Back in the Bubble
09 Dec 2015Monolith Preacher
So long story short I made it back in one piece. Short story long...I by the time I'd crossed the Norma Expanse, I'd stopped scanning anything that even remotely resembled a red dwarf. Sure, I might've missed out on a few worlds on the way, but after eight dwarves in a row you start to lose patience. By the time I'd passed Daughter's Reach, I'd stopped scanning entirely. There's a reason for this, and it's the same reason most routes cut the map 'twixt it and the Stargate, more commonly known as NGC 6357 α.
This reason is witch-space. Back in the bubble, you spend maybe ten to twenty seconds in there. Around the Stargate, jumps can take minutes at a time. It's basically the galactic equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle. No-one told me that one on the way out, but I knew well enough to keep moving on the way back.
I came back in via San Wu again, and Sheng was so happy to see me he invited me back to his place. Comms give you an idea of a person's temperament, but you can't take full measure of someone 'til you've shaken their hand. Sheng was a tall guy, about six and a half feet, and he had an odd complexion which he attributed to his Jamaican-Mandarin heritage. He had sleek black hair down to his waist, but he assured me this was because he had recently bathed and had no time to style it. His clothing was loose, and he smelt strongly of incense.
I spent an hour with him adjusting to human interaction in the most time-honoured way: by smoking Onionhead and telling stories. I gave him the recipe for the Truck Stopper, and he returned the favour with a new strain of 'head that had been cultivated whilst I was away. I've only had the one, so I don't quite know what to make of it yet. It's a heavier buzz than the old floaty feeling of the old 'head. The last one made you feel like you were slowly lifting out of your seat sometimes. This new stuff makes you stick to your seat. I'm not sure it was the best thing to take before heading home, but at least I've tried it.
I thanked Sheng as I left, and asked where to pick up that new Cobra. He laughed.
"I thought ya' said ya'd be back by Chris'mas, man! Blame ya' self fo' arrivin' early, boy!"
I don't usually let people call me "boy", but he's seventy-five and he had a point. So I went back to Gcirthi, and they were surprised to see me alive. They were happy to see me back once I'd sold my exploration data to them. Now, before you act like I'm selling my kid his xmas present, let me explain how it works when you're a pyrat: Everyone shares the booty, and we keep and sell what we want from there. It all went to Springheel Jake, and he gave everyone their share. He also told me to get my quota done and be back for a quick word.
Now Springheel Jake is many things. He's meticulous, shrewd, and vicious. He's also even-handed, which is how he keeps his position. But one thing he is not, is gregarious. So if he wants a quick word, he's decided you owe him a favour. "Fine by me," says I "you're paying for my homecoming party."
So I've just come back with a sore head and spraypainted Cobra as a result of all the merriment. When I left the Bubble, I was mostly aimless. Now, I'm a Ranger. The boys found this funny, and decided to take it out on my Wishmaster. I guess it's endearing, in a way, but I'll need to use Crystal for public relations henceforth. I shipped 750 marked in her today for my quota, she seems to be holding up alright.
Now for the scary bit: what the heck does that sly dog want from me?