the Garden. ...why the fuck are all these ships named after snakes? I run Tritium back to the carrier that took me out on an expedition. The owner smiles and shakes my hand and tells me he appreciates everything I'm doing for the squadron and hopes I'll be careful out there. I feel like throwing up. I am in. I must stay. Conrad's busted face laughs from just beyond the grave. He never stops laughing these days.

I fit Lilith for mining and spend days floating between rocks, cracking them open, dragging precious stones and metal up from inside. Lilith pays for herself before I even notice. The quiet serenity of the rings lul me to sleep while my limpets putter madly back and forth to claim my wealth. They are the real workers in this ring. I don't care about workers (I love the workers). All I care about is conquest (I have to stop this conquest). Zack Hudson will save (will damn) us all if we'll just give him a chance.

My CO calls the next day. "Where the fuck have you been, Bael? Get your narrow, clam-loving ass out there! We're losing!" (My contact isn't calling me, why the fuck isn't she calling me?)
"Sir, they're also Navy pilots. Lighten up."
He threatens to tear up the promotion he's considering me for if I talk to him like that again. I secretly wish he'd just courtmarshal me and get it over with so I can shove that brass straight down his windpipe. But I am in. And I must stay. So instead I yessir nosir sorrysir my way to Paimon's cockpit and light up the engines. Twelve more are dead before it's time to drink, this time alone in sterile station quarters. I pull the bugs from the lights and unplug the console and get to work on a good stiff drunk. Around three am unconsciousness finally takes me. I dream of ancient dragons and the knights who slew them. I am not the princess in this story. Sometimes I am the knight. Tonight, I am the dragon.

How many people choose this life? How many find this entertaining? Does the Dark Wheel feel ennui when faced with untold intervals of pretense and lies? Does Raxxla shine through a sensor darkly and would anyone know if they saw it? How many have flown past it?

I think about how much work it was to run Asmodai alone in the dark. About how much I flew by because I couldn't handle all the maintenance myself. I think that even with some hired help, I've gone too big to keep this ship afloat when the nearest docking bay is 12,000 ly away. I think about strafing Thargoids some day in her instead and I smile.

I set a buy order for an Asp Explorer and a course for a known hotspot full to bursting with crystal shards. Maybe next week, if the war is over, I'll get around to leaving for it.

"What, you looking for Raxxla?" the other explorer says with stars in his eyes and adventure in his heart. He says his name is Malcom Barrett. His eyes are so dark I'm reminded of Mintaka B.
"Something like that," I say with a smile, and hire him on the spot. By April first, we're setting out for Beagle point. And we won't be back until we're Elite.

See you in the Black,

-Rory
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