Paris–Dakar Rally

Occasionally, the crew like to unwind by holding the modern-day space equivalent of the infamous Paris–Dakar Rally which began in late 20th Century Earth.

How it works is this:

• 1 A rocky world is selected from within the current system

• 2 A survey team is sent to find a suitable mid-size crater with the following criteria: (a) a radius of around 100km (b) it must have a mountain at its centre in the shape of a frozen milk drop (don't ask me why but this feature turns out to be quite common)

• 3 On arrival at the crater, the ship is positioned at its edge along its circumference and a member of the crew is chosen at random to drive an SRV as close to the central mountain as it can get.

The whole thing of course, is really an impractical and risky activity, especially to those ships that only have capacity for one SRV, but I'd rather risk losing an admittedly expensive piece of hardware than face a mutinous crew.

In the case of the Ploea Brou IO-Z d13-183 8c moon, after three rounds of drawing lots, Crewman Bennet was selected to drive. One of the most common mistakes for an inexperienced participant is to assume that the race will not last long as the race's end goal always appears closer than it actually is. Experienced "rallyers" know not to be fooled. To get there requires skill and endurance. After his selection, Bennet's face, apart from a wry smile, remained impassive, revealing nothing.

The rest of the crew then spend the rest of their time prior to race start deciding the various criteria for success such as race duration, acceptable top speeds and jump heights. Then there's the whole batch of secondary metrics such as how many refuels and repairs were required and the number of harvestable outcrops and the like discovered whilst driving. Once decided, the information is arranged and displayed in a large, easy-to-read matrix.

It's true that each crater presents its own unique challenges but it's also true that there are a lot of common characteristics between them. The most dangerous of these are the "BADLANDS" in which the terrain can suddenly change from a relatively smooth surface to something harsh, rough and unforgiving (some of the crew with ancestry heralding from the long-gone American Mid-West have likened this to the taming of the now-extinct wild stallion).

Car and driver safety is taken even more seriously when in the presence of extremely low gravity. This particular moon, being quite small and not particularly rich in the heavier metals, had a gravity of 0.21G. It was vital that extra care was taken any time the SRV was in "flight" - nobody wants to go after a low-orbit survey vehicle.

We watched as Bennet, clothed with an unusual chain-mail tunic under his environmental suit, started down the crater's side towards its centre. Our macro-binoculars and the SRV's on-board cameras showed that, after a cautious start whilst familiarising himself with the vehicle's controls, he was gaining confidence, his driving becoming more ambitious and, some would say, verging on the aggressive. Constant reminders of his inexperience were witnessed as the SRV swerved in both directions often ending up skidding to a halt with it facing backwards towards us. The SRVs of the past have come in for a lot of criticism for their delicate handling, but these updated Scarabs are much hardier creatures if "fed" correctly and can easily withstand this type of punishment.

Although clearly a relative newcomer and greenhorn to this particular "sport", Bennet was doing surprisingly well. After having driven for an hour or so, he managed to end up at coordinates: 3.6257, -121.5877 before having to concede and call in the ship for pick-up. The sudden appearance of this crater's version of the BADLANDS had caught him by surprise and he risked considerable damage both to himself and his vehicle had he chosen to continue. It would have been nice to have been able to leave a little marker or flag of his achievement at the departure point, but we will have to be bound by the honour system and report the above location information.

His maximum speed (whilst going down part of the more steeper terrain) was 53km/h and soon after, propelled by the momentum of that velocity, the SRV reached a respectable maximum height of 153m (as confirmed by on-board GPS and the heavily modified tracking systems intended for navigational computation). I had placed a bet on the latter result and won some extra food rations for a week which I shared with him after he had a chance to let off some steam with his own celebrations.

This part of the voyage reminded me a great deal of other great driving adventures of the past in distant, far-off systems taken with my space nemesis, ultimate explorer and very good friend, CMDR CHREDEN. More about him later.

Scutum Centaurus Arm

We have reached a suitable system at last (Ploea Brou IO-Z d13-183) in which to begin our journey along the spine of the Scutum Centaurus Arm. It appears to be fairly standard considering its significance to us, extending no further than 3500ls with a central class G star, a number of planets and four ring systems, one of them being a class Y dwarf (Ploea Brou IO-Z d13-183 8). We're going to take a closer look at the latter using our planetary scanners. It's possible that some of its moons will yield some useful elements.

Ring Tone

Of all the celestial bodies, my favourites are landable planets with ring systems. In our journey across the galaxy, the crew and I have been fortunate enough to encounter several of these ringed worlds. Each has possessed an enigmatic quality and like Jason being called by the sirens some 4000 years before, we cannot help but be drawn in to investigate.

Sitting alone in the ship's main cockpit whilst idling close to the inner edge of the planetary rings of Syriviae AY-Q b18-6, I am in awe of the vista before me. To my left, through the tempered glass, I attempt to begin counting the millions of subtly spinning, in what can best be described as, "distorted jacket potatoes", each one a clone collectively spanning into an infinite horizon. Those nearby reveal their axes of rotation as glistening facets which suddenly spring into being, their sole purpose to reflect whatever light they can and then, with their job done, vanishing as if they'd never existed. It's not often a human being gets such a personal close-up, let alone the opportunity, to ruminate on the delicate beauty that comprise these ornate, yet, when seen from afar, deceptively simple rings.

In contrast, as I glance to my right, I see a barren rocky world, pitted with craters and bluish green streaks, its surface partially hidden by the eclipse of Syriviae AY-Q b18. I head back to my cabin, slightly disconcerted, wondering what mysteries this dead world might guard.

Cosmic Joker

God may not play dice, but he does have a sense of humour.

No sooner do I complain about not finding any Earth-like planets, when I and the crew arrive in the Blau Chroa MG-Y d36 system.

Say hello to Blau Chroa MG-Y d36 A 2 and Blau Chroa MG-Y d36 A 3, a rare twin-arrangement of two beautiful Earth-like planets separated by just 558ls. One of them even has a moon similar to our own Earth's.

Kismet.

I'm uncertain as to whether I should complain more or less often now.

Damned Imposters

Just when I think I've managed to discover one of those rare celestial jewels, an Earth-like planet, I'm presented with yet another terraformable water-world. I'm sure I can see small island masses under the ringlet clouds of Blau Chroa SF-N c20-33.

Damn the crude classification algorithms of these "advanced" system scanners.

There are Four Lights

As part of our element-collection initiative, which we are affectionately referring to as "Operation SweetTooth", we have made a temporary pit-stop in a mid-size crater on planetoid ABCD 1 in the Syriviae FG-Y d59 system, a beautiful high metal content world overlooked by the burning majesty of four nearby suns. If we're lucky we'll manage to increase our dwindling stocks of Polonium (the ship's containment system is still holding strong and there's been no sign of radiation sickness in any of the crew). We've already found some Niobium and Vanadium in addition to some of the more common elements, so our hopes remain high. Scanning signals are high both in frequency and variation and keeping our survey vehicle extremely busy (note to self: have SRV undergo more maintenance checks; remember the integrity of those things is extremely fragile).

On a completely different note, it's so beautiful here. In front of me, the black backdrop of the universe is being rudely cut by the crater's distant mountains, themselves bathed and illuminated by the harsh radiation of the quadro-star system above us. With the recent introduction of holo-presence technology, I find myself daydreaming of the possibility, maybe in a different life, as to whether the "virtual touring" business could be a money spinner for me - a bit safer than the Rekall "Ego-trip" technology so popular in the 21st century with its risk of permanent psychosis and potential lobotomy and maybe a lot safer than traipsing across the galaxy.

The Way Back

This is our fifteenth week in space since leaving the safe haven of the Colonia system. We've been lucky enough to have safely made it to an undisclosed location beyond Beagle Point and are now returning from our deep-space mission. Our data banks are crammed with telemetric information that will keep the boys over in Stellar Cartography occupied for years as they scrub and process (and should provide us with a substantial bonus if we can avoid those acoustical distress beacons).

Astro-navigation has also improved in efficiency and ease as we head back towards the galactic centre due to the inevitable increase in system density. It's of considerable comfort to us all that we are beginning to see an increasing number of neighbouring stars in our (permanent) night sky as we move from system to system. In stark contrast, the uniform blue-black whilst travelling through the Abyss was beginning to have a detrimental effect on all of the crew, perhaps the constant reminder of the infinitesimal or maybe something more primordial.

The mission objective has been updated. We will no longer be travelling via Sagittarius A (we have been there already after all) on our route back. We have plans to use the Scutum Centaurus Arm as a slow slingshot and guide back to our home systems. As ever, we are on the lookout for any primary neutron stars within reasonable distance to help give our journey a boost. So far, certainly in this phase of our return, none have been encountered. As a mitigating strategy, planets and moons are being scanned for opportunities to stockpile our ship with the necessary transition metals for boost-assisted Frame-Shift.

Mission Regrets

On reflection, I wish I had invested further time and effort in enhancing the FSD jump range of my Asp Explorer with engineer Farseer prior to mission launch. A jump range of just over 34ly seems so paltry when facing interstellar distances of tens of thousands of light years. I don't know how or why she and the other engineers are privy to the technological black box secrets of Lakon, Gutayama et al. but we are where we are.

I still have (some might say in vain) hopes that, at some point in the future, our exo-suits will be adapted to give skilled pilots with an engineering bent, the capability to perform deep-space EVA (Ah, the dream of in-situ ship maintenance and upgrade whilst in the inky unknown). Someone must have realised the eminent practicality and profitability in being able to carry out "special modifications" directly on one's own ship without the need for any of the specialist drydock areas that most of the larger space stations so lazily provide. Having the option to reduce its mass yourself with the removal of shielding or hull plating or even discarding weaponised hard-points might provide that extra jump range deep-space explorers so desperately covet. It would certainly provide some form of edification as we watch our once prized hardware slowly tumble away, now set on their own galactic journey.

I don't think I'd make too bad an engineer, but maybe I should stick to just being a pilot.

Matters of Concern

As the human species continues to cut huge swathes of interstellar space, both mechanical and biological wear and tear are inevitable. For the voyage so far, my main concerns lie with the former even though we have experienced the occasional eruption of what I can only clumsily term as "space madness". Its cause remains, as yet, undetermined.

There are less serious consequences of this degradation too of course. I'm disappointed (yet not surprised) at the gradual disappearance of the once lustrous gold paint from the ship's hull - something I had specially applied whilst dry-docked at Colonia's Jaques station (yes, purely cosmetic I know but that crazy French cyborg-station will get an angry visit from me after his persuasive assurances of undeniable quality).

On a slightly more serious note, I have, by some miracle (and some judicious flying), managed to keep the hull strength of my explorer at 95%, in addition to the ship's modules running at a nominal 100% thanks to the dual-fitted field maintenance units. Its internal integrity however, remains a worrying mystery.

As for myself, my only concern is failing eyesight. Being allergic to the Retinox derivative of the 34th century (a wonder drug, first synthesised and used by humans some 11 centuries ago) has presented me with some practical and alarmingly immediate problems. A recent example occurred when putting my space helmet on. I didn't realise I'd be risking ocular extraction by antique spectacles. The only time I don't wear those things are for official documents (like the license picture above). I have considered replacing my aging organics with the latest cybernetic offering from OptiKon (Lakon's Human Augmentation Division) - an expensive option I know, but with some funding from the local cartographic department when I return coupled with a few profitable trade runs and a bit of luck, I might be able to afford the investment.