The End is in Sight

I docked last night at Polo Harbour and started preparing for the final leg of my journey to Colonia. I can get there in about 100 jumps. I lay back in the observation room and looked up at the night sky. Here in the midst of the Venetian Nebula the stars are packed in so densely they're everywhere. The bright glow from the galactic core serves as a backdrip to a million beacons of light against the dark. As I taak it all in, I considered the journey from Gagarin Gate.

I'm starting to get the hang of this Selfie lark

I'd taken a little detour at the start of my foray from Gagarin Gate, in order to visit the system GRU HYPUE AA-A G4, known to some travellers as Jo Ella's Flares. It's a dead system. Literally. No planets, and all four stars in the system have collapsed. At the centre a black hole and and angry pulsar orbit each other, with two more neutron stars slightly further out. Black holes have interested me ever since my trip to Maia and I find myself drawn to them like a moth to flame.

It's difficult to get a photo of a black hole, for obvious reasons...

I headed closer. And closer, and closer - mere kilometres away from the singularity as the light began to warp around me. As before with Maia I became suddenly terrified. The fear as you approach a black hole is like nothing I can describe. It's an existential fear of a scale of magnitude rarely experienced. You feel concern for the essence of your very soal as you approach. I don't think I'd call it a pleasant experience in and of itself, but as you boost away from the tiny yet all encompassing monstrous lurking horror you feel more alive than ever. Will I feel the same when I see Sagitarius A*?

I will never tire of neutron stars

I used the jetstreams of the netron stars to supercharge my engines and left Jo Ella's flares behind.

In astronomical terms, they're practically touching

When I arrived in the Nuekuae LW-M D7-20 system I was greeted with a full system unexplored by anyone. Ever eager to carve out my name across the galaxy, I started tagging and bagging. Eventually I came across an extraordinary sight: two ice planets who were orbiting each other so closely I initially thought that they were touching! I grabbed some photos and landed on the surface of the larger of the two (I say larger - its diameter was only some twenty kilometres more than its partner) in oder to do some exploration and just take in the wonder of it all. Here I was, the first person ever to see this beautiful sight. It's moments like these which define why I am addicted to exploration.

The rest of the trip was fairly standard - I found some familiar but beautiful sights like a binary star system and multi-ringed metal planets, and just smiled at the feeling inside. When I fianlly touched down at Polo Harbour, I received a promotion to Ranger. I plotted the course to Jacques Station before I went to bed. My journey was almost over.

Or was it about to truly begin?

Past the point of no return

I'm camped out on a rocky planetoid somewhere more than ten thousand light years from Sol. I'm past halfway to Colonia. There's no turning back now. Sitting back in the Heidegger (That's what I've decided to name my trusty Asp Explorer), I try to contemplate the fact that I am probably the only living thing that exists for billions of miles in all directions, and the only thing between me and instant death is a thin sheet of plexiglass. It's a sobering thought.

Home from Home

The haul from Eagle's landing to Sacaqawea Spaceport was the longest single leg of my journey. It was five thousand light years - took me two days when factoring in the extra time to scan new systems. I've made so many first discoveries on this journey. So many, in fact that they start to lose all meaning. I'm alone out here and I think it's starting to get to me.

I was the first person to ever set foot on this world.

I didn't spend long at Sacaqawea. I'm going through something right now, I can feel it. I've spent so long alone with the universe that talking to other people before I reach my destination is anathema. I just hope that When I DO reach colonia I'm able feel normal again. Right now I barely feel human.

I got some two hundred and fifty light years from Sacaqawea before I fell asleep mid jump. I woke suddenly, covered in sweat, the angry alarms shrieking at me "WARNING! TEMPERATURE CRITICAL! TAKING HEAT DAMAGE!" My view port was filled with blinding orange light as I streaked full throttle towards a K class star.

Getting trapped between two stars is never a pleasant experience

Barely able to think, I zeroed the throttle and yanked the stick back. The ship had already emergency dropped from supercruise and I knew I wouldn't last long this close to the star. I dropped a heat sink, alighned to my escape vector and punched the FSD. Once I got away from the star I slowed and turned so that I could view the nemesis which almost claimed my life.

And I witnessed something incredible.

Coronal Mass Ejection

I'm sure the seasoned explorers reading this will scoff, but this was the first time I had witnessed a coronal mass ejection (CME) first hand. Sure, I'd seen solar prominences countless times, but actually seeing the stellar mass being spurted out into space? It was breathtaking. The sight made me reflect on all the moments the universe had amazed me since I left Worlidge Terminal over a year ago. White Dwarfs. Neutron Stars. The system where life began. And then I realised how little of the galaxy I'd seen, and what other treasures lay in store for me to discover. This journey has changed me, and will continue to change me, and that's exactly why I need to do it.

I won't ever be the same.

I'll sign off with a quote from my ship's namesake:

"Tanscendence constitutes selfhood" - Martin Heidegger

If I take death into my life, acknowledge it, and face it squarely, I will free myself from the anxiety of death and the pettiness of life - and only then will I be free to become myself.
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/martin_heidegger_363004

If I take death into my life, acknowledge it, and face it squarely, I will free myself from the anxiety of death and the pettiness of life - and only then will I be free to become myself.
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/martin_heidegger_363004

If I take death into my life, acknowledge it, and face it squarely, I will free myself from the anxiety of death and the pettiness of life - and only then will I be free to become myself.
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/authors/martin_heidegger

Deep into that darkness peering...

I was all set. I had a renewed purpose. I had an upgraded ship. It was time. I said a silent farewell to civilisation and jumped out of the bubble.

Destination: Colonia. The furthest outpost of humanity, some 25,000 light years distant. That's an unfathomable distance, even in this age of frame shift drives and faster-than-light travel. But it is not an impossible distance. Given enough time I can get there. Many people have made the journey. Many have failed, but more have made it to Colonia in one piece. I had a route plotted, and I was confident. I still AM confident.

My journey consists of seven legs:

1. From the bubble to Hillary Depot in Blu Thua AI-A c14-10
2. Hillary Depot to Amundsen Terminal in Lagoon Sector NI-S b4-10
3. Amundsen Terminal to Eagle's Landing in Eagle Sector IR-W d1-117
4. Eagle's Landing to Sacagawea Spaceport in Skaudai CH-B d14-34
5. Sacagawea Spaceport to Gagarin Gate in Gru Hypue KS-T d3-31
6. Gagarin Gate to Polo Harbour in Boewnst KS-S c20-959
7. Polo Harbour to Jacques Station in Colonia  

It's not going to be an easy trip, each leg is in excess of 2,000 light years. But I have a decent FSD and two Automatic Repair Modules. I think I'll be OK...

On the surface of some system somewhere

During the first leg I got overcome by wanderlust and explored a great many systems in a LOT of detail. I landed on a rocky planetoid in the Synuefe ara and mined some nickel. I honked in SWOILZ ZV-C D67A and the scan showed up ninety three celestial objects! I travelled 123,000 lightsecobnds in one system just to scan a distant sun... Then I realised if I spent this long all the way there I might never reach my destination!

On the surface of another planet somewhere

However, it's easy to fall into a routine when you're jumping long distance. And routine brings a lack of focus. Out in the black, a lack of focus can kill. I nearly burnt to a crisp jumping out of SWOILZ KK-A C3-29-A, as I span up the FSD way too close to the sun and didn't even think to drop heatsinks. To make matters worse, the next system I jumped into had its entry point in between two large and very hot stars! I got out in one piece, but a lot of my systems were more than a little crispy...

Make sure you bring plenty of heatsinks. You never know when you'll need them.

When I got closer to Hillary Depot I started exploring the systems more thoroughly. I managed to find a system which had never been logged by anyone. I spent a good while scanning all of the stellar bodies - Universal Cartographics paid me handsomely for those (I wonder if I'll be able to afford an Anaconda by the time I get back? I guess I can dream, right?)

I made a few million selling this data...

I got a promotion to Pathfinder after selling my data to Universal Cartographics

After a quick overnight in Hillary Depot I headed off to Amundsen Terminal. The journey was fairly similar. I took many photos of the planets I explored and the stunning views of the Lagoon Nebula.

The Lagoon Nebula in all its glory. Pictures can't do it justice

I'm currently at Amundsen and plotting my route for the next leg. I'm going to try something risky. There's at least one neutron star on the way to Eagle's landing. If I charge my FSD in its streams, I might be able to cut down my journey time... If I survive.

On approach to Amundsen Station

Rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated...

Wow. Has it really been a year? A whole year with no lasting record of where I've been. That's really something. When I last updated I was working my way towards getting a Sol permit. I flew into the jetstream of a neutron star... and then I vanished.

Well, not literally.I mean, lots of people assumed the worst. I even heard rumours on GalNet that I'd fallen victims to the aliens which had been reported this time last year. But I'm still here. Still alive and kicking.

So where the hell have I been? Well, it's been a wild ride. I'm not sure I can remember all of it, but I'll try my best.

Flying into the neutron star was an almost spiritual experience for me. You know how people say they feel entirely different the first time they fly into space and see their home planet floating below them, tiny and fragile in a sea of black? It was a similar experience.

When I realised that I could overcharge my FSD and jump far greater distances than before it made me realise just how vast the galaxy was, and just how little of it I had seen. I drifted along after that, completing military contracts one after the other, almost on autopilot, until I opbtained my Sol Permit.

Old Earth. Where it all began.

Once I'd seen old Earth, and Mars, and Jupiter and Saturn and all of the other stellar bodies I'd read so much about on my travels, I felt strangely empty. All of my energy had been put into this one task, the journey to Sol, obtaining the permit, exploring the system. They say satisfaction is the death of desire, and I finally understand that. I'd made it. I'd reached my goal. If not for the neutron star epiphany, I could have retired and settled down. I certainly wasn't short on cash. But my experience had changed me. I knew deep down that I could never rest. That I had to keep moving.

Neptune seems so peaceful from up here...

The galaxy is VAST. Too big for one man to explore, even if he lived ten lifetimes. But I knew I needed to see as many wonders as I could. I'd seen neutron stars and white dwarfs. I'd heard tales of the incomprehensibly vast hypergiant stars Betelgeuse and VY Canis Majoris. I'd had warnings about losing control near the hypnotic black hole at Maia. I'd listen to crusty veterans talk about their forays to Sagitarius A* at the centre of the galaxy, and of the brave souls who pioneered the charge to set up the distant settlement of Colonia. I heard whisperings of things nobody had ever seen first hand, of the ghosts that wander the galactic rim, the alien civilisation lurking in some deeply forbidden area not too far from the bubble. I needed to see it all.

I decided to see if I could face the loneliness of space for long periods. I loaded up my ship with the biggest fuel scoop I could find, and set off on my first long distance trip, to the hypergiant star, VY Canis Majoris.

Where lies the behemoth

Some 150 jumps later and I was there. One look at the immense star was enough to fill me with awe. As I scooped fuel from the surface of the monster, I thought I heard the star itself whispering to me, moaning. It was an unsettling experience. I took some photos and jumped out, back to the bubble. My mind was made up.

Maia conceals a monster

I drifted aimlessly after that, travellibng where the mood took me, where the rumours took me, where my instincts took me. I had no goal, no plan, I just needed to see everything I could. No time to write, I was just travelling, sleeping where I could before moving on again. I was in serious danger of going insane. After months of this I overheard a conversation over an open comm channel in the Maia system. Space madness was real, and it was a killer. Man out here alone, no mission, no goals? He was done for. I snapped out of my torpor and formulated a plan.

22,000 Light years from the bubble to Colonia. It's going to be a long trip.

I took my savings and I sold my Cobra. I bought a brand new Asp Explorer and kitted it out with an immense fuel scoop and the best frame shift drive I could afford, before embarking on the immense trip to Colonia.

Ever feel like a Carthaginian?

While I've been working my way towards that elusive Sol permit, I've been busy soaking up every vid feed, holo-stream and data blast I can get my hands on relatiing to Sol and Earth. I read some interesting history about a place called Carthage. The Carthaginians were pretty bad-ass. Not quite as powerful as Rome but they gave it a good go. They even rode to war on ELEPHANTS! So why am I mentioning this? Well the federation military seems to have a lot in common with the Carthaginians.

You see, the army of Carthage was made up entirely of mercenaries. Foreign mercenaries. And that's JUST like how the Fed Navy feels. I'm not billeted anywhere. I don't collect a paycheque. Every so often while checking the bulletin boards I'll get contacted by some superior officer (a different one every time!) and given a mission. Some of them are nightmarish. Some of them seem easy. Some of them are downright illegal. There's something very unsettling about all of this. I try to ignore it and focus on the end goal.

Supposedly ferrying goods to commercial docks is a military matter...

After my latest mission, smuggling firearms into a prison colony (look, I don't ask questions, I just do the jobs, OK?) I got a promotion to Midshipman. I'm almost there. I'm just one promotion away. I find the work I do incredibly distasteful, but it's for the greater good. Well.... It's for MY greater good, at least.

But anyway, I found myself at a loose end with no contracts coming my way, so I ended up heading to the bar at Levi Strauss and contemplasting the massive journey I embarked upon just a couple of weeks ago, marvelling at how it all led to this point. The things I've seen, the things I've done... It's astounding. But the things I've yet to do are even more fantastic. It was here that I got into a lengthy conversation with one Commander Chris Simon.

Chris was a veteran commander who had seen for more of the galaxy than me. He smiled at my enthusiasm as I explained the tyrannic majesty of the White Dwarf stars I had seen on my travels.

"Yes, White dwarfs are utterly awesome, " he agreed, "but reserve your judgement on what you call majestic beauty until you see a Neutron Star."

It was like holding a candle out to a moth.

"Are there any nearby?" I asked. "Nearby" was a relative term, of course.

A slightly drunk commander who had been listening in chirped up with "FYI Jackson's Lighthouse is the closest neutron star," before smiling and collapsing to the floor. With renewed purpose I headed to the docking bay.

Just look at the average price of these things!

Jackson's lighthouse was some 176 light years away. With my current FSD it was going to take over thirty jumps to get there, but I was undeterred. However, I figured there was nothing wrong with turning a profit if I was heading that way anyway. On a previous military contract I had managed to... acquire an amount of rare Ophiuch Exino Artefacts. Supposedly alien in origin, although cheap fakes to my eyes, I'd heard people on the other side of the bubble pay handsomely for this tat. So I loaded up my hold, plotted a course and started the long haul.

The journey was uneventful. The sight that greeted me when I arrived though. I have no words, so here are some pictures.

 

Even photos do not do this justice. The swirling plasma jetstreams are hypnotic in their helical twisting. The star itself is so dense it's difficult to get near, but I flew as close as I could, before accidentally wandering into the jetstreams. My systems went haywire, my FSD started barking warning after warning at me, and I was shaken out of the trance I had entered while staring at the neutron star. I headed to the closest system and docked up.

After shifting the artefacts for a VERY tidy profit, I decided to grab a coffee before hitting the long road back to Barnard's Star. I explained to the bartender what had happened whe I got to close to the lighthouse's jetstreams.

"Ahh, trying to boost your frameshift drive were ya?" he asked.

Wait, what? I enquired as to what he was talking about. Appartently if you fly into these jet streams, and your systems DON'T get fried, it will overcharge your FSD allowing you to jump VAST distances in a single go. Four times your normal jump range, by the bartender's reckoning. Well, I thought, that would make the trip back a lot shorter.

I decided to try it. What was the worst that could happen? I mean obviously my ship could be torn apart by gravitational forces and I could be obliterated by stellar radiation... but I decided to try it anyway. Four times normal jump range? That was 60 light years in one go.

Each one of those lines shows a star that can be reached with my current jump range...

I fired up the engines and flew into the maelstrom.

Anchors aweigh, my boys, anchors aweigh

After getting back to Barnard's Star having witnessed the majesty of a White Dwarf, I had new and renewed focus to see everything the galaxy has to offer. I want to explore beyond the realms of the bubble. I want to visit black holes and hypergiants and supernova remnants and nebulae. To use an ancient cliché - I want to go where noone has gone before.

Just one of the many places in the galaxy I want to go.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. My original goal was to see the Sol system, and by Jove I'm going to see it. As luck would have it, when I arrived at Levi Strauss station in Barnard's Star I noticed that there was a Navy recruitment officer! So they DO exist! He offered me a job - take out some pirates in Ross 154 and if I do well enough there will be a place in the navy for me.

This was it. My ticket to Sol. I signed up there and then, and headed for Ross 154.

The contract was to kill 16 members of the Ross 154 boys. There was no intel on where they were hanging out so I just set to hunting. supercruising the spacelanes and interdicting where I could find them. Progress was slow going; my interdiction attempts failed time and again. These buys were just too slippery! Eventually I got my first chance at the prize - when I was interdicted by THEM!

I swear it used to be easier to interdict - maybe I'm losing my touch.

I dropped to normal space, spinning wildly, but I was on the ball. I got my hardpoints deployed and hit the throttle before my hunter even knew where I was. He was in a Sidewinder - more manoeuvrable than my Cobra, but I swear it was made of tinfoil. My beam lasers stripped the shields in seconds and my multicannon tore him to pieces. I checked my mission transactions for the kill confirmation and smiled. Buit that smile wasn't to last - two Vipers had just dropped in and were heading straight for me.

That sidewinder pilot must have gotten off a distress call to his buddies. I needed to take these guys out fast otherwise I would be swamped. And where were the feds? Shouldn't they be monitoring the system for signs of violence? One viper went down, and then the other. I was holding my own, but I'd lost shields. I diverted power to my systems in order to raise them again, but then I heard the telltale "pop" of someone dropping out of supercruise. I thought it was the feds. I couldn't be more wrong.

Seems that people still name their kids after the heroes of legend.

Storming up behind me was one of the Ross 154 boys in a vulture. The speed he was travelling, I knew it couldn't have been a standard fitting. He was guns blazing as he came, and even though I had military grade composite armour on I was still taking a pounding. Then things went bad to worse.

I was frantically trying to spin up my FSD so I could hit supercruise and limp to a station, but as I went to hit the boost the Vulture came at me from above, shooting out my canopy. I panicked as the cabin depressurised, the sound of my own breathing now deafening in my ears. I checked my hull status: 23%. this was bad. I saw no way out.

"Pop!"

"Pop!"

"Pop!"

Oh not more, surely? I was going to die. I knew it. I closed my eyes and waited. But nothing happened.

When I opened my eyes I checked my radar. One red blip and 4 green blips - the feds were here at last! I didn't stick around to watch that party. I gunned my throttle, hit supercruise and limped back to the starport. Trying to land with no HUD is a scary experience. You forget how reliant you are on all of your instruments. Eventually I touched down, ripped off my helmet and breathed a sigh of relief.

I've never been happier to see this sight (this was taken before the pirates blew my canopy)

After repairing my ship I got back into the action. It took me a long time, but eventually I managed to polish off the rest of my quota - most of the biys were flkying Vipers or Cobras and I made reasonably short work of them. When I got back to Levi Strauss I was greeted by a familiar craggy old man in a Navy officer's uniform.

"I'm proud of you Son, you're going to go far. Sit down, I have a mission for you, if you're interested. Covert ops. You interested?"

I was in the navy, finally. If I played my cards right I could be in Sol sooner than I realised. But I needed to gain ranks. I was ready to take on any mission they could throw at me.

"Yeah I'm interested."

"Good. So tell me, you ever tried your hand at smuggling?"

Don't Fly Tired

I swear I've been up and down the Federation for weeks trying to find that old man, or at least somebody who's seen him. People look at me like I'm crazy. Maybe I am crazy. I feel crazy. This... this all feels crazy.

I mean two weeks ago I was going through the same daily routine, fixing vending machines, installing new ones, arguing with people about how I just fix the machines, I don't do refunds... Now there is no structure in my life. I fly to a station, I check the job board, I scout out the bars, I maybe fill my hold with computer equipment and fly 13 light years to another station, sell it on... I do what I want. There are no guarantees. There's no manager breathing down my neck. It's freedom. Real freedom. But...

How many different planets have I seen just in the past week, I wonder?

There's always a "but", isn't there? There's times when I wonder if I'll EVER get to see Sol. There's times when I wonder if it even exists, or if it's just some magical paradide like Shangri-La or Xanadu. People keep telling me the same thing - "Join the navy". That's great, but you know what? There's no damn recruitment offices! You've seen the signs, right? "Federation Navy - don't call us, we'll call you". I'm somehow supposed to try and get noticed. So I keep making friends with companies and organisations affiliated with the navy. I take on all sorts of work - combat, trade, even smuggling runs. People tell me I'm sure to get noticed... but nothing.

It's been keeping me up at night. I've been losing sleep. I'm ALWAYS tired. But you know what, if I can give you just ONE tip for how to fly, it would be this: DON'T FLY TIRED. I was hauling 32 tons of Consumer Technology. Easy run, right? only 2 jumps, and the contract was for a LOT of money. Of course, I needed some funds to start with to buy the damn stuff, but no biggie, I was fairly flush.

So what did I do as soon as I got out the station? I hit the damn cargo hatch instead of the supercruise engage. I watched as my cargo got jettisoned into the black. I tried my hardest to scoop it all up, but as it was technically now legal salvage, I could only sit in chagrin as I watched a Hauler fly in, grab everything and then leave. I must have lost 150 grand on that. On top of it all, I got some very weird looks when I turned up in the station again.

On the plus side, I finally figured out how to use my nav computer...

Later that night I crashed into the side of a station, crashed into the side of a ship that was trying to enter the station, and ended up hauling a full hold full of biowaste to Tau Ceti in order to pay for the fine. Later still (in space, the night ever ends) I took on a job to locate some fish and haul it back to Barnard's Star. Try travelling 50 light year with a hold reeking of fish and shit. At this point I had well and truly had enough. So I figured... why not just go for a journey? The trip from LHS 3447 to Barnard's Star was a wonderful experience - no pressure, the thrill of discovery... why not do the same thing?

So I did.

It was on this journey that I witnessed the most penetratingly beautiful sights I have ever beheld: a white dwarf star. Look at the picture. Just look at it.

Forever burned into my soul.

Mere words cannot express the emotions that overtook me when I saw the remnants of something once mighty. I spent hours say in my ship, motionless, allowing the feelings to wash over me. And I cried. I cried because I knew one day this would all be gone. One day WE would all be gone, and there would be nobody left to marvel at its haunting beauty.

Just the thought of it still brings a tear to my eye.

 And then, finally, I slept.