Birkland City, Ross 154
I boarded my ship with thought: By the end of the day, I planned to be in orbit around Earth, or snuggled in to a nice drink in a bar on Lincoln Station. At Ross 154, I was barely three jumps away from that goal. Excitement!
Being ever the thrifty CMDR, I checked the Board for anything interesting in that direction. Feeling especially pleased with myself, I decided that today would also be the day that I poked my nose into a conflict zone, so I accepted a mission to break up a few fights around Alpha Centauri. That would get me one jump off of Sol, and a chance to check out a rare commodity called Centauri Mega Gin. Out in the boonies, that stuff sold for 10K a can, easy.
Unfortunately, when I got to Alpha Centauri, I realized that I still hadn’t gotten the hang of tracking down conflict zones around stars. I kept stumbling across Fed convoys, which, if you recall your Emily Post, is a real bad idea to attack if you’re interested in scoring combat warrants.
I eventually came across an anonymous commander just hanging out in space that made me a counter offer – forget about the combat mission, meet him in a station orbiting Proxima Centauri, where he’d make me whole. Intrigued, I accepted.
Here’s an unfortunate fact of space travel: space is big. I mean, REALLY big. Most habitations occur close in to the primary star, because getting to the outer ones takes a long time, even with Supercruise. But some systems do not lend themselves well to our current travelling system. Centauri is one of those systems.
The primary star, Alpha, is where most of the action is. Orbiting Alpha is another star, Beta, still within reasonable distance, but it does take a little patience. And Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay the hell out there is Proxima, so named because it was, at the time, the star in closest proximity to Sol.
And that was my destination.
Never having traversed a system like this before, I was unprepared for the long, long slog across .22Ly of space. In a standard Sidewinder, this takes something like 40-90 minutes just to get to.
Arriving at long last, I docked (no competition for docking space!) and looked up my contact. His idea of “make it worth my while” was 1100Cr and not cutting my throat since “the boss says he’s got use for youse.” Not likely. I’m not coming back here, Guido.
I was able to grab a couple of cans of the Gin, and set out to plot my course to Sol and get the hell out of here.
You have GOT to be kidding me!
Well, turns out, there’s a PERMIT required, and you can’t get one of those if you’re not chummy with the Feds.
Part of me wants to say screw this and head out into the Black. But I didn’t come all this way just to give up. If I need to get the Feds on my side, I’ll do what I have to. It’ll take a while, but I’m going to do what I can! I don’t care about the Feds, but they’re a means to an end.
Lave. I think I’ll head towards Lave. I’ve heard a lot about it, it’s a reasonable distance away, and should offer many opportunities to make nice with the Feds.