I have lost track of recording my flights, in fact I think I barely started. I checked the other day, I am over a thousand hours of flight time, over a thousand! Yet how much have I logged here... About ten minutes. It isn't for lack of wanting to, I really do want to. However, when I am flying I am in the zone. Trying to record accurate logs and stories of my travels whilst also keeping on top of my actual situation, I am a Bounty Hunter by trade, is not exactly safe. Then when I am on long journeys between target systems I tend to catch up on other news in the galaxy. My time out of the ship gets completely overrun with my non flight duties, namely a mix of family, admin and this thing called sleep. Yes, I am a bounty hunter with a family, not normally something one would admit, yet I can with total confidence in their safety. No, I am not going to say why this is or it won't be the case anymore. Needless to say, I am now rambling. I am - I know I have said this before - I am going to make more effort to record things going forwards! I think I may also have to do some retrospectives, how I got to the position I am now...

It's been a while since I have been home. I have spent considerable time elsewhere in the galaxy, living a very different life and did not realise quite how much I was missing the base.

I docked my Imperial Clipper, one of the spoils of my labours, with the mechanical precision of a well designed autodock. In the past the very mention of people not docking ships manually had me in a rage, I could not understand how the skill and speed at which a capable pilot could land a ship could or even should be handled by a machine. In this day and age, with all our technology enabling one person to fly ships that previously would have required a large crew, I felt that the parts we can play helped define us as actual pilots instead of mere passengers. My long placement in the Imperial star systems changed that view somewhat. Imperial ships had more class, more elegance and a sense of a higher class to all others. To fly an Imperial Eagle far exceeded the feeling of a Core Systems Eagle, it was more powerful with better weapons, better shape and much cosier seat. The Imperial Courier looked as elegant as poured glass, with a cockpit reminiscent of a true fighter. Whereas pirates may swarm in Vipers and Vultures the Courier could glide by and destroy them with grace. Then there is the Imperial Clipper, the ship I arrived home in. This was the penultimate craft for an Imperial warrior of grace and royalty. Not only does it have sweeping and beautiful lines with glorious wings (changing it from a mere medium pad craft to a large pad), it is incredibly manoeuvrable which allows it to bring guns to bear on any foolish to challenge. These craft sang of opulence, most Imperials believe they are higher than the common rabble of the galaxy and even employ slavery as a means to maintain the position. I did not, working for Princess Duval as a moral choice following her renouncement of slavery, I was able to avoid such terrible things. However, when I earned the right to fly the Imperial Cutter I discovered it came with an advanced docking computer as well as a number of other luxuries that even the Clipper did not. I asked that the autodock be removed, yet this did not happen. I was persuaded to sit back and see what I thought once I had experienced it properly. I did. The ship took off so gently that the wine I was served by the autobutler barely shimmered. The ship slid through the docking port of the station and into the blackness of space to the beautiful music pouring through the speakers into the acoustically perfect, and gigantic, bridge. There was something so perfect about the moment that I had to admit, for this ship the autodock could stay.

I headed to the hangar, not quite sure what I had left behind as my travels had resulted in me making remote sales and transferring some of my things in order to pay for the Cutter. Upon entering the hanger I was greeting with sights that brought the memories flooding back; on one, gigantic, shelf lay the re-enforced armour panels from my Krait 2, a ship I loved and a victim of my financial requirements. The shelves had similar sights all over, not just armour panels either, there were modules, drives, weapons - all engineered to the best they could be (or the best I could afford) and standing as a museum of my adventures. Walking past the storage zone I entered the hanger proper. The vast, cavernous area could hold several massive ships, currently it held several small ships and a lot of space. It was unusual for someone to explore a hangar like this as normally the ships where packaged tightly, stored exactly as left. Modules and the other parts I had passed were also normally packed away, the shelving forming storage containers with parts being removed remotely. Today was different, upon returning to the station the administration had recognised me and offered a full stock check as a courtesy for my previous work done for them. I walked over to the Eagle, still painted in the flames that seemed a statement at the time. Next to it was my golden Sidewinder and finally there was the Dolphin. The Dolphin was something I had bought for my daughter as she wanted to start a tour company whilst she was still learning to fly. Having passed her Pilot's Federation licence she had since gotten involved in planet-side conservation work and asked me to look after it for her.

I walked over to the datapanel on the wall and brought up my full inventory list. It took me some time, and money, to start the transfers of my other ships and good to the station. EDDI, the ever-present AI that lives in my belt, will update me as to the arrival of each as they get here.

I have a bit of time now, so I am going to check the contract boards and get some bounty hunting done in my Clipper whilst I wait.

It felt as if the last time I flew was a distant memory, yet as soon as I took to the stars it felt as if I had never left. There had been a few runs to and from stations, the odd data delivery mission filled time. However, I was no longer really flying, not really. An auto launch, point the nose and jump. An auto dock, cash in the mission and repeat. Now, finally I was back in the cockpit proper. Selling off the automatic docking control then heading home after many months away I looked forward to reuniting with my comrades. And now here I am. We are flying in wings again, hunting pirates, ramming ships for fun and justice. A rallying call as we turn invaders away, so intent on our seemingly vacant system only to find we are ready. I missed this. I am determined not to moss it again, I have a new generation of pilots to train (well, one really), so I am even keeping a journal now. This one in fact!