A Lesson in Humility #1
18 Sep 2017LongDistanceClara
(Bit of a long one this one I'm afraid, there's a few days travel wrapped up into one here!)I just can't seem to sit still these days! The bright lights and bustle of the bubble don't seem to hold the attraction they once did and whilst it's always nice to "think of home" on the long trek back, I'm barely back in civilization for a day or more before I start wanting to get back out into the galaxy...
After the last cruise in the Cutter, I was eager to take the Clair out and head off to the westerly rim. I loved the "cruising-in-style" the Cutter had given me along the Colonia highway, but the south-west quadrant of the galaxy was a different beast entirely. I'd need the Clair's jump range if I wanted to get right "out there", given the low star density. Boy did that turn out to be an understatement...
It'd been a while since I'd taken a ship out to the rim and even longer since I'd taken something there without upgrades, before those lovely engineers came on the scene. So I guess I can be forgiven for a being a little complacent, blithely hopping in the Clair and just bee-lining out of the bubble towards the rim. My target was Erikson's Star, one of (if not the most) westerly points on the rim and it seemed a breeze - the Clair tearing through plot after plot with her enormous jump range. By the end of day one, we'd raced far past Colonia and setup overnight on a moon orbiting a nice little ELW out in Wagar's Reach, on the Outer Arm.
Erikson and the rim would be in easy reach the next day.
Oops.
Less than a few plots in the next day, the nav computer started going on the fritz, struggling to plot at any decent range. 1000ly became 800, then 500, until eventually it just packed in altogether.
I guess I missed the sign saying "Welcome to the Mare Desperationis (the Sea of Despair)".
This vast area represents the void between the Outer Arm and the very tip of the Scutum-Centauris arm. Stellar density just drops off a cliff in places and as melodramatic as it sounds, you get a real sense of standing on the edge of a black, star-less abyss. I've done numerous trips to the rim - Oevaxy out past Beagle, the Outer Arm Vacuus and Tenebris to name a few - where you can stare out at the intergalactic void, and yet they felt "open" to me - the Mare Desperationis just felt like a bottomless hole trying to pull me in.
"Whole lotta nuthin'"
Time to dust off long-unused navigational grey matter! It was great fun and pretty nostalgic I have to admit, poring over the galaxy map in greater detail than I have in months and actually having to manually look for routes, think about fuel for the first time in god knows how long etc. The novelty began to wear off after a while though - as I skirted along the edges of the sea looking for viable boostable crossing points, there was just a maze of dead-ends, either physical or fuel-restrictive.
After what felt like forever, I finally mapped a fairly lengthy route, snaking its way through the void with only a couple of scoopable oases on route. Praying I had my maths right (as there were a couple of "point of no return" hops), I started the jumps and after some nail biting moments, made it through the jumps with about 20ly left in the tank. Breathed a sigh of relief, and set a now much happier nav computer to chew through the higher star density at the top of the SC arm.
Rose-tinted goggles off, and onwards through the thinning star fields. One of the things I always love about facing out to the rim was how eerie the stars look out here against a backdrop of pure darkness. I came across three rather spooky class A's (there was actually a fourth but it was orbiting at some distance from the other three) - and this'll be the space-crazy talking but they felt more like deep sea creatures, moseying up to the window and checking me out as if saying "You don't belong out here, little one...":
Yep, I've lost it
It was getting late and the nav computer was grinding along again. Time for a coffee...
<Hour or so passes>
Ok things are just getting weird now. Everyone else is asleep. It's just me left awake "on the bridge". I've had my usual random autoplay tunes running, but am so tired I didn't notice them stop. As I get closer and closer to the destination on the farthest reaches of the rim, the stars wink out one by one until there's nothing out there for millions of light years (the magellanics are behind me, iirc). I swear I can suddenly hear music faintly playing, when I realise my autoplay has arbitrarily decided to fire back up - and play this of all things:
Very funny computer, I'm already weirded out enough here.
The nav computer is having a hernia and I'm back to manual plotting. Just a k and a half more, but I'm not making it tonight - I've checked my stores and I've got enough synthesis materials - for a one way trip. And since I plan on coming back alive thank you very much, I'm going to have to stop and kick over some rocks on the way to make sure the Clair (and I!) get back to civilization in one piece. I can see I'm going to have to make at least one or two neutron jumps with boost, so I think it's time to set down on an accomodating nearby rock, grab some shuteye and come at this fresh tomorrow with my prospecting hat on.
G'night, galactic core - you're looking gorgeous, as always
Footnote: I realise at points I might sound a bit "bitter-vet"/sadomasochistic and I apologise if so - and for the most part I'm sure I'm going to love the new-and-improved super fast super long-range nav computer coming in 2.4 - but I think I'll always feel a bit of nostalgia for the old days of frustration (and fear!); when navigation was a lot more hands-on without the engineer upgrades and there was a consummate sense of achievement of negotiating your way through the galaxy; using the community-driven crossing points of notorious areas; when filtering by scoopables wasnt an option etc. While I think the advancements are great, enabling far more folks to get out there to take the plunge and opening up new previously inaccessible areas , I'll always have a soft spot for the "bad old days" of exploration