Commander's Log. Text. Galactic Date: 16 Jun 3302. 19:22.
I can't wait to be home. What with news of fabled engineers widely advertising their services, and countless odd stories of numerous different things, I yearn for actual human interaction. My incursion has been... depressing, to say the least. With more than two and a half months in a large, empty ship, in the deepest reaches of space, constantly blinded by the sheer brightness of stars here in the core, I want only to return to our little bubble in our relatively far arm of space, with familiar constellations and actual people. If anything, my expedition has shown me the true vastness of emptiness of space. Maybe it's the lack of interaction and the fact that I've been breathing my own recycled air for 77 days, but yeah... I'm depressed. I've found reinvigoration with increased exercise and hydration, but I just want to see people! I want to fire my weapons, haul salvage, something. My frame shift drive and my scanners have been the only thing I've heard for days and my recreation suite does nothing to alleviate the fact that I hear the hum of the frame shift drive and the charging of the scanners even in my sleep. Once I get home, I'm dropping off this data as soon as I can, and hopping in my Imperial Eagle for some much needed canyon running. That's all I wanted, and that's all I need.
I've nearly forgotten our struggles back home as well. This is unacceptable. As a true Imperial, born and raised in the territories of our Emperor, I am frustrated at myself. Admittedly, I have found our goals to be miniscule after faced with the vastness of space. With my scanners registering hundreds of terraformable and inhabitable worlds, I've felt like humanity needs to truly expand further out into space. There are so many mysteries and wonders of the black to discover, and we find it habitual to remain confined to a small, 1000 by 1000 lightyear region of space. We must forge new ventures out here, and show humanity's glory to the Milky Way.
There has been talk of extragalactic aggressors, and I believe that if we don't expand, we can fall prey to these malevolent unknowns. But that is a talk that the legion and I will have much later.
For now, I am flying directly "up" from the core, as the sheer number of stars has made it difficult for my plotting algorithms to successfully plot efficient routes. Hopefully with these new engineers, they have developed software upgrades for the ships... I've often waited more than 45 minutes for the algorithms to work, as I have heard other CMDRs deal with many times. There were tricks that seemed to work, however, they were rendered futile as I was immediately near the core.
My modules are holding fine... my life support is seemingly slightly damaged, as my ship has been a chilly 288 K for a while now; a noticable drop from the standard 295. Life support overall integrity is an unacceptable 81%, which often means some critical systems aren't functioning properly. Unbeknownst to most, however, the available comfortable suits in the ship can withstand down to 120 K without a decrease in comfort. Of course, if the temperature sub-module of my life support does fail, the emergency H.E Suits can withstand absolute zero, though comfort isn't exactly a priority there... All in all, I am still safe. Oxygen concentration onboard is 205,000 ppm. Any decrease in that is very concerning, but until it drops under 75% (which I don't see happening any time soon), there won't be many noticeable effects. Frame Shift Drive has been routinely degaussed and cooled, and is holding at 91% integrity, after sustaining some heat damage from stars and emergency stops. The Alcubierre function is still working at peak capacity, so I am unsure as to where the 9% integrity is registering.
Okay, I'm itching to charge the frame shift drive. Time to head out!