It's been weeks since I last sat in a pilot's seat. I miss the sounds most of all. The dull hum of station engines, the radio fuzz, the overhead roar of thrusters. Some hothead boosting out the airlock. It's a cacaphony of metal and glass and fire, all in perfect harmony.
I don't know what to do with myself these days. I found riches. I've bought the Anaconda I've lusted after since I was a recruit. I've made it to the Founders' World, at last! But every clear goal is behind me. I'm aimless again, looking for a new purpose.
I sometimes have an urge to travel. Make it all the way to Colonia. I doubt I could do it. The furthest I've been from home has been the Coalsack. By the time I made it there, I'd found myself aching for a company. So, the vast expanse isn't for me.
Perhaps I'll find a new battle to fight. I did my time in the Imperial Navy, worked my way up until I hit Duke. Loyalty's never been my strong suit, though - if I do serve in the military again, it will be for the Feds. Or perhaps I'll play the sellsword. Find some small war to fight in, some minor power to pledge to. I might even turn pirate. Pull diamonds and gold from the holds of innocent traders - and burn my riches on liquor and company.
The bubble is vast. I'm sure I can find something. I've missed this seat.