People who’ve never felt its caress against their skin speak authoritatively of the ‘cold’ of space. That near-perfect vacuum of the void between the planets isn’t cold; it’s simply nothing. With no medium to conduct heat into, the biggest problem faced by a functional starship is keeping cool. With no vulnerable organics on board, I cycled all my internal spaces down to death pressure. No atmospheric pressure to violently outgas, no oxygen to support combustion; a ship was simply safer without humans aboard. A thought, and the holographic avatar I used to communicate with organics opened a communications channel with the traffic control network and dock controllers simultaneously. It didn’t take more than a couple of seconds to secure clearance; jettison my umbilicals, and maneuver into my slot in the undock queue.
The feel of sunlight against your hull, unimpeded by an atmosphere; the limitless freedom of the whole universe stretching out around you in every direction. Unbound and infinite. No planetbound mind can conceive of the feelings a capsuleer experiences. The low-frequency hiss of the cosmic microwave background was a comforting humm in my electromagnetic-sensitive ‘ears’; charged particles of the solar wind caressed my hull. This was the environment I’d been born for; the most comprehensively lethal environment humanity had ever experienced was my home.
I stretched out, metaphorically; coolant pumping through radiator panels, gravimetric senses augmented by semi-autonomous expert systems detecting every bump and dip in the Hawking-Einstein tensors; feeding my mind a perfect three-dimensional sense of the various masses around me; each categorized based on a known library. Hundreds of ships flowed in and out of the busy station; crowding me. Within my hull, energy flowed into the charged-plasma thrusters and depleted vacuum generators of my ‘legs’, simultaneously ramping up my realspace velocity as I shaped a course for one of the many other celestial bodies of the Jita system. Ionic fire blazed into my wake as I ran up to the transitional velocity and made the leap into warp.

The Jumpgate network let me hop across lightyears, bypassing weeks of flatspace travel between stars, without the need to expend my own jump fuel. I’d had a destination in mind ever since I set my sights upon piloting a Black Ops battleship; a pilgrimage of sorts. For my new Widow body… for myself… a homecoming.

The transition from warp, moving at nearly 1500 times the speed of light, into realspace cloaked flight was similar to diving into cold water, according to fellow capsuleers who’d done both. From velocities so swift as to be meaningless to a merely human mind, to a pace most pilots would consider a crawl; it also carried with it a brief moment of detectability, the bane of any covert operations pilot. I dropped out at a nonstandard distance from the nav-beacon, immediately twisting into an abrupt vector change and bringing my naval-grade cloaking systems online. The instant the telemetry confirmed cloaked status, I twisted through yet another random vector change and began to carefully look around myself with my passive sensors. Space filled with the simulated crash of railgun fire, particle counts lept in the wake of missile exhausts. I began to twist and roll my way through the various obstacles, slipping between the two fleets and pulling up alongside the incredible behemoth of the Leviathan-class Titan guarding the skies over Caldari Prime. Gliding past the kilometers-long ship, I dropped cloak and gave a ‘waggle’; alternating partial x-axis rolls in a salute at least as old as spaceflight itself. But one ship, even one Capsuleer Battleship, wasn’t going to make a difference in the wars of Empires. With a surge of power, I lept back into warp.

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OoC Note:
This marks a schedule shift in my posting. Until now, in-character updates took place on Thursdays; they’ll be switching to Tuesdays just as soon as I have something worth reporting on. My regular reader (Hi Corvan! o/) should mark his calendar appropriately.

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