Entry 8: The Weight of Wings
30 Dec 2024Teltin
Logbook: CMDR TeltinDate: 13 May 3309
The job felt easier—at first, anyway. The hum of the engines, the rhythm of the controls—it all came back quicker this time. But the weight’s still there, pressing in from all sides. I can’t ignore it, but I can keep flying through it. Maybe that’s enough for now.
I’ve put a few more jobs behind me since then. Courier runs, data drops, and a cargo haul that had me sweating bullets until customs cleared. Nothing flashy, nothing anyone’s gonna sing about, but it was work. It let me stretch the Nighthawk’s legs and remind myself what it feels like to be out there, in the black. She’s earned her keep—proved she’s reliable, fast, and still sharp when it counts. And me? I’m working on it. Every run’s another step toward feeling like I belong in this seat again.
Marcus’s coordinates are still burning a hole in my console. The system isn’t just a few jumps out—it’s outside the bubble, far enough that I’ll be relying on the fuel scooper more than I’m comfortable with and double-checking my oxygen scrubbers. Distance isn’t the real problem, though. It’s what’s waiting on the other side that keeps me staring at the star map longer than I should.
I keep running the numbers, estimating travel time, checking for refueling stops, and plotting backup routes in case things go sideways. Old habits. But preparation doesn’t ease the knot in my gut. It’s not the trip that’s giving me pause—it’s the unknown waiting at the end of it.
I don’t like loose ends, and Marcus has always been one. He’s not the kind of man who calls without a reason, and reasons with him usually mean trouble. The kind you can’t talk your way out of. Still, I owe him—probably more than I want to admit—and ignoring this won’t make it go away.
I keep thinking about Jules, too. About her face in that message. She’d tell me not to overthink it, to get off my ass and handle it like I always do. Problem is, I’m not so sure I’m the man she thinks I am. But maybe that’s why I have to go. Maybe I need to prove to myself that I can still do this.
I’ll finish one more job tomorrow—something quick—and then I’ll point the Nighthawk toward Marcus’s coordinates. Whatever’s waiting, it’s time to face it.