Logbook entry

(Draft written August, 2019)

This is getting to be a habit but - thanks again for the lovely msgs! Was a really fun challenge the last one (eventually!) and glad some folks found it fun One of the "supporting cast" from that run, Stormy, who was in the middle of his own expedition was about to hit his first Beagle (that just sounds wrong), so I scuffled up to celebrate him crossing the finishing line. Back to my usual in-character waffle!



As a general rule of thumb - I'm not a fan of the heat.

Don't get me wrong, I've done my fair share of baking on a beach! But for the most part, gimme freezing cold, snow and mountains any day over the tropics (unless the later comes well furnished with large umbrella-bedecked sticky drinks). It's a hideous cliché, but looking at crystals of ice sparkling in the clear, cold air of a high mountain range somewhere is much more my 'thing'.

However right now - bugger all that, I'd kill for a sunbathe on Skardee! I am laid up for the night somewhere just south of the Core at the moment and absolutely freezing my butt off! But I'm getting ahead of myself - jumping back a bit to my last log...



Shortly after dragging ourselves back into Shinrarta, one very speedy lap of the galaxy later, the big metal claws of our beloved conda dug into the deck at Jameson. As is becoming standard practice, the crew and I didn't even make it off the ship as it was locked up tight in a hangar, but rather shuffled off to our bunks and collapsed into a nice orchestral medley of snoring. A LOT of sleep and a whole bunch of breakfast/cholesterol later, we disembarked - but not before I got dragged down to the engine room by Lauren, our expert-in-all-things-clanky. She explained with a lot of handwaving (and a little pointed prodding) that there's only so much AFMUs can do and piling supercharged plasma through the FSD for 36 straight hours is generally beyond the design specs of your typical friendship drive.

Consequently - the poor old Clair de Lune would be out of action for a bit as her big beastie of an FTL drive was given a thorough overhaul. Lauren obviously decided to stick around as she had some "opinions" about the quality of the mechanics who would be doing the overhaul; and Coral wanted to take the time to do some housekeeping on the conda's brains and navcomp, so I left them to it. The rest of the guys apparently had decided to spend their downtime off doing some relaxing. A 'roadtrip' to San Tu was mentioned and quite frankly I don't want to know any more.

So - I know nothing about FTL technology and even less about all the techy stuff that Coral would be doing, what to do, what to doooo...

Brainwave! During the whole "space-wonko lap around the galaxy" thing, I'd been chatting with a fellow splorer, way off out on the Eastern Rim. It's always nice chatting with people when you're off out in the wilderness, there's a bit of solidarity  I feel amongst the deep-space community - it's not a cliquey thing, just a little shared 'nod' from the folks who spend their lives drifting through the dark tens of thousands of light-years from 'civilisation'.

This particular explorer went by the handle "Stormy" and was apparently on a bit of a journey, hiking up around the Sagi-Carina arm towards Beagle - the long way around. Taking his time and exploring but ultimately hitting Pooch Point for the first time! Which is always deserving of a celebration - however you get up there, it's still an accomplishment today and the first time you make it up there to one of the furthest points from the origin of human kind, it's a bit of a buzz! So that's settled - I'd grab a little pressie for him and take the easy way up, straight up through the core so I could meet up and celebrate his achievement.

I've gotten so used to having my crew around that now, anytime I fly a big ship by myself for whatever reason, I feel very lonely - rattling around inside a big old hull with no company. So in a moment of sleep-deprived silliness, I decided to drag out my Eagle, tinker and hammer it a bit to make it a little less ludicrous for a trip across the galaxy. A swift load up on coffee and munchies and soon after I was waving from the cockpit at Coral and Lauren (the latter shaking her head resignedly) as I powered up my little Eagle and zipped out of the dock.

First stop - Hutton!



I'd already done a little research and thanks to one of his friends (ty Anubis!) I had discovered that Stormy's favourite poison was whiskey. But obviously he needs something appropriate to drink it out of so a little bit of supercruising and I was down in the hangar at Hutton Orbital, buying one of their famous mugs! Ok, mug bought, off to Eranin to get some of their renowned Pearl Whiskey. A little shopping and a few credits later and I was zipping out of the dock at Azeban City, popping the first plot into the ship's navcomp, swung the nose of my little Eagle around to point due Corewards and poof - off we go!

Ok so a few things. First of all, the Eagle is a lovely little ship. It's one of my favourite racers - it may not have the raw face-stripping speed of the Viper but it is so nippy. It's insanely manoueverable, flips end-to-end in a heartbeat and generally will turn your insides to goop while your brain is trying to remember which way to face in your skull if you're not careful. Some of this personality translates to supercruise too - after all that time in the conda just recently, I frequently found myself coming dangerously close to slamming into the stars' exclusion zones as I hugely overcorrected my path with this nervous little ship.

Another thing - it's a nice dinky little cockpit so your nose is figuratively pushed right up against the canopy. In most other ships you're a good long way from the canopy but here, newp - boom, hello galaxy! It's kinda terrifying the first few times you shudder out of witchspace and watch a honking great black hole race towards you, filling your windscreen seemingly inches away! And neutrons, good grief - the big ships take them in their stride, a lovely gentle roll, like a soft ocean swell - but in an Eagle, riding the streams is like being in a barrel thundering down the most chaotic rapids, tossed and turned every way possible, completely at the star's mercy!

On the flipside - you get a whole new look at the galaxy. And as I took a little pitstop near the end of the first day in a beautiful nebula north of the core, any fatigue from the little legs the Eagle had was washed away by the gorgeous view.



On the whole, a lovely little ship though. My first night snoozing comfortably in a cosy but efficient little bunk just aft of the cockpit was very comfy indeed and the next 'morning' I was all set to plow on and get up to Beagle!

I honestly didn't know when Stormy would make it up there - I was just hacking on a bee-line up there, whereas he was methodically heading up the arm, exploring as he went. But it wouldn't do to be late! So head down and go little Eagle, go! The poor old navcomp was having a little bit of a headache as I made it out past the Styx and started heading up to The Abyss but with a little futzing with the route (and a lot of banging on the console!), I was soon on the Sagi-Carina arm and working along the last little chain of stars out to Beagle Point.

A few jumps later, good old BP popped up on the navcomp and woosh - that big ball of sunshine jumped out at me from Witchspace. Beagle Eagle! That was fun, I honestly can't remember but I don't think I've been up here in an Eagle before, plenty of other silly ships with smaller ranges but that was fairly painless. I did my usual little ritual of nipping out away from the star and getting well out into the system so I could turn and look back at the core.

I always think when I get out here and look back, one word always comes to mind and it's "perspective". Actually wait, "humility" too. Two words that need to feature heavily in the lexicon of so many people yet fails to do so - and now seemingly more than ever before.



Fortunately I didn't have long to wait hanging out there in the dark. A couple of days later, sat up in the cockpit half-snoozing, a little chirp announced the arrival of a ship in the system and lo and behold - a conda popped up on the contacts panel. A few moments later I was chatting with Beagle's newest inductee, as Stormy cruised into the system and I couldn't have been happier for him - I know I've said this many times before but I think it's really wonderful when people get out there and explore. Not for the credits or for personal glory but just that almost genetic imperative to simply go out into the unknown driven by curiosity and wonder to see what's around the bend.

After a few exchanged messages and allowing time to nip off to see the Beagle beacon, we arranged to meet up. And as promised, the farthest drink order in the galaxy was delivered to celebrate, as I jettisoned the containers holding a fancy mug and a 'wee dram'. It must have looked like a fairly incongruous sight, not least seeing my dainty little Eagle nose to nose with one of the leviathans of deep space exploration, that big old Faulcon deLacy beast.




Huge congratulations once more to Stormy. All the very best for a safe trip back and hope the shiny keeps coming! We parted ways and I swung the nose of my little ship back around to point south, spooled up and began the journey home.

And for some reason, as the excitement of visiting and celebrating with Stormy faded, I started feeling incredibly lonely. More so than ever before, even back in the old days before Coral and Hal joined me out here - just an overwhelming sense of being alone out here. That solitude used to bring me a sense of peace but not now - I don't know why. I kept my mind busy, focusing on navigation but truthfully, I was dreading the end of the day when I'd need to sleep and be alone with my thoughts. So much so that I just kept pushing on, later and later into the 'night', hoping I could exhaust myself to the point that sleep would come quickly.

Finally I dropped out of Witchspace, in a non-descript system just past the galactic core. One thing about this little Eagle is it has a tiny fuel tank - during the night all systems save life support need to be shut down or I'll wake up to an empty tank! The unfortunate side effect of this is that the ship becomes a fricking icicle. I couldn't possibly sleep in my bunk, it's far too cold, so I've come back up here to huddle up in the cockpit and take in what little warmth the distant star affords me.

I really don't know why I feel so incredibly lonely out here. I'm a fairly gregarious sort by nature and I do love meeting people, sure; but I'm no stranger to being out here in the deeps on my own. I used to spend weeks out here pottering around in the dark by myself. So I don't understand why I suddenly have such a crippling sense of loneliness. I'm trying to be all boring and think rationally, telling myself it's just the small ship, the accumulated fatigue of the last few weeks - but it's not helping.  I miss my crew, my friends, my family - I simply can't wait to be home tomorrow. It's only a hop skip and jump away but it can't come soon enough.

I think I'm just going to sit up for a while watching the solar flares, try and keep warm and hope sleep will finally come.

Wherever you are out there, give your crew a hug! A rather lonely Clara, signing off.