Samhain Echo: Day -3
29 Oct 2020Joey_the_saint
Three days left until departure.I've been over the calculations and the route a dozen times. There are variables, sure, but I'm convinced everything we could account for has been accounted for. Tritium is tough to come by these days, demand is ridiculous, but even if we don't bring on even one additional ton we have close to 1000 tons in buffer. Venus swears we're fine. Even if we have to detour. Even if we have to stay out longer than we planned. I've asked her enough over the last week that I can tell she hates seeing me in her office doorway now.
Sal's confident about the route. Venus is confident in the drive and our fuel reserves. Jack and Herb swear they can handle anything we ask while we're out. The crew is new but they're not green, they've all had excellent records before signing on aboard the Cape Traverse.
So why am I still dreading this trip? Something feels wrong -- off -- but I can't say what. It's this vague sense of impending doom. Maybe it's the mission name Sal gave us: Samhain Echo. He said it was a joke, we're headed to the south-east section of the galaxy outside the bubble. It didn't escape me, though, that samhain also marks the start of the "dark half" of the year back home. Maybe it's just that we're going to a part of the galaxy I've never been to before. Fear of the unknown is justifiable. Reasonable, even. But I don't think that's it. Maybe it's that I'm taking all these people out on this expedition. They're my responsibility, even if they've all volunteered. But I don't think it's even that. This is a lot safer than that trip I took to the Zurara last year and that was just me and my sister's kid. He wanted to see the galaxy and, truth be told, I didn't want to go out there alone.
No, it's none of that. But there's something wrong. I've been sitting here for an hour now, looking over the plan, the schedule, all the lights off in my cabin except for the display screens. I've got two fingers of Lavian Brandy -- the bottle a bonus from the Oterma Station quartermaster when I was bringing loads in for Prince Duval's funeral last month -- and even that's not helping settle my nerves. Then, just a few minutes ago word came over the line about some ghost ship at Chukchan. I can't help but think that's a bad omen.
It already looks like Pilot's Federation commanders are crawling all over the place, but maybe that'd be a good distraction. Get off the Cape Traverse for a few hours, clear my head. It'd be good to be back in the cockpit of the Ascension Road again and see what I can see. Let someone else worry about the tritium manifest. That's Venus' job, after all.
Nap first, then maybe I'll check with Kev. See if he's up for a little tomb raiding.