For those enmeshed in and stimulated by the solid pillars of trading and combat, the rather more esoteric life of us explorers may seem odd: romantic idiots running far from our own species, into the candle-cold dark, to answer questions nobody has asked us. We must be crazy.
Some great sage once wrote, “you can’t go home again”, and while many of us pioneers may be a few stars short of a cluster, we’re not so moonstruck we can’t hold onto the hope that finding a new home is possible.
And my radio tells me there may be such a place. Jaques Station, far from the sound and fury of the Bubble. Because it’s the poison of the Bubble, not my own kind, I run from. Jaques may be a wellspring; a watering hole for those like me. My own kind. I will continue my journey around the galaxy – but I have a place to aim for. And just maybe it will be crazy enough for me, one day, to call home.