Location: En route to Colonia, approximately 3,000 LY from Shoulder of Orion Vessel: Abyss Scout (Sidewinder Mk I)

Funny thing about the Shoulder of Orion. I helped build the supply chain out here. Ran commodities, coordinated drops from the Cradle. That was... what, a year ago? Less? Feels longer.

Now I'm back in a Sidewinder. Stock frame. Four tons of fuel capacity if you count the extra tank I crammed where the cargo rack used to be. Twenty-one lightyears per jump. No weapons. No room for error, really.

The Abyss Scout. I've refitted her twice now. First time I had the docking computer, the supercruise assist, the little luxuries you keep when you think the hard part is behind you. Stripped all that out. She's leaner now. Meaner feels like the wrong word. She's not mean. She's just... honest about what she is.

Four weeks to Colonia in this thing, back when I still had the stock FSD. Longest I'd ever been alone. Thought that would be the hard part.

It wasn't.

The Princess of Ruin is riding on one of the expedition carriers. Official DW3 logistics fleet. She'll be waiting at Colonia. Riding in the belly of the Distant Suns while I take the long way in something held together by fuel scoop prayers and stubbornness.

There's a metaphor in there somewhere. I'm too tired to find it.

DW3 departed yesterday. Thousands of pilots. Biggest expedition since... well, since DW2, I suppose. Missed that one. Missed the first one too. Life happens. Or in my case, life un-happens, and then you have to figure out what to do with the space left behind.

I keep getting asked why I signed up. The real answer is: I don't know. The expeditions are landmarks. You hear about them years later. I was there, I made the journey. Seemed like something I should do. Might be the last one of this scale. Might not. Hard to predict these things.

But that's the practical answer. The honest answer is probably something else.

Five months ago I had a fleet carrier, a squadron of ships, a name in the registry that meant something. Now the Cradle of the Abyss is out there somewhere with a crew who decided they'd rather have her than have me. And the Pilots Federation database says I'm someone else. Clean record. No history. Like I never existed.

You'd think I'd want revenge. Or justice. Or at least answers.

Mostly I just want to see what's past the next star.

The Outlander challenge means no carrier support until Colonia. Just me, the Scout, and about twenty thousand lightyears of nothing. Then I pick up the Princess, and wherever the expedition goes from there... I'll be with them. I packed light. Scanner. SRV. Fuel scoop. The essentials. Everything else is weight, and weight is jumps, and jumps are time, and time is...

Time is what I have now. That's the thing about losing everything. Your schedule opens right up.

They wait for nobody out here. Week to reach Colonia or I miss the window. No second chances. No rescue. Just the black and whatever I can make of it. Should probably stop writing and start jumping.

End Log.